#they also said something along the lines of

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ shades of cool ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? and a part three, ultraviolence.

˚ ༘♡ you stirred, the weight of consciousness creeping back in like a slow, unwelcome sensation. the first thing you noticed was the pain, not sharp, but dull and ever-present, pulsing from your leg in as a painful remnant of what had happened. your eyes fluttered open, and the room before you swam into view, blurred and unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ soft, warm light illuminated the bedroom, the golden glow radiating off polished wood and gilded accents. the room was lavish beyond imagination. silk curtains hung in folds along the high windows, their rich, deep hue a stark contrast to the sterile white sheets covering you. the bed beneath you was impossibly soft, its headboard ornate and meticulously carved.

˚ ༘♡ it didn’t feel real.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze dropped to your leg, your breath hitching at the sight of thick, pristine bandages wrapped around your injured knee. the ache was dulled, numbed, and for a minute you thought it was a dream, until the frigid tug of an iv in your arm brought you fully into reality. clear tubing snaked its way from the crook of your elbow to a stand beside the bed, the consistent drip of fluid into your veins the only sound in the unnerving quiet.

˚ ༘♡ panic set in as you scanned the room for answers. sleek medical monitors blinked softly in the corner, their digital hum an eerie companion to the slow rhythm of your heartbeat displayed on the screen. the pure cleanliness of it all, no blood, no chaos, no grimy stairwells, was jarring.

˚ ༘♡ the door creaked open.

˚ ༘♡ your body tensed instantly, your hands gripping the sheets as you turned toward the sound. standing in the doorway was young-il, but something about him was different. he was dressed head to toe in onyx-black now, the sharp lines of his attire immaculate, his presence nearly unrecognizable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in your throat as a sensation of horror surged through your body. you struggled to push yourself up, wincing as the motion sent a jolt of pain through your leg. “you bastard,” you spat, your voice hoarse and trembling with both fury and anguish. “what the hell is this? what did you do?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression was undisturbed, his face composed, as though he hadn’t betrayed you, shot you, and left you to bleed out. his voice was soft when he spoke, almost gentle. “you’re safe now.”

˚ ༘♡ safe? the word felt like an insult, a mockery of everything he had done. “safe?” you snapped, your voice rising despite the weakness in your body. “you shot me! you killed them! where are jung-bae and gi-hun? what happened to them?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated, the pause heavy with unspoken truths. “their fate… isn’t yours to worry about,” he said at last, his tone measured, deliberately vague. the non-answer only stoked the fire of your anger, your hands clenching into fists.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t give me that nonsense,” you grimaced. “tell me what happened to them!”

˚ ༘♡ his gaze softened, as if he pitied you. it made your stomach twist. “you’ll have your answers in time,” he said evenly. “but for now, there’s something more important you need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ your chest heaved with ragged breaths as you glared at him, the venom in your gaze meeting his unnervingly tranquil demeanor. “and what’s that?”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the floor, enveloping you in its reach. “my name isn’t young-il,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undertone that made your pallid skin crawl. “it’s hwang in-ho. i am the front man, the overseer of these games.”

˚ ༘♡ his words hit you as though it was a physical blow, the weight of their meaning sinking in too slowly, too horribly. your jaw slackened as confusion, revulsion, and fear collided within you. you shook your head, as if denying the truth could erase it.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “no, that can’t be…”

˚ ༘♡ “it is,” he interrupted, his tone kind, almost soothing, as though he were breaking news to a child. “i know it’s a lot to process, but it’s the truth. everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve seen, it all leads back to me.”

˚ ༘♡ his serenity, his gentleness, only made it worse. you stared at him, horrified, unable to reconcile the man before you with the one who had saved your life, who had stood by your side, who you thought you could trust. your heart pounded in your chest, a desperate beating of denial as his revelation sent cracks through your already fragile world.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your mind frantically trying to stitch together some coherent explanation for what he was saying. every word felt like a jagged shard, cutting into what little remained of your trust. the man you thought you knew had unraveled into someone monstrous, someone you couldn’t even begin to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “you want answers,” he said quietly, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. his hands rested at his sides, his posture unnervingly relaxed. “then let me give them to you.”

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t reply, your throat too tight to push out words. the tremor in your hands betrayed the dread coursing through you, though you tried to mask it with a glare that had lost its edge.

˚ ༘♡ he let out a desolate breath, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to yours. “a long time ago, i was no different from you or any other contestant for these games. i was desperate, clinging to whatever hope i could find. my wife…” his voice caught, for a split second, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. “she was pregnant, but she was sick. we didn’t have the money for the treatments she needed. i tried everything, loans, work, begging. nothing was enough.”

˚ ༘♡ you felt a pang of unease, the words pulling at a part of you that didn’t want to empathize, didn’t want to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “when i heard about the games, i saw no other choice,” he continued. “i thought… if i could win, i could save her. i convinced myself it was worth it. the blood, the horror, it would all be justified if it meant saving her.” his eyes grew distant, as though he were watching memories play out before him, each one dragging him deeper into a place he didn’t want to go.

˚ ༘♡ “and you won,” you said bitterly, though your voice lacked strength. the image of him standing victorious in those games twisted your stomach, making you sick. “so why are you here? why are you doing this to other people?”

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening. “i won,” he admitted, his tone heavy with something you couldn’t name. “despite my efforts, my win and the prize money came too late. she died, and so did the baby… our baby. nothing i had done mattered, not the lives i’d taken, not the suffering i endured. it was all for nothing.”

˚ ༘♡ the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, but it was the coldness in his eyes that terrified you. it was as though the memory of that loss had hollowed him out, leaving behind only shards of the man he once was.

˚ ༘♡ “after she died,” he said, “i had nothing. no one. those behind the games saw that. they saw what i had become, angry, empty, ready to do whatever it took to escape the emptiness. they offered me purpose, a chance to rebuild myself in their ideology. and i took it.”

˚ ༘♡ his admission hung in the air, suffocating and heavy. you wanted to scream at him, to ask how he could justify becoming the very thing that destroyed him, but the words wouldn’t leave your lips.

˚ ༘♡ “and you…” his voice mellowed, and for the first time, his mask of stability cracked only slightly. “you remind me of her. not simply for how you look, but… the way you care. the way you fight, even when everything is against you. there’s a tender beauty in you that i haven’t seen in any soul for years.”

˚ ༘♡ his words sent a chill down your spine. notion idea that he saw any part of his late wife in you was unbearable. you stared at him, horrified, searching his face for any sign of deception, but all you saw was the unsettling truth of his sincerity.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you whispered, your voice quivering with rage. “don’t you dare compare me to your dead wife. don’t you dare use her memory to excuse what you’ve done.”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t flinch, though something appeared in his expression, regret, perhaps, or something deeper. “i’m not excusing it,” he said quietly. “i know what i’ve become. but it doesn’t change what i see.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words pressed down on you. the man standing before you wasn’t just a stranger, he was a nightmare, a ghost of the person he once was, and you couldn’t decide which was worse.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t reconcile the man before you with the one who had pulled you out of the fire so many times before. the one who had shielded you, consoled you when you were hurt, and risked his life to save yours. even as he revealed the truth, this sinister, unfathomable truth, a part of you couldn’t forget the way his hands had steadied you in instances of chaos or the way he had spoken to you with warmth when everything else had been so cold.

˚ ༘♡ yet that part of you, small as it was, waged a bitter war with your anger and disgust. you couldn’t ignore what he’d done, what he was. you had seen him kill without hesitation, betray without remorse. yet somehow, despite everything, the memory of his quiet acts of care gnawed at your resolve, complicating the clarity of your rage.

˚ ༘♡ “why?” you demanded, your voice cracking under the weight of everything. “why did you save me if you were just going to do this? why did you act like you cared?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened, and for a second, the cold, calculating overseer seemed to fade. in his place was the man who had once held your hand, who had spoken with a gentleness that felt so real you couldn’t dismiss it entirely. “because i do care,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “more than you know.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “you don’t get to say that,” you whispered, your voice quivering with misery and despair. “not after everything you’ve done. you don’t get to care.”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, the weight of his presence filling the space between you. you wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, frozen in place. “i know what i am,” he said softly, his tone stable yet tinged with something raw. “i know what i’ve done. but that doesn’t make what i feel for you any less real.”

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you murmured, though the word came out weak, your anger faltering under the intensity of his dark gaze. “don’t try to make this about me. you’re just trying to justify…”

˚ ༘♡ “i’m not,” he interrupted, his voice firm but quiet. “i’m not trying to justify anything. i… i couldn’t lose you.”

˚ ༘♡ the confession hung in the air, heavy and morose. you wanted to lash out, to shout at him, to tell him that his words didn’t change anything. but instead, you found yourself searching his face, looking for the lie, the manipulation. and you didn’t find it.

˚ ༘♡ you hated him, but you couldn’t deny that you had trusted him, even cared for him, before the truth came crashing down. those memories, tainted by what you knew now, lingered like ghosts, haunting you in ways you couldn’t escape.

˚ ༘♡ “you don’t get to feel that way about me,” you said, though your voice wavered, lacking the conviction you wanted it to carry.

˚ ༘♡ “i know,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering, his closeness almost unbearable. “but i do.”

˚ ༘♡ before you could think, before you could stop it, he leaned in. the world seemed to still as his face drew closer, his presence overwhelming. you hated him, you loathed him, but the confusion, the anger, the lingering warmth of the man you thought you knew muddled everything.

˚ ༘♡ when his lips met yours, it wasn’t soft or careful. it was desperate, a confession in itself, and against your better judgment, against every screaming thought in your head, you didn’t pull away. instead, you let the infatuation consume you, the bitterness, the anger, the ache of betrayal melding together into something raw and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ when it broke, you were left shaking, your breaths uneven as you stared at him, your heart pounding with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name. you hated him, but lord, you hated how much you wanted to understand him even more.

a/n: you all asked for another part so i had to write part four!! i had a cosmetic procedure that requires me to stay home for a few days so if you have any requests, this is the time!! i hope you all loved reading!! 🤍

[autumngracy]

When I was little (around 3 or 4 years old) I thought the super bowl was the "souper" bowl, and that people would gather in a stadium, spoons and bowls at the ready, and when the signal was given descend to the bottom to fill their bowls from a comically massive bowl of soup, then return to their seat to eat it amongst thousands of other soup lovers. I was disappointed when I learned it was just another football game.

I also thought, when my dad said he worked in a "plant" that, like ... well, y'see, we had this rubber tree, which obviously is a type of plant, but also rubber is a good used in manufacturing, which we get from the plant itself, but it has to be processed, so my concept of a "brass plant" was something along the lines of a massive plant (the kind with a stem and leaves) that people went to work in to produce brass (no I did not picture the plant being made of brass. I pictured it like our rubber tree; a green, living plant).

In my head I pictured a little line of worker ants climbing up the stem to get to their respective offices and work areas, wearing little hard hats and carrying lunch boxes. (I mean. They're WORKER ants.)

i hate it when customers get mad about policy and go “well i’ve always thought it worked differently” like ok. when i was a kid i thought the drains in sinks and bathtubs lead to Hell and i would pour things down them for the dead people. it turns out that you can think things that aren’t true

[heavenbarnes]

older bf!simon is always the one in control so sometimes i need to write him pathetic! (afab!reader described as wearing a dress and heels)

there’s an alternative universe out there where you make older bf!simon work for it

“i’m sorry i didn’t come back w’you that night”

he was embarrassed, his cheeks were pink and he was missing the balaclava that usually hid all changes in expression

but he’d managed to turn up on your doorstep to ply you with apologies and he looked so sweet dwarfing your lounge suite

“it’s alright, simon - i don’t mind the wait”

“it’s not that i didn’t want ye��, promise, i just-”

he cut himself off, let the words hang like ripe fruit that you didn’t even have to pick to know how sweet they taste

instead, you bridged the small gap across the couch and let your hand fall on his shoulder

“it’s okay, i know it can be a bit overwhelming”

he sighed a shaky wee exhale like it felt really nice to be understood, if not totally terrifying all the same

“ye’ don’t know how bad i wanted to, ye’ looked so bloody good”

you snorted a little breath through your nose, running your fingernails along the top of his shoulder

“i know”

he let the silence take over the room, you knew good and well there was something he wanted so badly to say

and you’d wait a lifetime just to hear him beg

“can ye’ please tell me”

it was so quiet, you could’ve missed it

but you didn’t

“tell you what?”

wait a lifetime

“tell me what’d you’d have done if we’d gone back there”

your lips curled in a smile, something wicked and heady

something that said you’d struck gold

ease him in

slow and steady

“i’d sit you back in the chair, put you right where i wanted you”

even through his shirt, you could feel his skin prickle as you ran your nails towards his chest

“i’d take off those heels, the ones you’d been staring at all night”

as much as you’d expected him to go rigid, you could feel him melting beside you

“i’d reach for the back of my dress, undo it so it just slips off my shoulders and let it pool on the floor around my ankles”

“run my hands up my chest, over my perfect tits, the ones you’d also been staring at”

simon’s breath caught him in his chest, your fingers running over his pec where you lightly traced the smallest lines

“pinch my nipples, show you how hard they were, how hard they’d been since i first saw you”

his eyes screwed closed, a deep breath expanding his in chest under your touch

“really, since i first knew you’d be there that night”

“then i’d turn around, put my back to you, and slip my fingers under the band of my little panties”

simon fought to pry his eyes open, darting straight to your fingers

he knew a look in your eyes was a death wish

“they’re so little, simon, honestly i could’ve probably torn them with a fingernail”

and you might just kill him anway

“you definitely could’ve”

there it was

like he’d tried to keep it in, a broken moan slipped from his throat- between the lips he was worrying with his teeth

“but i’d slide them down my legs, bend over so you could see them fall, and i’d turn around so you could get a good look, see my perfect little cunt”

“soft, warm, tight, and wet”

simon had been half hard since you’d opened the door

now? he thought the rush of blood might knock him out

“wet since you first placed your hand on my back when you were being all polite”

it was like he could still feel where his hand had been, like he’d never had the chance to hold something so soft

“you’d be able to smell it on my panties, so i’d hand them to you”

simon was acutely aware of the way your hand was slowly drifting down the firm lines of his stomach

“tell you to keep those, you could sniff them, lay them on your face when you’re tugging that thick cock and thinking of me”

in his lap, you ran your fingers along his thigh until they wrapped around his cock

“maybe taste them a little, or even wrap them around your cock”

his hips shot up, straight into your hand as he tipped his head back onto the couch

a pathetic whine ripped straight from his chest

“cum all over them, ruin them and give them back to me when you inevitably see me again”

you slowly ran your fingers along the length of him

rock fucking solid

“and i could give you your next pair”

you slowed down, gently stroking him through his trousers as his breathing evened out

couldn’t have you stopping his poor heart

he was the first to break

“then what?”

that smile crept back onto your face, catching the sight of his strained expression

it’s the devil you know

“hmm, i think i’d sit in your lap”

his thighs tensed, involuntarily but bordering on inviting

“feel that hard cock that’s been straining in your briefs”

squeezing it again, through two layers you could feel the small patch of wetness spreading under your thumb

“you might be older than me but you’re not too old, are you?”

he could hear the teasing in your voice, running a large hand down his face

dirty old bastard

“rub my hot wet little cunt all over your trousers, make a mess all over them”

simon’s hips were rolling under your hand, pushing the length of his cock up into your palm

clipped breath and tight chest

you didn’t have to be a genius to know what comes next

“got to ease you into it, know it’s been a long time since you got yourself into something this tight, don’t want you blowing your top”

his breaths became vocal, the quietest little whimpers told you exactly where you had him

right on the precipice

his hand wrapped tight around your wrist as he all but humped your hand

you let go

“just yet”

[scoupsakakitty]

hello!! this is my first request lol, can we have fluff of svt 14th member when she gets her period?? something along those lines however you want to interpret it!!

Wingmen and Wings | idol!Seventeen x 14thMember!Reader | fluff, slight angst

It was just another exhausting practice day for Seventeen. The heavy beat of the music echoed through the walls of the practice room as the members moved in sync, their bodies drenched in sweat.

In the middle of the formation, Y/N, the 14th and only female member, struggled to keep up.

Her legs felt heavy, her stomach churned, and a dull ache throbbed in her lower back. She tried to push through it, focusing on the rhythm, but each step felt like her body was working against her.

“Y/N, what’s wrong with you today?” Seungkwan teased from across the room.

“Yeah, did you forget how to dance?” Vernon added, smirking.

“Maybe she’s just lazy,” Hoshi joked, always ready to poke fun.

Y/N froze mid-step, glaring at them.

“Maybe you guys should just shut up for once!” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended.

The room went silent.

“Whoa,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath. “What’s with the attitude?”

Y/N clenched her fists, heat rising to her face not just from embarrassment, but also frustration. She grabbed her water bottle and stomped to the corner of the room, leaving the boys stunned.

———————————————————————————-

During the break, Y/N sat with her back against the wall, scrolling through her phone and trying to ignore the ache in her stomach.

She didn’t notice when Joshua walked up to her, holding his jacket in his hands.

“Here,” he said softly, draping it around her waist.

Y/N looked up, confused.

“What are you doing?”

Joshua leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

“I think you started your period,” he whispered carefully, avoiding eye contact. “You should go check. Like—now.”

Her eyes widened in horror.

“What? No—are you serious?”

Joshua nodded, his voice kind but urgent.

“Just go. I’ll cover for you if anyone asks.”

Heart pounding, Y/N tied his jacket tighter around her waist and hurried out of the room as casually as she could.

———————————————————————————-

In the bathroom, Y/N confirmed her worst fear.

She had, in fact, started her period—and had nothing with her. No pads, no tampons, and no spare clothes.

Her stomach sank as panic bubbled up.

Her hands trembled as she grabbed her phone, dialing Joshua’s number.

“Josh?”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her voice came out in a whisper.

“I need help,” she said, mortified. “I don’t have any pads or tampons. Or clean clothes. I need you to—” She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I need you to get me some stuff.”

Joshua hesitated only for a second.

“Okay. What kind?”

“The ones with wings,” she said quickly, then groaned. “You know—pads. With wings.”

“Wings?” Joshua repeated, sounding confused. “Like… flying wings?”

“No! Just—ugh, never mind! Please hurry!”

“Got it,” he said. “I’ll figure it out.”

———————————————————————————-

Joshua rushed out of the practice room, but Mingyu and DK caught him at the door.

“Where are you going?” DK asked suspiciously.

“And why do you look like you just saw a ghost?” Mingyu added.

Joshua hesitated.

“Y/N needs something,” he said. “It’s… personal.”

DK and Mingyu exchanged concerned looks.

“What is it?” Mingyu pressed.

Joshua sighed.

“She started her period,” he said quietly. “And she doesn’t have anything—no pads, no clothes, nothing.”

“Oh.” DK blinked. “Ohhh.”

“We’re helping,” Mingyu said immediately. “Come on.”

———————————————————————————-

Joshua quickly met up with Mingyu and DK to head out and buy what Y/N needed.

“Alright, we need to grab pads, clothes, snacks… anything we can think of to help her,” Joshua instructed, his mind already racing.

“Pads. Got it,” Mingyu said, his eyes scanning the shelves. “Do we need a specific kind? Like, wings or no wings?”

Joshua hesitated for a moment. “Let’s just get the ones with wings. She’ll be more comfortable.”

DK nodded. “Got it. We’ll grab those. Maybe we should also buy the overnight ones or the ultra thin ones or what about the maxi pads? Fuck it let’s buy them all. What about clothes?” DK added, tossing all the pads into the shopping cart.

Joshua glanced at the tampons on the shelf. “What about tampons? What size should we buy?” The tree boys stared at the tampons, unsure what to do. “What do you mean by size? You mean the size of her.. you know?” DK asked, his face flushing slightly. “No are you dumb?” Mingyu laughed, shaking his head. “It’s for her period flow. Light, regular, or super. You know, the amount of flow she has.” Joshua nodded, relieved. “Yeah it’s all about the flow. We’ll go with regular for now.”

Mingyu grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. “These look like something she’d wear. Big and comfy.”

Joshua nodded. “Good choice. She’ll definitely appreciate this.”

Mingyu paused for a moment, then added, “Maybe we should add these too. Not to be weird, but I think she might need these as well.” He grabbed a pack of underwear and tossed it into the cart.

Joshua blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh, yeah, you’re probably right. She’ll need those.”

DK, who had been holding a pack of pads, looked at Mingyu, then back at Joshua, his face flushed. “Yeah, it’s for… the whole situation.”

————————————————————————————-

Back at the dorm, Jeonghan, Seungkwan, and Dino had begun preparing a cozy space for Y/N, knowing she would need a relaxing environment.

“We should set up a space for her to just relax,” Jeonghan said, laying out blankets and soft pillows across the couch.

“Agreed,” Seungkwan added, fluffing the pillows. “She’s going to need something comfy after all this. Maybe we should dim the lights and add some soft music?”

“Definitely,” Dino agreed. “The more peaceful, the better.”

As the group worked, Hoshi, Wonwoo, Woozi, and Vernon were in the kitchen, preparing a warm meal.

“Do you think she’ll want soup?” Hoshi asked, stirring a pot.

“She’s definitely going to need something light,” Woozi replied. “Something comforting.”

Vernon grabbed some chocolate. “And don’t forget dessert. She’s going to need chocolate, too.” Wonwoo nodded. „She loves chocolate ice cream lately.”

“Right!” Hoshi grinned. “Comfort food all the way.”

————————————————————————————-

Meanwhile, S.Coups, Jun, and The8 were on their own mission, heading to the pharmacy to buy painkillers and whatever else they could find to ease Y/N’s discomfort.

S.Coups grabbed a bottle of painkillers. “We’ve got to make sure she’s okay, so let’s grab some extra just in case.”

“I’ll grab some tea,” Jun suggested, reaching for a box of chamomile. “It’s relaxing. She’ll need it.”

The8, however, suddenly grabbed a bottle of iron supplements, holding them up to S.Coups and Jun. “We need this too,” he said earnestly.

S.Coups blinked in surprise. “Iron? Why?”

The8 looked serious. “I read somewhere that women lose a lot of iron during their period. It can help with fatigue, so we need to get it.”

Jun looked amused. “You’ve been doing your research, huh?”

The8 shrugged. “I want to make sure we cover all bases.”

S.Coups nodded approvingly. “Alright, let’s get it.”

———————————————————————————-

Joshua returned to the bathroom, knocking softly.

“Y/N? It’s me.”

She cracked the door open just enough to peek out.

“You got it?”

“Everything,” Joshua said, holding up multiple bags. “Clothes, pads—wings included—and snacks. Oh, and S.Coups brought painkillers.”

Y/N grabbed the bags, her cheeks red.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

Joshua grinned. “Don’t mention it. Just change and come out when you’re ready.”

———————————————————————————-

By the time they all made it back to the dorm, Y/N froze in shock.

The living room had been completely transformed.

Blankets and pillows covered the couch, the lights were dimmed, and a heating pad was already plugged in and waiting for her. A full meal was spread out on the table, along with chocolates, herbal tea, and drinks.

“What… is this?” Y/N asked, her voice breaking.

“We figured you’d need this,” Jeonghan said, smiling softly. “So—surprise?”

Her lip trembled as tears filled her eyes.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” she whispered.

“Of course we did,” Mingyu said. “You’re our family.”

Before they knew it, she pulled them all into a giant group hug, burying her face in Seungkwan’s shoulder as the others squeezed in around her.

———————————————————————————-

Later that night, they all piled onto the couch to watch a movie.

Y/N sat in the middle, wrapped in a blanket with the heating pad pressed against her stomach.

Halfway through the movie, she leaned against Joshua’s shoulder, her eyelids drooping.

“You’re the best,” she mumbled sleepily.

Joshua smiled, brushing her hair back gently. “I know.”

The rest of the boys exchanged proud smiles, looking down at Y/N as she fell asleep surrounded by her second family.

“Mission accomplished,” Woozi whispered.

And as they all settled in for the night, they knew they wouldn’t have it any other way.

———————————————————————————-

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: You can put your first meeting with Eita Otoya down to coincidence; the second, too, and maybe even the third. But as your paths keep crossing again and again, you’re forced to realize that it may not be such a coincidence after all — that maybe, despite your fervent wishes for it to be otherwise, he’s the one you’ve been hoping to find all along. A spin-off of Five Ways to Kill a Crow!

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 26.7k

Content Warnings: crack fic, reader is so dramatic for 0 reason, reader has a lot of insecurities, otoya is…otoya?? so a red flag but in a goofy way, mentions of reader’s bff dating karasu (she’s the y/n from fwtkac!!), i cannot stress enough that this is just NOT that serious, reader is in love with everyone BUT otoya, aiku mentioned (derogatorily by reader but affectionately by me), lots of swearing, dumbass situations, enemies to lovers except they have 0 reasons to be enemies, generally simplistic writing style because this is meant to be a silly piece, so much otoya slander like bro gets called every name in the book

A/N: hello everyone i’m finally back with new writing LMAOAO i’m sorry it’s not an official request or anything but a lot of people have mentioned wanting to see fwtkac y/n’s best friend and otoya getting together so here is something along those lines!! i didn’t really lock in for this one tbh so if the writing seems worse than usual that’s why but anyways here’s a little something to tide you guys over until i get back on my typical grind. also for anyone who is wondering — no you don’t actually have to read fwtkac to understand this (i don’t think) but there are references to it scattered throughout the story!! so if something seems weirdly unexplained it’s probably something like that

It was cold out, cold and more than a little rainy, but inside of the movie theater where you and your cousins were sitting, it was warm to the point of discomfort. You had long ago shrugged off your jacket and unzipped your sweater, but whoever was in charge of the temperature must’ve decided they wanted to simulate the boiling climate of the Sahara, because your cheeks were hot and your throat was scratchy from the dry air blowing in your face.

By itself, that was bad enough. But to make matters worse, sitting directly in front of you was a boy on a date, who was clearly enthused to prove to the world that that was what he was doing. His fingers were tangled in his companion’s hair as he tugged her face impossibly closer to his, and the soft sounds of their kissing only made you burn hotter with shame. All you could do was slink down in your seat and try to pretend like you were anywhere but in that theater, at that moment, sitting beside your twelve year old cousin who, by some miracle, hadn’t said something immature about the situation yet. You had already given up on seeing the movie; no matter which way you craned your neck, the screen was always partially obstructed by the couple in front of you, so you just sat there and hoped for it to be over as fast as possible.

As soon as the movie ended, you shot to your feet, leaving your cousins behind as you raced into the lobby, your simmering frustration boiling over as you caught sight of the boy, who had been ditched by his date and was standing by a vending machine, punching in the code for a soft drink.

“Hey,” you snapped, standing behind him with your arms crossed. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“What?” he said, turning around, his brow furrowed. The can of soda in his fist was weeping with condensation, droplets trickling down his long fingers onto his pale wrist, and for some reason, watching the slow seeping of water onto the sleeves of his sweatshirt was particularly enraging, exacerbating your already foul mood. Shouldering past him, you glared at the options in the machine, finding that the mixture of the salty popcorn and the parched air had left you thirsty but entirely unwilling to pay the exorbitant fees for literally every drink that was being offered.

“I sat behind you for the entire movie,” you said.

“Oh,” he said, obviously confused why you were bringing it up. Rolling your eyes, you decided on a bottle of water, typing in the code and presenting your card when prompted. 

“I couldn’t see the screen the entire time because of you, you fucking dimwit,” you said. “Seriously, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself for even a minute or two? Even plays have intermissions!”

“What are you talking about? Do you need help or something? I don’t have money, if that’s what you want,” he said, obviously lost. You narrowed your eyes, wondering if you had somehow gotten the wrong person before deciding that no, it was definitely him.

He was a distinct sort of person now that you looked at him more closely, even though he had seemed so nondescript at first. Most of his hair was a pale, silvery color, although it was streaked through with a green that fell in his pear-colored eyes, and his face had a delicate sort of handsomeness which might’ve made you swoon, were you the kind of person that was easily swayed by something so superficial. 

“I don’t need money. I’m talking about how you and that girlfriend of yours were so busy—”

“Y/N!” Before you could launch into a full-blown tirade, you were interrupted by your youngest cousin, who was only nine, throwing his arms around your waist in a hug. “We were looking for you everywhere!”

“Oh!” you said. You rarely ever saw your cousins, but you remembered holding the youngest when he was only a baby, so you always felt particularly gentle around him, even if he wasn’t really anything close to a baby anymore. “I’m sorry, I was just thirsty, so I came to get some water.”

Bending over to retrieve your bottle of water, you unscrewed the cap, tilting your head back and pouring it down your throat before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and putting the lid back on. Shooting one last glare at the boy, who was still standing there, you placed one hand on your cousin’s head, steering him towards the door, though when you were certain he wasn’t looking at you, you allowed your scowl to reappear.

The boy was lucky your cousins had shown up; you would’ve said something rude to him then and there, but as it was, all you did was mouth the word jackass over your shoulder before you rounded the corner and left him behind for good.

The next Monday, you found your attitude hadn’t improved any. You were still irritated by that stupid boy and his stupid girlfriend and that stupid movie that you had stupidly wanted to watch. Maybe it was a little ridiculous that you were holding a grudge even now, but you had a sense that it wouldn’t go away until you got to complain to your best friend, who was the only person you knew would support you no matter what.

You didn’t have any classes together in the morning, which meant you had to wait to rant to her until lunch — this was a good thing, because it meant you wouldn’t be interrupted, but it was also a bad thing, because it meant she would be with her new boyfriend.

By the time you sat down, she was already done eating, leaning against Karasu’s arm as she played on his phone, although she did smile at you in greeting when you slammed your tray filled with your disgusting, school-provided lunch across from her.

“I hate couples,” you announced as a preamble, wanting her to know what the topic of your whining would be about today.

“Hm,” she said.

“I’m serious!” you said.

“You’re just mad because you’re single,” she said. “I told you I’m working on it, didn’t I? It’s not my fault all of Tabito’s friends are losers!”

You sighed, because you realized how your words could’ve been misconstrued. It wasn’t that you were upset she was with Karasu — if anything, it was kind of a relief, given how much drama the two of them had caused you for years — but you could see how your words could be interpreted in that way.

“I know,” you said, both as a concession and because she was right; Karasu’s friends really were, by and large, losers. “Actually, you two aren’t the ones that prompted me to say that this time, oddly enough.”

“Oh, then who did?” she said, her attention obviously piqued now that it was clear you weren’t going to grumble about her.

“You know how I went to visit my cousins last weekend?” you said. She nodded. “Well, we went to watch a movie while we were there, that new one I was really excited about, but somehow it ended up that we got stuck behind this guy on a date!”

“How’d you know that he was on a date?” she said, already accustomed to your preferred method of story-telling.

“Because there was a girl sitting next to him, and he sucked her face off for the entire movie, thereby completely blocking the screen,” you said, shuddering at the mere memory. “Can you believe it? The worst part is, he was totally stupid looking!”

“That’s annoying. How’d you know he was dumb looking, though? Wasn’t the theater dark?” she said. If she weren’t currently pressed against her boyfriend, who was both athletic and petty enough to deck you if you tried something, you would’ve leaned across the table and kissed her for going along with you so perfectly.

“I confronted him afterwards,” you said.

“While he was on a date? That’s a bold move,” she said, clearly surprised. “What did the girl say?”

“Huh?” you said. “Oh, she had already left. Guess she wasn’t that into him.” You punctuated that with a snicker, because the thought of the boy getting some humility forced into him was admittedly quite nice.

“Yikes,” your best friend said, although she then pouted at her screen. “Aw, man, I died. At this rate, I’ll never beat the high score.”

Karasu asked her for his phone back, going into some story about a cooler, so you took advantage of her brief moment of distraction to shove half of your sandwich down your throat. It wasn’t a great sandwich by any means, but it was at least better than nothing, and even though it was heavy like glue in your mouth when you chewed it, you forced it down dutifully, not wanting to be hungry during the second half of the day.

“Okay, describe this guy,” she said when she was done with her conversation. “I’m really interested in what could have driven you to judge his appearance so harshly.”

“Listen!” you said, rejuvenated by the food in your stomach and her interest in your story. “His hair was green!”

“Green?” she repeated.

“Yes!” you said, entirely vindicated by her incredulity. “Well, mostly it was a grayish white, but there was a green streak, and the undercut part was also green.”

She snorted. “That’s wild. Who told him that was a good idea?”

“I just wonder how much bleach he has to use to get it to be that color,” you said, thinking back to the boy and his hair, which, despite its odd coloring, hadn’t seemed destroyed in the slightest. It bore the consideration that maybe it was natural, but you didn’t want to believe that it was.

“I know for a fact that he had the most damaged, dead, crunchy-looking hair ever,” she said. You shook your head sadly, because as much as you wished that that was the case, you knew it wasn’t.

“It was actually pretty shiny and luscious,” you admitted. “If it weren’t for the weird choice of color and his terrible theater etiquette, I could see why someone might consider him attractive.”

“Maybe you can fix him,” she suggested. You immediately pretended to gag, because saying something even remotely kind about the boy had taken so much out of you that the thought of having to actually be with him, let alone fix him, was like a punch to the gut.

“The main thing I’ve learned from your relationship with Karasu is that you can never fix a man’s hair, no matter how much he likes you,” you said, eyeing Karasu’s hair suspiciously, wondering how it was that your best friend still hadn’t managed to convince him to go without the wax.

“Huh? Did you say my name?” Karasu said, handing your best friend his phone back and blinking at you curiously. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you and your best friend said in unison. He was obviously weirded out, but to his immense credit, did not argue much more, obviously deciding it wasn’t a battle he wanted to have. That was the kind of boyfriend he was, which was ironic, given how he and your best friend were once constantly at each other’s throats.

“Anyways, that’s my rant for the day,” you said, because there wasn’t much else to add. Your cousins had pulled you away before you could really do anything that would make for a truly excellent story, and there was only so much you could do to make the entire thing sound interesting to an uninvolved third party.

“That really is awful,” she said. “Don’t worry. Someday soon, we’ll find you someone to date, and then you can be the annoying couple everyone slanders. Trust me on that one.”

“I do,” you said, and it was the truth. “I have faith that you’re just being picky because you love me so much that you refuse to let me be with a substandard man.”

“Exactly,” she said, and it was both a good and bad thing that that was the case: good, because you knew she would never let you end up with someone shitty, but bad, because the prospects at your school were less than slim: they were nonexistent.

“You’re the best,” you said anyways, making a heart with your hands, because after all, it wasn’t her fault, and she really was doing what she could. 

“I try!” she said, and then you moved on to lighter subjects, such as the upcoming exam that you all had to take for Modern Literature — Karasu’s teammates were betting that he’d get the higher score on it, but as the loyal type, you had no choice but to bet on your best friend, although you really would’ve done so regardless. You couldn’t remember a single test in all of the years that you had known the two of them where Karasu had beaten her, at least not in Modern Literature.

Most of autumn and the beginning of winter crept along in the same way that the rest of the year had. It was monotony, really, although you didn’t mind it terribly most of the time. It would get to you on rare occasions, and only ever late at night, when you would lie in your bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder when it would be your turn for something exciting to happen.

Your prayers were answered, as they often were, in the form of your best friend. She had been invited to some big soccer game in Tokyo by both Karasu and his teammate, Hiori, which meant she had a spare ticket. She had yammered on the phone about the details, something about a key match and the stakes for the team, but you didn’t need any convincing.

“Obviously, I’ll come,” you said.

“You will?” she said.

“I’ve been wanting to go to the city for a while, anyways,” you said. “It’ll be fun!”

Plus, you thought to yourself, though you did not dare vocalize it, this could be my chance. She would never understand it, what it meant for you, why you were so invested, but the truth was that for you, this was the opportunity you had been waiting for. The opportunity to escape the dullness of your life. The opportunity to find something like what your best friend had with Karasu — someone, actually, and in particular someone who loved you simply because of who you were. You didn’t want any part of that bullshit that the boys in your high school liked to talk about, those strange confessions that felt more like the kinds of appraisals one would give to livestock than anything; you wanted to find something that was more characteristic of a romantic comedy than real life. Something that made your heart race and your stomach drop. Something like that.

The day of the game was the coldest all year, and you wrapped your blue scarf tighter around your neck as you sat in the bleachers next to your best friend and a girl with flowing red hair who introduced herself as Koyuki Chigiri. Rubbing your hands together for warmth, you engaged in idle conversation with the two of them while you waited for the match to begin, hoping that it would go by quickly so that you could return to the warmth of your car.

“I’m number 6’s girlfriend,” your best friend said in response to Koyuki’s question about who on the field she knew. There was a special fondness to the way she said the word girlfriend, and pride in the way she said his name: “Tabito Karasu.”

“I see him!” Koyuki said, shading her eyes with her hand so she didn’t have to narrow them against the sun. “My brother’s right over by where he is.”

She needn’t have said anything. The two of them were all but carbon copies of one another, and you were quite certain that you could’ve picked them out as siblings in any crowd.

“He looks just like you,” you offered, which was a bit tongue-in-cheek, but she didn’t seem to take it personally.

“We get that a lot,” she said. “What about you? Who are you with?”

“Technically, I’m not with anyone,” you began with a cringe. It sounded even more embarrassing when you said it aloud, especially when Koyuki’s inquisitive smile didn’t drop. “The thing is, both Karasu and number 16, Yo Hiori, invited her, so I just took her extra — what the fuck.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked out on the field and saw Karasu standing with someone eerily familiar. For a moment, you wondered if you were perhaps seeing a ghost or hallucinating or something, but as the seconds dragged by, you were forced to confront the fact that this was reality, that he was somehow, miraculously and inexplicably, here.

“Is everything okay?” your best friend said. “Hello? What’s gotten into you?”

“Hey,” you said faintly. “Why is your boyfriend talking to that — that — that creature? Why is that thing even on the field in the first place?”

“Number 9?” Koyuki said innocently. “Do you know him?”

You wanted to laugh and cry in turn. Did you know him? No, not really. He wasn’t anybody important or relevant, just a bad omen of sorts. What did it mean that he was here again? What aspect of your life would he manage to ruin this time?

“Are you serious?” your best friend said, clearly having reached the same conclusion you already had. “That Otoya dude is the theater guy?”

“Deadly serious,” you said. “What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be off ruining innocent moviegoers’ experiences?”

She responded with something snarky about how he was probably there to play soccer, but you tuned her out, far too taken with this discovery, with this Otoya. It was undoubtedly him; nobody else would have that same coloring, that same slender build or sly posture. Even from the distance, his countenance reminded you of a snake’s, or perhaps a mouse’s — entirely cunning and shifty, untrustworthy and quick. You couldn’t tell what business Karasu, who had always been open and honest to a fault, had with someone like that, but to your dismay, it seemed like the two of them were genuine friends.

For the most part, you tried to ignore him, and it was relatively simple to do so. He was nothing compared to the other players, slipping beneath your notice, or so you liked to think. After all, what cause did you have to focus on Otoya when there was number 7, scoring the kind of goal that movies were made about? He was astounding, and the way he crashed to the ground and crumpled in a heap, pale hair spilling onto the grass of the field and long limbs sprawled out beneath him, was so reminiscent of a tragic hero that you audibly gasped before you even knew what was happening, jumping to your feet and breaking into applause along with Koyuki and your best friend. For a moment, you three were the only ones in the entire stadium to react, and then everyone else roared to life as number 7 — Nagi, his name was Nagi — pumped his fist in the air.

“That was amazing!” you said as the cheers died down and you all returned to your seats. “I never realized that soccer could be so exciting to watch.”

Was this the kind of thing that your best friend got to see every time she went to one of Karasu and Hiori’s games for Bambi Osaka? Somehow, based on the surprised look in her eyes, you doubted that it was the case. This was something special, something out-of-the-ordinary, and so, too, was Nagi.

“That guy is skilled,” she agreed. “So is everyone else. Including that Otoya—”

“Don’t even mention him!” you said, cutting her off with a huff, fully aware that she was just trying to mess with you. “Nagi’s the one who scored, so stick to praising him!” 

“Hyoma’s doing so well!” Koyuki said, her face the same shade as her hair and split with a white grin. “I can’t believe it. It’s like he was never hurt at all!”

Overcome with a bout of shivering, you hugged yourself tightly, hoping for some meager warmth. Readjusting your scarf, you tucked your hands into the pockets of your sweater.

“Honestly, this is way more intense than I expected,” you said. “I really hope they manage to win.”

“They will,” your best friend said. “I’m confident of that.”

You didn’t know anywhere near as much as she did about soccer, so you had no choice but to trust her confidence. She was clearly assured of herself, and her faith inspired you to have your own. They would definitely be victorious. Even though the U-20 boys had those two players, Sae and Aiku, you could tell that the rest of them had nothing on the Blue Lock players, who were playing with such speed and skill that you couldn’t even wrap your head around it.

Right before the referee blew the whistle for halftime, Blue Lock’s number 10, Rin, scored another goal, putting them in the lead for the first half. The way he did it was definitely technically perfect, but to you, it seemed like it was effortless — which you supposed was half the skill of it all.

As the players cleared the field, jogging towards their locker rooms, Koyuki stood up, waving her hands frantically. You gave her an odd look, but she ignored you, far too focused on gaining someone’s attention.

“Hyoma! Over here!” she called out. Although it was far, her voice carried enough that her brother, who was in the middle of drinking from his water bottle, whipped around, his eyes widening when he noticed Koyuki taking out her phone and snapping a photo of him. “He noticed me! Ah, hello, Hyoma! You’re doing awesome!”

Behind the younger Chigiri, you noticed Karasu walking with someone else, and you were dimly aware of your best friend shouting out her boyfriend’s name, waving at him with the giddiness of a puppy. You would’ve found the entire exchange nauseatingly sweet, but you were too preoccupied with Karasu’s companion to pay them any mind.

Standing up, you jabbed your finger towards Otoya. You probably — definitely — looked insane, but for some reason, the thought of him just getting to hang around and attain something like stardom in the soccer world was unbearable. He turned his head to both sides, like he was checking to see if there was anyone else you could possibly be motioning towards, but when he came to the understanding that there was no one else, that there never had been, that it was only him, he pointed at himself hesitantly. With a curt nod, you flipped him off, rocking onto your heels when he froze in confusion and sitting back in your seat as Karasu dragged him off to the locker rooms where the rest of the team was undoubtedly waiting for them.

“That’s what he gets,” you said, brushing your palms off against your thighs in satisfaction.

“He probably has no idea who you are,” your best friend said with a giggle. “Also, you described him horribly back then. He’s really pretty good-looking, and the hair is nowhere near as bad as you made it sound.”

“I’m telling Karasu you said that,” you said, almost betrayed at the fact that she was taking Otoya’s side over your own. “If I was him, I’d be offended! My beloved girlfriend finds a guy who appears to be fresh out of the swamp attractive? That would really make me insecure.”

“I don’t find him attractive, I just said that he’s good looking. It’s objective,” she said. You almost opened your mouth to argue with her, but considering even you had nearly admitted that he was handsome, you found that you didn’t really have any grounds upon which to do so. “And fresh out of the swamp? Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

“No way,” you said, glowering at her, and only half in jest. “He owes me the price of the ticket he made me waste, but since he obviously isn’t going to pay me back, I’m going to make as much fun of him as possible.”

“You do that,” she said before turning to Koyuki and asking her if she wanted any snacks. You dug your elbows into your thighs, exhaling as you gazed out onto the empty field, marveling at the crystals which puffed into the air from your breath.

“So,” Koyuki said once your best friend was gone. “What’s the history between you and Otoya?”

“History? There’s no history,” you said.

“It sure seems like there is,” she said.

“There isn’t,” you said. “Well, unless you count obstruction of a movie in that category.”

“I’m…not sure? You’ll have to elaborate,” she said.

“Basically, I had to sit behind him in a movie theater once, and instead of actually getting to watch the film — which, mind you, I was very excited about seeing — I was treated to a front-row experience of him and his girlfriend’s make-out session,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the mere memory.

“Ah,” Koyuki said. “That’s the worst.”

“Isn’t it?” you said. “Anyways, I didn’t even know his name until today. He’s really not important; the only reason I’m here is because of the extra ticket and…actually, it’s embarrassing.”

Even as you said it, you shrank away from Koyuki, who would undoubtedly judge you for the shallow reasoning. How silly your foolish desires would seem to a girl who was supporting her little brother! Silly and dumb and pathetic and unrealistic. 

“It can’t be that bad,” she said, and she was so genuine when she did that you relented without further convincing.

“I want a boyfriend,” you admitted. “Not in, like, a desperate way or anything, but out of all of our friends back at home, I’m the only one who doesn’t have anything close to a relationship. I guess it would be nice to be the one who’s picked for a change, and it’s not like there’s anyone at my high school who I necessarily want to pick me.”

“I don’t think that’s embarrassing,” Koyuki said.

“Isn’t it? What kind of idiot goes to a soccer game just because they want to date one of the players? I bet those guys down there could have any girl they wanted. Why would they go for me? I’m not like my best friend. You know, Karasu was in love with her for years before he finally mustered up the courage to ask her out, and even then, it was only because she forced him to. How am I ever supposed to find someone like that by just sitting on the sidelines?” you said. You weren’t even sure why you were telling Koyuki all of this — the two of you had only just met, after all, but now that you had begun, you couldn’t stop. Maybe it was that you had never been able to say this to anyone, least of all your best friend, who you didn’t want to burden with your issues, but it was like a floodgate had opened. “That’s why it’s embarrassing. I’m just like every other fan with dreams bordering on delusion.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the case,” Koyuki said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “After all, your best friend is dating one of the players. I’m sure she and…Karasu, was it? The two of them would definitely be willing to help set you up with whoever you want, as long as the other party is open to it. That’s a connection that ‘every other fan’ doesn’t have.”

“That’s true,” you said. She patted you on the shoulder.

“Cheer up! Don’t think too much about it. Figure out if any of them are even worth your while, and then you can think about how you’ll approach them,” she said.

“I guess that makes sense,” you said.

“Good,” she said firmly. “If you don’t believe in yourself, then how can you expect other people to? Do you want a boyfriend?”

“Yes?” you said.

“Yes! Then you’ll get one,” she said. “Ooh! My fries!”

“I had to fight an old lady for these,” your best friend said, handing a bucket of fries to Koyuki and pressing a box of your favorite candy in your palm. “I know you didn’t ask for anything, Y/N, but I thought you might want this.”

“Thank you,” you said, tearing open the packet and taking out a handful to suck on as the second half began.

There was a new player on the U-20 team, and he managed to score two goals in quick succession, giving them the lead and a renewed vigor in play. His name was Shidou, and he was completely unlike anything you had ever seen before, cackling like a maniac as he played, talking about impregnation with every goal he made. It was so odd that it crossed the line from disconcerting into plain fascinating, and you found yourself trying to picture what a conversation with him would be like.

Shortly after Shidou’s first goal, Hyoma Chigiri collapsed to the ground. Koyuki inhaled sharply, stuffing her mouth with fries and chewing rapidly as another player, the number 3, stumbled before slumping over entirely. You swallowed, immediately glancing at your best friend, who was the only one unconcerned amongst the three of you.

“It looks like a cramp,” she reassured you both. “And I think Niko must’ve sprained his ankle during that earlier play. They’re going to have to put in alternates, but it’s not serious. Both of them just need some rest and they’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” Koyuki said. You hummed in agreement before returning your eyes to the match, where the substitutes were being announced. Up until this point, the only player that had even somewhat caught your eye was Nagi, and you wondered if either of the newcomers would manage to outdo him and his flashy goal from earlier.

Niko was being helped off of the field by his replacement, a tall boy with purple hair tied up in a messy ponytail and the number 14 emblazoned across his broad back. He hadn’t even played yet, but for some reason, he looked oddly familiar, and not just because he had the sort of body one would expect to feature in music videos. No, it was something else…

“No way, is that Reo Mikage?” you said, your hand flying to your mouth as you read the name lettered onto his jersey. What the hell was Reo Mikage doing in this match? As the scion of the Mikage Corporation, didn’t he have better things to be doing than kicking around a ball with a bunch of sweaty dumbasses?

“Like the corporate heir?” your best friend said. 

“I’m sure of it!” you said. Now that you could see his face, it was abundantly clear that it was him. There was no mistaking Reo Mikage, after all; the entire country knew who he was. “Oh, man, he’s even more gorgeous in person…do you think Karasu knows him? Can I get an introduction? He’s so dreamy and perfect and amazing and unreal!”

You were prone to such flights of fancy, after all. Nobody questioned it when you rambled on and on about this type of thing, especially because it never came to fruition. You were the one who talked and talked about things like weddings and marriage and romance, but when it came down to it, you had less experience than a middle schooler.

“I can ask,” she said. “I’m sure they’re at least acquainted, considering they’re playing on the same team — wait! Look, it’s Hiori! Oh my goodness, it’s Hiori! Yay, yay, Hiori! You’ve got this!”

Her voice tapered into a squeal, which might’ve been strange, considering she was cheering for a man who was very much not her boyfriend, but from what little you knew of the dynamic, Hiori was something like a younger brother to both her and Karasu alike, so it wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest.

When he ran onto the field, it was to join Otoya at his side, earning him a thump on the back in greeting. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, wishing that Hiori had gone anywhere else, because now Otoya had recaptured your attention, and you had done so well at ignoring him thus far that you were irritated to remember he still existed.

“Somebody save that poor, innocent boy,” you said, shaking your head as the game began anew.

“Hiori? From what?” your best friend said.

“From being corrupted and turned into a bad-mannered asshole by Otoya,” you said. Currently, the ball was nearer to Blue Lock’s goal than the U-20’s, so Otoya was hanging back, ever-ready for a counter but still hiding in the shadows, leaving the majority of the work to the defenders.

You didn’t think anyone else was looking at him just then, so you took the moment to pick apart his every flaw in a way that felt private, even though you were both surrounded by people. Skinny as hell. Shitty posture. Dumb hair. Expressionless. Probably awful at soccer. Definitely has perpetually scraped knees. Might smell like grass, and not in a good way. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid —

“Woah,” your best friend said, causing you to blink and redirect your attention to where Reo Mikage had just done…something. You weren’t really sure what, exactly, but it must’ve been sufficiently impressive, because there were more than a few claps and hollers of approval thrown his way. “Reo’s rich and a soccer genius? I thought you were full of bullshit earlier, but you actually might be onto something.”

“Exactly,” you said, and although you still didn’t know what Reo had done to deserve the title of ‘soccer genius’, you fully believed that he deserved it. “What a man.”

Unfortunately, no matter how good both Reo and the rest of the players on the Blue Lock team were, Shidou still did make that second goal, which led to the current situation: number 11, Isagi, storming over to the sidelines, saying something to his coach with entirely more rage than you ever would’ve expected someone as meek as him could possess.

“They look like they’re arguing,” Koyuki said, worrying her lower lip in between her teeth. “Do you think everything is alright?”

Both you and her gazed expectantly at your best friend, who seemed shocked that you were deferring to her — not that she should’ve been, considering the fact that she had been explaining the game until this point to you pretty effectively.

“Maybe he’s mad about his cooler?” she said.

“Huh?” you said, trying to discern if this was one of her obscure literature references or something from social media that you had missed.

“Never mind,” she said. “Uh, if I had to guess, he’s probably either asking the coach to give them a new strategy or calling for their substitute to be put in. Shidou and Sae have backed them into a corner, and if they don’t switch things up soon, they’re going to lose.”

“Looks like Karasu and Hiori taught you more than you realized,” you said as the referee whistled to announce that the final substitute for the Blue Lock players would be taking the field. You leaned forwards in anticipation — given that the last substitution had resulted in Reo taking the field, you had high expectations for this last player, who according to the board was their number 13: Barou.

He more than delivered. His dark hair was pushed out of his face, away from his features, which were so sharp that they seemed to be made of marble. Although you were so far away, you could see how vibrant his crimson eyes were, how tempestuous and volatile everything about him, down to his very aura, was. He didn’t stop to greet Isagi, who was clearly pleased by his appearance, and when he took the field, it was with a sort of savagery, like a beast baring its fangs at its prey.

“That guy is scary,” your best friend said.

“Scary hot,” you said.

“Moving on from Reo already? This is why you’ll never have a boyfriend,” she said. “Too fickle.”

“Listen, I have to keep my options open! Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who’s good-looking, talented, and has been obsessed with them for years,” you said, elbowing her in the side and covering the sting of the truth with a smirk. It wasn’t her fault, after all. She couldn’t change the fact that someone loved her anymore than you could change the fact that no one loved you. “What if I get rejected by Reo? I need to have another option, or else I’m fresh out of luck.”

“Looks like he’s replacing Otoya,” she said. “What’s his name? Barou? I’m interested to see how he does.”

True to her word, Otoya was striding off of the field, pausing only to mutter something to Barou before joining the others on the bench. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the twist of events — you didn’t have to worry about distractions anymore. With Otoya gone, there wouldn’t be anything in your way. You wouldn’t have anything or anyone obstructing your enjoyment for the rest of the match.

“He’s getting rid of that wannabe bog monster? Even better! He’s quickly shooting up in my rankings,” you said, clapping your hands together.

“Wannabe — okay, I’ll just be happy for you,” she said. “Though his hair isn’t so green as to deserve this much slander…”

“Thanks,” you said, stretching your neck so you could see where Otoya was sitting with the other players. There he was, on the bench next to a fine-boned boy with curly black hair, sipping on some drink or another. You couldn’t quite tell given the angle, but as it made you feel better to think so, you decided that he must’ve been sitting there and seething that he had been replaced. It must’ve crushed him, that he had been taken off the field before he could even do anything meaningful! How humiliating. If only you were there, too, you would’ve crouched there and told him these things…it still wouldn’t make up for that dumb movie that he made you miss, that you still hadn’t gotten the chance to see, but it would probably make you feel better for the moment.

“Check this out,” your best friend said, interrupting your train of thought for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. “They’re making edits of us.”

“What?” you said. Koyuki let out a delighted laugh as you all watched the clip of the three of you in the audience play.

“They’re really talented!” she said. “Save that and send it to me after the game, please.”

“On it,” your best friend said, saving the video to a folder and then putting her phone away, just in time for you to catch Barou scoring in what, once again, must’ve been some great feat but was to you just another move you couldn’t really comprehend.

Every single person was on their feet, screaming as Barou yanked his jersey off, throwing it into the air and flexing his arms as he jumped in celebration, roaring back at the audience as everyone chanted his name.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow is right!” your best friend said, prompting you to give her a concerned look. “That was an incredible play. Barou is in another realm entirely!”

Of course, she was talking about soccer. But that was the furthest thing from your mind at the moment; you didn’t care about the sport or Barou’s aptitude at it, especially not now.

“Oh, I don’t know enough about soccer to be in awe of his goal,” you explained. “I’m talking about those wow muscles of his. I bet he could carry me with one arm…”

“Ew, nasty,” she said, smacking your forearm in reprimand. You didn’t even deny it; you both knew exactly what you meant when you said that, and it was something you would stand by if need be.

“Come on, you know it’s true!” you said.

“I have a boyfriend. I’m not allowed to answer that,” she said. You crossed your arms at the hypocrisy of that response.

“But you’re allowed to say that Otoya is good-looking?” you said.

“That was just me being nice!” she said.

“I sense favoritism,” you said with an injured sniff on Barou’s behalf. “And not even the good kind, because for some reason, you’re favoring the worst guy in the bunch! Since Karasu isn’t around to be disappointed in you, I’ll do it on his behalf.”

“Shut up,” she said lightly. “I liked you better when you were in love with Reo.”

At the mention of Reo, your face warmed, and involuntarily, you looked over to where he was talking with his team’s goalie, his expression grave and motions decisive.

“Believe me, I still am,” you said. “He’s not the kind of person you get over easily.”

“Ah, and remind me of how many times you’ve spoken to him?” she said. You ground your teeth.

“That’s not the point!” you said, which earned you a snicker from her.

“Did you know that those two are brothers?” Koyuki said a few minutes later, pointing at the two opposing players battling for the ball.

“Sae and Rin?” you said.

“Mhm, yeah, I overheard these two guys talking about it while I was at the trash can earlier,” she said. 

“Their parents must have incredible genes,” your best friend said. “Those two are easily the best players on their respective teams.”

“They’re both really good,” you added, not because you had any opinions one way or another but because you wanted to be included in the discussion.

Even you could tell that this last play was crucial. With the score tied and both teams functioning at a completely different intensity than earlier, everyone in the audience was keenly aware of the fact that the game could really go either way. Koyuki had your best friend’s hand in a death grip, and you were twisting the ends of your scarf as you sucked on your teeth, every successive moment of the game causing your nerves to fray further.

Right when it seemed that everything would end with a tie, the ball landed at Isagi’s feet, and even though you had hardly taken notice of him for this entire game, you were suddenly struck by the fact that he, too, was kind of angry, was kind of beautiful. Without taking a moment to consider or hesitate, he drew his leg back and, nanoseconds before the referee blew the whistle, slammed his foot into the ball, sending it flying to the net with a flourish.

“They did it!” Koyuki shrieked, tackling you and your best friend in a hug before you even had a chance to react, pulling you to her sides so tightly it was as if you were the ones who had won. 

“They did!” your best friend shrieked back.

“I can’t believe it!” you said, your cheek smushed against Koyuki’s collarbone as your eyes darted towards the field, where the Blue Lock boys were celebrating. “They really pulled it off!”

It was ridiculous. It was amazing. It was fantastical. There was no way it should’ve ended up in this way, but somehow, it really was the case that the Blue Lock players had won. That was the sort of thing that only happened in movies, and yet it had ended up like that. There was a sort of hope which brewed in you just then, a hope that if you lived in a world where a team of high school forwards could beat the best players in the country, then the chances of things working out for you might not be so slim after all.

After that, everything seemed to work out exactly as Koyuki had predicted they would. Somehow, and you weren’t quite sure what she had said to convince him of it, but somehow, your best friend had gotten the two of you invited to a meeting that Karasu was having with some of the other Blue Lock players — players which included none other than Reo Mikage himself.

“Tell Karasu to sit next to you, and then have him get Reo to sit in between himself and me,” you said when you arrived at the cafe where the meeting was supposedly going to be held. You had made her arrive a few minutes early, just in case Reo was the type to believe in the early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable school of thought, and you had gotten enough sleep last night, so you were fresh-faced and ready to make a good impression on the boy who was almost assuredly the love of your life, or at least soon would be.

“Yup, I know the plan,” your best friend said.

“Good,” you said, although considering she had been the one to come up with the plan in the first place, it would’ve been a little ridiculous if she had forgotten by now. “Have you picked what you’re ordering? Since no one else is here yet, I can go in and grab stuff for both of us.”

“Yeah, I want this, and this,” she said, pointing at what she wanted. You made a mental note of which menu items she had indicated before nodding.

“Mm, looks good,” you said. “Eek, I think there’s a line.”

“It’s peak brunch time,” she said, which did make sense. “We’re lucky to have gotten a table at all, let alone one so big. Just leave your sweater on your chair so no one else takes it. Unless you want me to go instead?”

“Nope, I don’t want to look like a friendless loser if Reo gets here before you come back or the others show up,” you said, wincing in horror at the mere thought. It was less embarrassing for her to be waiting by herself, since she had her boyfriend as an excuse, but you? You were barely associated with any of the players, and without her and Karasu there to smooth over any introductions, you were sure they would be more than a little stilted and awkward.

“You should hurry up and join the queue before it gets any worse, then,” she said, pointing at where the line was getting longer and longer. “It would suck if you were stuck waiting and Reo left before you could even meet him.”

“I’m going!” you said, sufficiently motivated, if not by your lack of caffeine until now, then by the chance that this entire trip would’ve been for nothing.

Luckily, although it was long, the line was fast-moving, and it didn’t take you quite as much time as you thought it would to get to the counter. Rattling off what you and your best friend wanted, you paid for it all and tucked the receipt into your pocket, stepping to the side to wait for your order to be placed on the counter.

“Y/N!” the barista shouted, setting the two drinks and scones you had ordered onto the counter. You furrowed your brow as you inspected them, turning the clear cup of iced coffee around to ensure it was your name written on it. “Uh, ma’am, is there a problem?”

“What?” you said, glancing up at the barista, who was looking at you in confusion. “No, I just thought I had ordered this hot. I must’ve said the wrong thing, though! Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, no!” she said, reaching for the cup. “Let me remake it!”

“It’s fine,” you said, tugging the cup back. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a limousine driving away, which almost certainly meant Reo was here by now, and yet there you were, stuck inside of the cafe. “I don’t mind if it’s iced.”

“It’s my first week, so I definitely just got confused. It’s my mistake, so please allow me to rectify it. Free of charge!” she said, snatching the cup from your hand without letting you get a word in edgewise.

You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for her to remake it, her every movement far too slow, to the point that it felt like she was doing it on purpose. Finally, she came back with the new cup, and balancing it on your hand with what your best friend had ordered, you muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to the barista and rushed out of the shop.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said by way of explanation, keeping your eyes on your best friend, too flustered to look anywhere else. Normally, she would’ve given you an encouraging nod, but for some reason, she seemed on edge, which was your first sign that something was wrong. “The barista got confused and made my drink iced. I told her it wasn’t a big deal, but she insisted on dumping it and remaking it properly, free of charge. Apparently, she’s new or something, so she’s still in that phase where she isn’t entirely jaded by the public yet.”

“It’s okay,” your best friend said, and the lack of a joke or even a smile was so out-of-character for her that you actually were about to ask her what was wrong. 

Then, however, there was a flash of green in your peripheral vision, a specific shade like an April spring cutting through March’s white winter, and something cold rushed over you as you realized just what that meant.

“You!” you said, pointing at the one person you didn’t want to see, the one person who was basically the sum total of every single moment of bad luck you had ever had, the one person that was your life’s misfortune concentrated into a slender body, the one person who kept showing up for some reason. Your best friend’s drink slipped from your hands as you set the rest of your order onto the table, glaring at Otoya all the while. He groaned, burying his face in his hands, and the reaction was so adverse coming from someone who had never even been wronged by you that it only caused you to be even more irascible. “You owe me ten dollars!”

“What? No, I don’t. We’ve never even met, so why would I owe you any money at all?” Otoya said. “Wait. We haven’t met, right? Or did we go on a date at some point? If so, I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but you have to understand that things just end up like that sometimes. I’m not going to compensate you for that.”

You were going to crush his throat. You were going to reach out and wrap your fingers around his pale neck and squeeze until he choked and stopped spouting bullshit like that. What kind of ego did he possess, that he immediately assumed you would ever want to date him? Him! 

“You were definitely on a date,” you hissed. “I wasn’t, though. In fact, I was just innocently trying to watch a movie with my cousins, when somebody decided that they would just go ahead and make out with their date, right in front of my face, for the entire one hour and forty-seven minutes of the film!”

“Oh, I do remember you!” he said, snapping his fingers in recognition. “You came and yelled at me after the movie, too, right? That was funny.”

Before you could say anything further, you were interrupted by none other than Reo Mikage, who was clearly more than a little annoyed by the argument.

“Okay, guys, how about we all relax and get to the point of this meeting instead of squabbling over past grievances?” he said with a sigh.

It was a miracle you didn’t burst into tears then and there. Of course it happened like this. Of course it did. You suddenly felt so dumb for hoping that it would be different. Why had you thought that you would ever be appealing to someone like that? Why had you believed it would be possible for you to actually impress him? Your clothes suddenly seemed too garish, your face comical and your hair outlandish in front of his exasperation. You shouldn’t have tried so hard. You should’ve known better.

“Fine by me,” Otoya said after a second. “Yo, you gonna sit down or what?”

“You guys can have your meeting without us, since I’m quite sure it’s not anything that we’ll be able to meaningfully contribute to. In the meantime, she and I will go and get a replacement drink for me,” your best friend said, standing and using her hand to steer you back into the cafe.

As soon as the door swung shut behind you, you allowed your expression to crumple. “I completely made an awful first impression on Reo Mikage!”

“I can’t lie, you definitely did, but at least it was entertaining for the rest of us,” she said. That didn’t make you feel any better, and she must’ve picked up on that, because she wrapped her arm around your shoulders as you got in line again. “Cheer up! There’s still Barou, Nagi, and Isagi, right? You have an entire list for a reason. Reo might be a wash, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up entirely.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” you said. The fact that you had been so close, that you had had Reo within your grasp before making an idiot of yourself in front of everyone…it felt close to what you assumed being slapped in public must’ve. “If only that lettuce-headed Otoya weren’t here! Things would’ve gone perfectly, but ruining my life must be a particular hobby of his.”

That was the conclusion you had reached: Otoya was something like a curse for you. If he was there, then things would invariably go badly; Reo and the movie were the proof of it, and you didn’t want to know what other aspects he would meddle with if given the chance.

“You might be better off if you pretend he’s not around,” your best friend said, as if she were reading your mind. “How about this? We’ll get Tabito to set you up on a date with one of the others on your roster, and I’ll personally ensure that Otoya stays far, far away.”

“Thanks,” you said, because if she was guaranteeing it, then it was all but assured, and the idea was much more palatable than further fumbling around in front of Reo, who already likely thought of you as a bratty girl prone to throwing tantrums. Overcome with fondness for her generosity, you turned to her and continued: “Here, I’ll pay for your drink, since I spilled it the first time.”

“Yeah, I was going to make you do that even if you didn’t offer,” she said, wrinkling her nose at you as you reached the counter and began to order.

By the time you received your new drinks and additional scones, your stomach was rumbling. Exiting the cafe with half of a scone in your mouth and a stack of napkins in your hands, you raised your eyebrows when you saw that the number of people at the table you had left behind seemed to have multiplied.

You recognized a few of them — Karasu and Reo, of course, given that you had gone to school with the former for years and were the latter’s self-proclaimed biggest fan, as well as Otoya, begrudgingly, and Isagi, who was one of the newcomers but had been the one to score the winning goal for Blue Lock, making him a person of note. Then there were others who you remembered only vaguely — Hyoma Chigiri, who was Koyuki’s little brother, and Kenyu Yukimiya, who was a model and, somehow, a friend of your best friend’s.

Deciding that the boy with the cascading black hair and fluttering lashes seemed like the safest, most neutral party, and having no intentions of confronting Isagi with Otoya so near, you sidled over to him, sipping on your drink and waiting for him to notice you. He did almost immediately, and with a smile, he waved you closer.

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Aryu. Who might you be?”

The fact that he had introduced himself instead of automatically assuming you knew who he was instantly set you at ease, so you didn’t even feel shy in reciprocating.

“Y/N,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you, Aryu.”

“And you as well!” he said.

“Do you mind if I hang around with you for a bit?” you said.

“Not at all,” he said. “In fact, it might be for the better. I fear I’ve offended Karasu a bit, and any buffer I can get is one I’ll accept.”

“Offended Karasu?” you said. “Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. He’s pretty crabby.”

“I can’t blame him this time,” the boy sitting next to Aryu piped up. “Aryu was totally hitting on his girlfriend. I’m Tokimitsu, by the way! Uh, but, not like you asked or anything. Sorry!”

“I was not hitting on her! I was only acknowledging her glamorous spirit!” Aryu said. “There’s a difference.”

“Um, okay,” you said, because you had a sense that you didn’t want to know what he meant by your best friend having a glamorous spirit. “And don’t apologize, Tokimitsu. It’s always good to know more people. Speaking of which, who are the others?”

“Well, you know Karasu,” Aryu said. “Next to him is Otoya, then Reo, Yukimiya, Isagi, Chigiri, and Bachira. We’re all in Blue Lock together.”

“Besides me, the rest of them played in the game against the U-20s!” Tokimitsu added. “Reo was a substitute, but he was totally amazing, wasn’t he?”

“Totally,” you said, tempering your exhale so it didn’t sound dreamy and longing. “And yes, now that you mention it, I do remember watching all of you play. I was at the game, you know!”

“Yeah, of course!” Tokimitsu said. “You’re one of the girls from the edits.”

“I didn’t know how popular those were,” you said, frowning in confusion. According to your best friend, the fact that you, her, and Koyuki had been the first to cheer for Nagi’s goal meant that the cameras had focused on you for a while, leading people to make edits of the three of you in turn. She was more invested in it than you; in truth, you didn’t really keep up with that side of social media, except for when she sent you particularly good ones. “I mean, you recognized me just based on those alone?”

“Apparently, you’re extra-famous,” Aryu said. “You’re in one of the top Blue Lock pairings.”

“Top what now?” you said. Tokimitsu hummed in agreement.

“I was telling your friend about this earlier, too, but it’s really the case — people have been shipping you guys with the players!” he said.

“That means they want you to get together, or believe you would make a good couple,” Aryu explained, ostensibly because your befuddlement was still shining through.

“Oh,” you said. “I’m assuming she’s shipped with Karasu, then.”

“Of course,” Tokimitsu said. “They’re the number one trending couple, actually. You’re number two.”

“With who?” you said tentatively, unsure of whether you wanted to find out. What if it was Reo or Barou? What if it wasn’t them? What if it was someone completely random, like Bachira? Not that you had anything against Bachira, of course, but you weren’t sure how you felt about being…what was the word? Shipped? You weren’t sure how you felt about being shipped with him, that was all.

“Otoya!” Tokimitsu said cheerfully. “It’s because of that clip of you giving him the middle finger right before halftime.”

“It’s a thing now,” Aryu said, completely unaware or perhaps uncaring of the fright mingling with disgust that was seeping into every crevice of your body. “People have made matching profile photos of the two of you. It’s all very sweet.”

“Otoya?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “People are ‘shipping’ me with Otoya? Are you serious? You’re not, right? Please tell me you’re joking. You’re joking, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

Tokimitsu rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. “Uh, I mean, it’s not like it’s a binding vow or anything. You don’t have to date him just because a bunch of social media users think you should…”

“How?” you said. “How does someone look at me and then look at him and think that we’re somehow compatible? That’s — that’s — it’s preposterous, that’s what it is!”

“Um, I don’t really know, but I’m, er, sorry!” Tokimitsu squeaked. 

In the back of your mind, you were aware that you should be apologizing to Tokimitsu, not the other way around. He was only telling you what he had seen and what was surely one of those silly internet trends that would pass in a week or two; you were the one who was so affected by it when you really had no reason to be. In fact, you wouldn’t have been, had it been anyone else. Anyone but Otoya and you would’ve laughed along, but it wasn’t anyone else. It was him, it was that insufferable, mannerless freak with the hair from a children’s coloring book and the kind of ego that you would read about in overinflated posts online — he was the one that people had, for some reason, propped up as a good match for you or whatever it was that shipping meant.

“Moving on,” Aryu said, “I love your outfit today, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, knowing an attempt at redirection when you saw it and deciding there was no point in stewing further. “Your hair is really pretty, by the way. What’s your secret? It’s so long, but it doesn’t look damaged at all.”

“I’m glad you asked!” Aryu said. “The secret is oiling it every weekend.”

“Ah, I see,” you said, nodding along at the appropriate moments as he walked you through his hair-care routine.

“You know what we should do?” Bachira’s singsong voice cut through Aryu’s speech, catching all of your attention. “Since all of us are together for the first time outside of Blue Lock, we should hang out!”

“That’s good with me. Our meeting ended up not being that productive,” Yukimiya said.

“Mostly due to certain individuals,” Reo said, looking pointedly at Otoya, which made you feel particularly self-satisfied. Maybe all hope wasn’t completely lost — if Reo was assigning the larger portion of the blame to Otoya, then perhaps you could still convince him that you weren’t to be associated with his childishness.

“Me? Blame her!” Otoya said, pointing at you. You made a face at him, which he did not return, but you felt in your heart that he very much wanted to. 

“Reo’s too much of a glam gentleman to blame a lady for anything,” Aryu said.

“What he said,” Reo said. “Though I wouldn’t put it like that.”

You supposed it was as close to a win as you were getting, so you didn’t fight it. If that was what it took for Reo to view you in a favorable light, then that was what it took. You didn’t have the room to complain, not in the slightest.

“Where should we go?” Tokimitsu said, cutting off Otoya before he could formulate a response. “I’m okay with anything.”

“Wait, what about Nagi? Isn’t he with you guys?” Reo said, and although he directed it to Isagi, you could feel your ears perking up at the mention of Nagi, who was another one of your favorite players, albeit not on the levels of Reo or Barou.

“He was supposed to meet up with us, but he overslept, and then he saw an arcade on the way, so he stopped in there,” Isagi said.

“Reo, I bet you have Nagi’s location on your phone at all times, right?” Bachira said. He was met with a nod from Reo. “Then I say we use that to go and find him!”

“An arcade day does sound like a blast,” Yukimiya said.

“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’m going to stay back and spend the day with my girlfriend,” Karasu said, putting a particular emphasis on the last word and giving Aryu a dirty look when he did so.

“She can come, too!” Bachira said. “On one condition: she has to be my partner for rhyming ping-pong.”

“That’s a fair deal in my books,” your best friend said, although you knew she had no interest in rhyming ping-pong nor in an arcade day. The two of you had been friends for so long that you could read her easily, and today was no different; to you, if not to anyone else, it was painfully obvious that she was going along with Bachira’s plan only because she wanted to help you, because the prospect of Reo, Nagi, and Isagi all in one place was basically the biggest opportunity you had been presented with since she had approached you with the spare ticket to the game.

“Then I guess we’re off to the arcade,” Karasu said. “Lead the way, Reo.”

“Follow me,” Reo said, holding up his phone, which displayed the elusive Nagi’s location on the screen. You all did as he commanded, allowing him to walk in front and breaking into smaller sub-groups as you made your way to the arcade. Your best friend hung back with Karasu, as was to be expected, while Yukimiya joined Reo so that they could actually talk about the economics of Blue Lock, which was what they had planned to do during the meeting that you had crashed. Aryu and Tokimitsu flanked you as Aryu described every single step he took in the shower, and a few paces behind you, Chigiri and Bachira argued over which arcade games were the most fun to play. Isagi was doing his best to mediate, while Otoya was egging them both on in turn, because of course he was. 

He was such a contrary person. One wouldn’t expect it just from looking at him, but he really was that sort, always itching for some kind of discord, some kind of chaos — he must’ve thrived in it. No wonder he was so fond of banging into your life in his ungraceful way; he probably derived something like entertainment from it.

“Did you get that, Y/N?” Aryu said. You had reached the door to the arcade, and he was looking at you expectantly. You had been too taken with listening to Chigiri, Bachira, Isagi, and Otoya to actually comprehend what Aryu was saying, and you squirmed under the weight of his gaze, which had the kind of gravity to it that made you think he was privy to some information that he didn’t plan on sharing but which he found entirely amusing regardless.

“Yes, of course,” you said, and even though the lie was entirely unconvincing, he only nodded, sweeping inside of the arcade without another word.

At first, it seemed like Reo must’ve gotten the wrong location, but then, rounding the corner, you saw Nagi sitting at one of the booths, controls in his hands, his sweet face scrunched into a frown as he shot down the enemy NPCs without flinching. You all waited for a second, but when he didn’t notice you standing behind him, Karasu wrestled him into a headlock with a chuckle.

“There you are, pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” he said, messing with Nagi’s hair as Nagi whined in protest. “You’re going to lose all of your friends, you jerk!”

“Caught red-handed,” Reo said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in a manner not too dissimilar to an exhausted mother. “Classic Nagi.”

“Now that we’ve found him, it’s time to party!” Bachira said. “Tokimitsu, let’s go play darts!”

“Okay!” Tokimitsu said. You watched them go before trying to come up with something that you could do without embarrassing yourself. You weren’t the best with the arcade games, so you didn’t want to go for one of the complicated machines that Nagi seemed to prefer, because the likelihood that you’d just look like a fool in front of him was high.

“I’m heading over to the claw machine,” you said, as that was likely a safe bet, and in a worst-case scenario, you would at least get a plushie out of it. “Wanna come?”

You were talking to your best friend, but for some reason, Karasu, Aryu, and Otoya took this as an open invitation, coming along with you as you navigated towards the claw machine. You wrinkled your nose, because you had been hoping to have a moment alone to regroup and perhaps get another one of your best friend’s pep talks, which would’ve done a world of good for your rapidly dwindling confidence, yet now the very cause of your stress was strolling along at Karasu’s side without a care in the world.

In the middle of the claw machine was a panda plushie, and your eyes widened when you realized how similar it was to the one you had slept with all through your childhood. Your mother had accidentally thrown it away when your family had moved, right after you graduated elementary school, and although she had apologized fervently and scoured the internet for a suitable replacement, she had never managed to find one quite like it. You had long ago pushed it aside, pretending like you didn’t care, but now that you were faced with a near-replica, you were surprised to find your heart was twinging at the familiarity.

Your first attempt was, unfortunately, an abysmal failure. The claw gave out right before you were able to drop the plushie in the chute, probably because you were out of practice, as you didn’t typically go to the arcade unless you were forced to. Your hands must’ve wavered, your grip too weak or arms too unsteady; brushing it off, you took a deep breath and inserted another quarter into the machine, rolling your shoulders before trying again.

However, your second attempt went much like the first, the panda rolling back into the pile with the rest, its gleaming black-button eyes peering at you innocently, its paws perched atop the head of a brown dog. You swallowed, and even though you should’ve by all rights given up by now, you were so attached to the idea of this plushie that you couldn’t bring yourself to. Dropping your last quarter into the slot, you thought that there was a real merit to that old saying — third time’s the charm, or whatever. 

Yet, inexplicably, the exact same thing happened again. Just a few centimeters too early, the claw gave out, leaving you out of quarters and without a plushie alike.

“This has got to be rigged!” you said, smacking the glass of the machine and glaring accusingly at the panda. There was no way you had failed three times. You weren’t the greatest, but you weren’t nearly that bad! The only explanation was that the arcade had somehow tampered with the machine so that nobody could get any of the prizes.

“Move out of the way,” Otoya said, nudging you and taking the controls with the kind of ease that could only be borne of deep familiarity. You gaped at him, too confused to yell at him for his rude takeover and the way his upper arm was pressing against your own. “Let me show you how the masters get it done.”

“You call yourself a claw-machine master?” your best friend said critically. “What, do you practice or something?”

“Girls love it when you win stuffed animals for them,” Otoya said, fishing out a quarter from his coat pocket and inserting it into the machine. “Check out my flow!”

You were dumbfounded as he grabbed the exact plushie you wanted within seconds, expertly maneuvering it towards the chute with an intense kind of concentration.

“I never put you down as someone with this type of functional glam,” Aryu said, pressing his face against the glass of the machine. “I sincerely repent for the underestimation!”

“You really are a master,” your best friend breathed. She wasn’t wrong, exactly — Otoya was skillful, his fingers stable and face blank as he ensured the plushie was perfectly within the grasp of the claw. You would’ve complimented him if it wasn’t so infuriating that he was good at this, too.

“Stop shaking the machine, idiots, you’ll make him mess up,” Karasu said, pulling the two of them away by the backs of their collars, although he, too, seemed enthralled by Otoya’s prowess.

Right before the machine went dark and his turn ended, he lined the claw up with the chute, pressing the release button and snickering when the plushie dropped down it perfectly, without even a catch. Bending over to retrieve it, he brandished it in front of him, his expression unchanging, bar for a slight glimmer in his eyes.

“Bam,” he said, tossing it at you. “Ninja skills.”

It hit you in the face and fell to the ground, which drew a chuckle out of Karasu and was the cherry on the top of the entire event. How was it that you hadn’t managed to even get close, and yet Otoya had done it so effortlessly? He was completely unfazed, watching you as you crouched to pick up the panda, tucking it under your arm and praying your face conveyed the depths of your displeasure.

“You better not find yourself anywhere near the dartboards!” you said, already fantasizing about all of the things you could do with a set of darts and a target shaped like him. “I’m warning you, I have a bad aim, so look out!”

With that, you decided to join the darts competition Bachira had set up, hugging your stuffed animal as you stomped off, keeping your fingers crossed that Otoya would get the hint and stay far, far away from you for the rest of the day.

When you reached the area where the darts were being played, you were treated with two separate versions of the game being conducted concurrently. To the left, Nagi was standing in front of the board, his arms spread and his back to Bachira, Isagi, and Chigiri as the three of them took turns throwing darts in his direction, apparently to ‘punish’ him for standing them up or something.

“Hey, Y/N!” This was Tokimitsu, who was in the game on the right, along with Yukimiya and Reo. “Do you want to play with us?”

“If you guys don’t mind,” you said, waiting for Reo’s response specifically, thinking that this would probably be a good way of judging what he thought of you.

“Not at all!” Yukimiya said.

“It’s a bit late, but darts isn’t the kind of game where that matters,” Reo said.

“We’re not keeping score too closely, anyways,” Tokimitsu said. “So it’s not a problem!”

“If that’s the case, then sure,” you said. You had nothing better to do, and even though Reo was obviously lukewarm about you joining, Yukimiya and Tokimitsu, at least, seemed happy about your arrival, so you vowed to stay close to them for the most part.

“Who’s up next?” Reo said.

“It’s my turn, but I don’t mind if Y/N takes it,” Yukimiya said, smiling at you kindly and handing you a dart. You took it gratefully, squinting one eye closed and throwing it at the board, cheering when it hit one of the rings with a higher point value.

“Nice job!” Tokimitsu said.

“Yes, well done,” Reo said. “If you had been playing from the start, you’d probably be in the lead.”

“Thanks!” you said, stepping backwards so Yukimiya had space to go. “I was at the claw machine for a bit, which is why I’m late.”

“Is that where you got that stuffed animal?” Reo said, pointing at the panda you were cradling. Delighted by the chance to actually have a conversation with him, you nodded eagerly.

“Yes! I actually used to have one just like this when I was kid, but it ended up in the trash a while back. Seeing it here in the arcade was kind of like destiny in that sense,” you said.

“You must be really good at the claw machine if you managed to get something that big,” Reo said, writing down Yukimiya’s score and motioning for Tokimitsu to take his place. “I’ve been here with Nagi before, and it’s almost definitely rigged or something. Neither of us have ever won anything from it.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, overjoyed by his admission that both he and Nagi had struggled as well. “Well, actually, I wasn’t able to do it myself, so Otoya had to…but all’s well that ends well, right?”

Reo actually laughed at this, handing the scorecard to Yukimiya. You blinked, wondering what he possibly could’ve found funny in that, but he didn’t elaborate much, beyond simply saying: “Otoya, huh?”

“I guess he’s not entirely useless,” you said. “But that’s a single redeeming quality in a whole host of negative ones, so it doesn’t change anything.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, and you didn’t know why, but funnily enough, it sounded like he didn’t believe you in the slightest.

At some point in the tournament, your best friend and Karasu wandered over to where you were, taking in the scenery while doing their level best not to be the second-most disgusting couple to ever walk the face of this planet — the first, of course, being Otoya and whatever girl he had gone to that movie with.

“Who’s winning?” your best friend said.

“I think Yuki is up right now,” Reo said after evaluating the tally marks on the scorecard. “Although Tokimitsu’s catching up. It’s super close. Could be anyone’s game.”

“Now that you’re here, though, let’s go play rhyming ping-pong!” Bachira said, dropping the darts in his hands and batting his eyelashes at your best friend, who had after all promised she’d play with him.

“Who will we play against, though?” she said. 

“Nagi, for one,” Bachira said. You hoped that he didn’t volunteer you to be Nagi’s partner; as much as you would’ve loved to be associated with him in that way, you were awful at ping-pong, and you sensed that dragging Nagi down in a match against his friends wasn’t exactly the way to his heart.

“I don’t want to,” Nagi said. Bachira teasingly waved a dart towards him, which made Nagi’s sleepy frown deepen and his shoulders slump. “Okay, I will.”

“Then Tabito can be your teammate,” your best friend said.

“You’re challenging me?” Karasu said. “You’re going to regret that. Prepare to lose.”

“Bachira and I won’t let you get even a point, right, Bachira?” she shot back.

“That’s right!” Bachira said, high-fiving her and then dashing ahead as you all made your way over to where the ping-pong tables were at various speeds. You didn’t have any particular desire to get there before anyone else, so you walked at a leisurely pace, finding yourself alongside Hyoma Chigiri, whose older sister you had sat with during Blue Lock’s game against the U-20s. You and your best friend had kept in touch with Koyuki in the days following the match, so Hyoma seemed like far more of a friendly face than the rest, even though you had never actually met him.

“My sister told me that the two of you are friends,” he said when he noticed that you both had fallen into step. “It’s nice to meet you…Y/N?”

“Yup, and likewise! Your sister is very sweet,” you said, and you weren’t just saying that to be polite — Koyuki had been kind enough to listen to your ramblings, although you had hardly known one another at the time, and even now she would check in and ask you how things were going with regards to your quest for a boyfriend.

“She is,” Chigiri said, leaning on the wall next to you as you watched Karasu, Bachira, Nagi, and your best friend get into position for rhyming ping-pong.

“Are we starting?” Nagi said.

“Yeah, you can serve. Do you know how to play?” Karasu said.

“Not really,” Nagi said, and his dour voice suggested he didn’t much care, either. 

“Whenever you hit the ball, you have to say a word that the other team can rhyme to, and when they return the serve, they have to come up with that rhyme and say it,” Bachira said. “Pretty easy, right?”

“It’ll be a simple win,” your best friend said, tossing her hair. “I’m first in the class for Modern Literature, so I know a lot of words.”

“Don’t underestimate Nagi,” Reo said, his pointer finger in the air for emphasis. “He may look like little more than a typical idiot slacker, but he actually came second in our year without studying at all.”

“I’m so torn,” you said, glancing between the two teams. On the one hand, there was Nagi, who, while no Reo, was certainly someone you’d never mind dating, but on the other, there was your best friend, who you had known for years. “Who do I root for?”

“Why’s it a question?” Chigiri said, giving you an odd look. “Wouldn’t you want to root for your best friend?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” you said, rolling your eyes, though it was mostly without malice. After all, it wasn’t like you wanted Chigiri to get it — the last thing you needed was Nagi finding out you thought he was attractive. You were fairly certain that that wouldn’t go well, especially if he came to know of it from someone else.

“Hmph,” Chigiri said. “Whatever.”

“Okay, are both sides ready?” Yukimiya said. He was the most impartial, given that he was friends with pretty much everyone on an equal level, so he had been chosen as the referee. Both teams nodded, and he whistled. “Rhyming ping-pong, begin! Your serve, Nagi!”

“Um,” Nagi said, tossing the ball in the air and tapping it with his paddle. “Orange?”

Yukimiya whistled again as you and Chigiri burst into laughter. “Out! Team Bachira wins!”

“What was that?” Karasu screeched as Bachira cheered before hurriedly saying something about karaoke and disappearing with Isagi and Reo.

“He must’ve gotten nervous in the face of Bachira and I’s combined prowess,” your best friend said.

“Not really. I just didn’t wanna play,” Nagi said.

“Is he always like this?” you whispered to Yukimiya as Karasu grabbed Nagi in his second headlock of the day. Nagi, for his part, was entirely unruffled, hanging limply in Karasu’s arms like a rag-doll.

“Nagi? Yeah, pretty much,” Yukimiya said. “He means well, but he’s generally one of the most unmotivated people you’ll meet. It’s not to say he isn’t kind or anything; he’s sweet, just lazy.”

“I see,” you said, weighing whether this trait could be considered endearing or irritating.

“Can we go see what Reo and the others are doing?” Nagi said, cutting into the conversation with a yawn. 

“Bachira said they were going for karaoke,” your best friend reminded everyone. “Maybe we should find Otoya and Aryu before joining them, though.”

“How about just Aryu?” you suggested, cheering up at the prospect of ditching Otoya for good and leaving him stranded in the arcade.

“I’ll text them,” Yukimiya said, just as the door creaked open. You sighed when Otoya peeked his head in, which earned you a slight eye roll from him but nothing more.

“No need. We’ve been looking for you guys for a while,” he said.

“Such unglam conduct, disappearing like that,” Aryu said.

“Sorry!” Tokimitsu said, covering his eyes with his hands in shame. Aryu patted him on the head comfortingly.

“Since we’re all here now, we should be good to head to karaoke,” Yukimiya said.

“Karasu and I are going to do a duet,” Otoya declared as you walked towards where Isagi, Reo, and Bachira were apparently setting up for the rest of you.

“Hell yeah,” Karasu snickered. “We’ll knock everyone’s socks off. They’re not ready.”

“What song?” Tokimitsu said, in a rare show of unwavering confidence — although he immediately winced, which kind of detracted from the unprecedented lack of stuttering and apologizing. 

“Something with a lot of belting,” Otoya mused. You cringed at the mental image; you had heard Karasu sing before, and it wasn’t pretty. You doubted Otoya was any better, and if anything he was likely worse, so the thought of the two of them screaming out the lyrics to My Heart Will Go On or something like that was akin to torture.

“Please don’t,” you said. “I didn’t bring ear plugs, and I do value my hearing.”

“Wait a second,” your best friend said, right before either Karasu or Otoya could retort. “Hey, Tabito, Yukimiya — isn’t that Aiku from the U-20 squad?”

“Huh?” Karasu said.

“It is!” Yukimiya said. “He’s talking to Reo, Isagi, and Bachira, too. That’s unexpected.”

“Looks like the whole gang’s here, in fact,” Karasu said, cracking his knuckles in what I was sure he thought was a menacing move.

“A fight?” Nagi said, which was the most interested you had ever heard him be in anything. He gazed at the U-20 squad with large, sleepy eyes, cocking his head slightly when they scowled back.

“Could be. I’m stoked,” Otoya said, and then, in an act beyond your comprehension, he struck what you could only describe as a pose from a ninja anime. You took it in with amazement, waiting for him to blush or realize what a clown he looked like, but when he did not, you dissolved into a fit of giggles, unable to take him seriously — not that you took him seriously in the first place, but this was just another addition to the long list of reasons why he was an idiot.

“Need backup, Isagi?” Yukimiya said, and although he was inadvertently threatening the others, the genial smile on his face didn’t drop for a second. “We’ve got you.”

“Ah, but don’t expect anything from me!” your best friend said with a peace sign. “I’ll cheer for you from the corner, though.”

“A girl? Hello—” Aiku began, though he was immediately interrupted by Karasu.

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” he said. You almost felt bad for him, considering how busy he had been defending his relationship to the rest, but then you remembered that he was friends with Otoya and figured that this was just his karma.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Aiku said with a shrug.  

“What are you all doing here?” another one of the U-20 boys said. You didn’t remember his name, as you hadn’t paid attention to any of the others on the field during the game; it was probably something irrelevant, though, or else it would’ve been mentioned.

“Likely the same thing as you,” Chigiri said, which really should’ve been obvious.

“But in a more glam way, naturally,” Aryu added. This wasn’t quite as obvious, considering you still didn’t really understand what he meant when he talked about ‘glam’, but it was probably his way of complimenting you all, so you didn’t argue.

“The fuck? Don’t think I won’t mess you up, freak!” the U-20 player said.

“Freak?” Aryu said. “Say that again, I dare you!”

“How about we settle this over a game of bowling?” Aiku said, lifting his hands in the air as a calming gesture. “That way, none of us get in trouble with our coaches for accidentally injuring ourselves.”

“Fine by us,” Yukimiya said. “We’ll beat you either way.”

“I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to watch you all pummel each other,” your best friend, who was the first to jump to insults but tended to cower from violence, agreed.

“Same,” you said before a genius idea occurred to you. “Though I wouldn’t mind too much if you roughed Otoya up a bit…”

“Hey!” Otoya said, straightening and turning to face you, his brows low over his eyes. You folded your arms over your chest and waited for him to say something further, but evidently, he decided it wasn’t worth it, because with a scoff, he turned his attention back to the others.

“The ladies have spoken,” Aiku said. “Bowling it is!”

With that, you all trudged to the nearby bowling alley. Your best friend was talking to Karasu, so you were left to shove your hands in your pockets and wander along by yourself as you often did, your thoughts going down trailing paths, the silence serving as an effective conduit.

In the time you had been hanging out with the Blue Lock players, what had you really accomplished? The only ones who could stand you were the ones you would not or could not date; the ones you were actually interested in obviously wanted nothing to do with you, and in truth, you couldn’t blame them.

Raising the panda plushie Otoya had won for you up in the air, you waited for its shiny black eyes to reflect some kind of answer to you. Of course, they didn’t, so with a heavy exhale, you held it to your chest, tucking your chin over it, thinking that maybe the steady pressure would dissipate the choking sensation creeping into your throat.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the bowling alley was that, right next to the lane that Karasu and the others had picked for you, there was a boy bowling all on his own. His enormous back was to you all, but there was something familiar about his spiky dark hair, and when he successfully got a strike and turned to retrieve a new ball, you gasped.

“Psst!” you said, shaking your best friend on the shoulder. “Check it out! It’s Shoei Barou!”

“He’s bowling all by himself?” she said, not even questioning you. “Huh, that’s a little startling. The more you know, I guess.”

“It’s kind of cute, if I’m being honest,” you said, trying to come up with the words to explain what you meant. “Like, oh my gosh, you’re a friendless loner! I need you so badly.”

That made sense enough in your mind, but your best friend clearly wasn’t impressed. That was probably a good thing; from what you had heard, it usually didn’t go well when two friends liked the same guy, and you were glad that your entirely opposite tastes meant you avoided that situation entirely, even if it did lead to this type of disconnect every now and again.

“There’s a lid for every pot,” she said eventually. “Well, what’s your plan? You’ve got Reo, Barou, Nagi, and Isagi all in one room. Who’re you going to go for?”

You were about to tell her that it didn’t matter — that no matter who you went for, the outcome would likely be the same, but she looked so happy that you couldn’t bring yourself to. After all, she had given up an entire day with her boyfriend just to help you, and the thought of how crestfallen she’d be if you just gave up was crushing. She’d never say anything, of course she wouldn’t, but even if she thought it for a moment, it would be enough to make you feel guilty for months. It wasn’t her fault you were such a failure at — at everything.

“Let’s weigh the pros and cons. That should help us come to a proper conclusion,” you said. It was the best thing you could think of. Perhaps she’d even be able to come up with something that you hadn’t yet considered, in which case you were all ears.

“Got it,” she said. “Cons: Reo finds you super immature for fighting with Otoya, Nagi doesn’t seem to care about you one way or another, Isagi is much more interested in hanging out with Bachira and Chigiri than trying to talk to you, and you haven’t even met Barou yet.”

That was about what you were thinking, but coming from her, it all sounded even worse. Koyuki had cheered you up during the game, but she couldn’t change the truth of the matter, which was that you had never had a chance in the first place. Whatever additional luck you had gained via your connection to Karasu was canceled out by Otoya’s presence, and so it was with trepidation that you next spoke.

“And, uh, the pros?”

“Uh….at least Nagi’s opinion of you isn’t bad?” she said. “And you haven’t had the chance to make a terrible impression on Barou yet.”

“That’s it?” you said. If even she with her keen eye hadn’t been able to pick up anything that was actually in your favor, then you supposed you might as well just give up now and go home. A nap in your bed, your actual bed, not the one you were sleeping in at your aunt’s place, was sounding more and more appealing, least of all because you could cry there where no one would hear you.

“Sorry,” she said. “But kind of. It’s not looking good.”

“What do I do, then?” you said. Your voice sounded too close to hinting at what you were really feeling, so you forced yourself to dramatize your feelings, romanticize them, the way you always did. “Is it time for me to give up on my dreams? Am I destined to be single forever? Will the closest I get to a wedding be in the form of attending yours as a bridesmaid?”

“Don’t be pessimistic,” she said, meaning you had been successful. “There’s always Aiku. He seems like he’d take anything on legs for a date or two.”

Aiku was standing next to Otoya, which completely detracted from his handsome face, and the two of them were flirting with a pair of girls, which completely detracted from his kind personality. He was exactly the kind of guy you had been told to avoid for as long as you could remember, and you exchanged looks with your best friend.

“I’d rather die alone,” you said, only half in jest. 

“That kind of relationship wouldn’t last,” she affirmed. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Tabito if he can introduce you to Barou. He’s likely your best bet at this point.”

“You may be right about that,” you said, following after her as she made her way to where Karasu, Barou, and the others were sitting, vowing that you would do everything in your power to make it work out this time. Maybe Reo was lost cause, and maybe Nagi and Isagi were, too, but Barou couldn’t be. He couldn’t be. 

All you had to do was avoid Otoya, and given the size of the bowling alley, that wouldn’t be too difficult. Yes, you could do that, and then—

“You’re the girls from the edits!”

You stopped in your tracks as someone tapped you on the shoulder, her eyes sparkling as she looked at you with her hands clasped together.

“Yeah, we are,” your best friend said in response to the other girl, who was the one that had spoken. You chanced a glance at Aiku and Otoya, who both looked more than a little angry that you had accidentally interrupted their attempts at getting dates, and then a pit opened up in your stomach as the second half of that duo registered in your mind. Otoya. You had somehow happened upon the very person you had sworn, not even a few seconds ago, to avoid like the plague, lest you embarrass yourself in front of Barou, too.

“No way!” the girl in front of you said. “You and your boyfriend are my sister and her boyfriend’s profile pictures!”

At first, you thought she must be talking to your best friend, but when she kept her attention on you, you bit your lower lip, trying to discern what she meant.

“Boyfriend?” you said unsurely. “I’m single, though?”

Single against your will, of course, but nevertheless single, which was why you were so puzzled.

“The guy you gave the middle finger to at the Blue Lock vs U-20 match! Aren’t you two dating?” she said.

“No!” you and Otoya said at the same time, understanding crashing over you like a tidal wave. When you noticed that he, too, had denied it, and rather vehemently at that, you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Wait, I didn’t recognize you because of the hat, but you’re the confused player that she flipped off!” the girl said to him. “Can we get a picture of the two of you together? We’re guaranteed to go viral if we can post something like that!”

“Oh, boy,” your best friend said. “Aiku, you seem like a nice guy, so I’m going to advise you to run right about now.”

“What?” he said.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” she said before dashing off, right as you finished processing the girl’s request.

“You…want me to take a picture…with him?” you said.

“The sentiment is mutual,” Otoya said.

“Yes, please!” the girl said. 

“But why?” you said, looking over your shoulder towards where Barou was standing and yelling at Nagi. He took no note of you, but who knew how long that would last? How long would it take before he saw you doing something stupid, as you were apparently prone to doing when you were around Otoya? 

“Just be quick,” Otoya said, standing stiffly beside you and plastering a smile on his face. Out of the corner of his mouth, he muttered to you, “Come on, let’s get this over with. They’ll make a big deal out of it if we don’t.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you said through your teeth, pretending to grin as the girl took out her phone and began to take photos of you, cooing all the while. “You’re just going along with it because you want her.”

“So what?” he said.

“Could the two of you get closer?” she said. “It doesn’t even look like you like each other.”

“Yeah, normally when people flip each other off, that’s the reason,” you said as Otoya wrapped an arm around your shoulders. It was heavy and warm, and to boot, he smelled pleasantly sweet, not like grass at all. You couldn’t explain it, but for some reason, that was the most upsetting news you had ever received, so you wiggled out of his embrace, stepping on his foot for good measure. “Ugh, get off of me!”

“What is your problem?” he said.

“You better stay a minimum of two bodies away from me at all times, you contagious little spore! I don’t want to be infected with the green hair disease!” you snapped. 

“There’s so many things wrong with what you just said, I’m not sure where I should begin,” he said. “For one, I may have been a horrible student, but even I know that hair color isn’t contagious!”

“Oh, you didn’t need to mention that you were a horrible student, it’s more than clear!” you said, aware even as you said it that you were doing it again. What was it about him, that you were driven to such irrationality? What was it about Otoya that made you act this way, and why couldn’t you stop? Whatever it was, it only made you hate him more. 

“As clear as your inability to get a boyfriend?” he said. “Because that’s pretty clear.”

“Uh, I think we have enough pictures,” the girl said nervously, although she went ignored by you and Otoya alike.

“Seriously?” you said. “Well, you—!”

“Alright, guys, enough causing a scene,” a soft voice said, and then there were warm hands clasping your shoulders. “Come on…Y/N, was it? Barou’s making me get drinks for everyone before I leave, so help me carry them back. Otoya, Yukimiya’s looking for you. I think he has to ask you something.”

“Ah, sure, Isagi,” Otoya said, padding over to where the others were sitting and attempting to school their expressions into masks of indifference from the varying degrees of shock they had been twisted into. Isagi waited for him to be seated before steering your around the corner, and you were too astonished to protest as you got into the soda line.

“You’re a funny person,” Isagi said as you waited in the queue. “I can’t believe how much you detest Otoya. It’s almost out of the realms of probability. Did you guys date before or something?”

“Don’t flatter him,” you said, albeit weakly, your head spinning at how carried away you had gotten. “He’d never be so fortunate.”

“Hm,” Isagi said. “So it’s just a commonplace dislike.”

“Pretty much,” you said. 

“Maybe a little more than commonplace,” he added with a wry smirk. “I don’t think that a typical enmity leads to a shouting match in a bowling alley.”

“Were we shouting?” you said.

“Otoya’s pretty quiet, so for him, yeah, I’d say it was,” Isagi said. “You know, it’s kind of incredible that you’re able to rile him up like that.”

“Why is that?” you said.

“We like to joke that Otoya’s face is made of stone,” Isagi mused. “Not in the way that Rin’s is, because that’s an entirely different scenario, but he’s just so unflappable that it’s rare to see him as anything but straight-faced. He’s the go-with-the-flow type, and he doesn’t care enough about anything to ever raise his voice. The fact that you make him mad is really something.”

“My secret talent,” you said, pretending to chuckle. “Pissing Otoya off almost as much as he pisses me off. It’s only fair; I mean, he keeps ruining things for me, so the least he can do is be bothered for it in return.”

Miraculously, Isagi didn’t question what you meant by that. He only nodded, reading off the names of the drinks Barou had written for him in a list and handing them to you, telling you to hang in there and then slipping out of the alley before you could ask him what you were supposed to be hanging in there for.

“Isagi’s right,” Karasu said the next day, after you had recounted the events in the bowling alley. Using his straw to stir the leftovers of your best friend’s milkshake, he took a contemplative sip. “Otoya really isn’t the kind of person who gets upset at anything, so it’s out of the ordinary for him to actually be mad at you.”

“I always knew you were special,” your best friend joked, biting off the end of a French fry. The two of them were sitting across from you at a restaurant near your aunt’s apartment, listening to your version of the argument you had had with Otoya and the mysterious words Isagi had left you with.

“I couldn’t tell you why, though,” Karasu said. 

“Aren’t you guys best friends?” you said.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve known him for years or anything. Plus, I avoid talking about stuff like that with him. The more I learn about his habits with girls, the lower my opinion of him falls, so I try not to think about it, for the sake of our friendship and all,” Karasu said.

“Why’re you friends with him in the first place, then?” your best friend said.

“Believe it or not, he’s one of the saner people in Blue Lock. They were all being nice to you yesterday, but rest assured, they’re completely different on the field,” Karasu said. 

“In a bad way?” you said.

“Majorly,” he said. “Speaking of which, I heard that you’re into Isagi and Barou?”

“Don’t forget Nagi and Reo,” your best friend added. Thankfully, Karasu didn’t tease you for the diverse set of options, only considering it carefully.

“You can give up on Nagi and Isagi. Not your fault, but they’re, uh…weird?” Karasu said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said.

“Let’s just say that neither of them are the type that I’d want anyone I know dating,” he said. “Nagi’s cute and all, but unless he really loves you, you’d end up being more of a mother than a girlfriend.”

“Automatic no,” your best friend. “What about Isagi? What’s wrong with him?”

“What isn’t wrong with him?” Karasu said rhetorically. When neither of you laughed, he pouted. “Never mind. Look, just trust me on that one.”

“That’s not an issue, though! Reo and Barou were her favorites to begin with,” your best friend said.

“You can’t really go wrong with either of them. Barou’s a major ass to play with, but he’s chill otherwise, I think,” Karasu said. His clinical analysis of your prospects was, in a way, comforting — he, at least, didn’t think you were entirely doomed. And wasn’t analysis his whole thing, anyways? So he was probably onto something here.

“Is there one that would be better than the other, though?” you said.

“Er, given recent events, maybe Barou might be a bit more of a blank slate. So to speak,” Karasu said. He didn’t mention Otoya, but all three of you knew that that was who he was referring to. You wondered if there’d ever be a time when you didn’t think of him so readily, when his name wasn’t linked with yours so inextricably, the way it was online, where the photos of you two together were already making the rounds.

“Barou’s a great choice!” your best friend said encouragingly. “He can probably carry you with one arm, remember?”

“Is that what you came to my game to talk about? You suck,” Karasu said, tsk’ing at your best friend. “But yes, as someone who’s had to train with Barou, he definitely could.”

“Wow,” you said.

“That’s what you said when you first saw him,” your best friend pointed out. “‘Wow.’ It’s basically your love language. Okay, Tabito! That’s settled, then. We’ll get Y/N and Barou to have a date whenever you’re on your next break from Blue Lock!”

“Don’t we have to ask Barou first?” you said.

“He’ll say yes, don’t worry,” Karasu said. “He’s not actually that popular. If he doesn’t, I’ll find someone else for you, don’t worry.”

“Someone good,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “Whoever it is, I’ll probably have to go on double dates with them, so trust me, I’ll be picky.”

“Thanks,” you said, because Karasu actually was the persnickety type, so if he was promising it, then it would happen in that way.

The rest of the break flew by. In an effort to avoid third-wheeling your best friend and Karasu, you took to exploring Tokyo by yourself, sitting in cafes and catching up on your winter homework, studying for exams while sipping on tea in a window seat. Maybe it was a little lonely, but you liked it, and if anything, you were productive, which you couldn’t always say you were.

Before you knew it, you and your best friend were packing up to go home. As much as you had enjoyed your vacation and the time off from school, you were glad to be going back to normalcy — everything about the trip, especially the day you had spent with the Blue Lock boys, was more like a fever dream in hindsight. The only things reminding you that it was real were the stuffed panda sitting amongst the nest of pillows in your bed and the occasional comments from your classmates, who all found it as hard to believe as you did that you were some kind of internet micro-celebrity.

“You’re the last person I would’ve expected to become famous by accident,” one of Karasu’s teammates from the high school club told you, the first day you were back at school. Even though Karasu himself was gone, his teammates and friends still sat with you and your best friend’s group. You all had amalgamated into a larger collective at some point, and even though you weren’t particularly close with any of them, you’d still count them as more than acquaintances.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said.

“Look, all I’m saying is her, I get,” he said, pointing at your best friend. “But you’ve always been way happier just hanging out in the background and letting other people be the center of attention.”

“Maybe I want to be the center of attention every now and then,” you said placidly, without a hint of sharpness. 

“You? No way,” he said, guffawing as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “That was funny, Y/N.”

“Ha, ha,” you said. “Anyways, like you said, it was by accident. Most of the blame can be assigned to that squeezed-out tube of toothpaste, Otoya.”

“Are you talking about Otoya?” another one of your friends said with a squeal, leaning away from your best friend and fluttering her eyelashes at you. “Y/N, you’re insanely lucky. He’s so cute.”

“Seriously?” you said. “You watched the entire game and decided that he was the one? You need your eyes checked if that’s the case.”

“He’s really good-looking!” she insisted. “If you don’t want him, I’ll gladly take him.”

“He’s all yours,” you said. “And don’t ever suggest I might want him again.”

It was a couple of months later that your best friend told you the Blue Lock boys were going on break again, and that this time, unlike the last, you had a confirmed reason to go along with her to meet Karasu — Shoei Barou had agreed to take you out for a date.

“There’s no way!” you said, holding your phone in between your ear and your shoulder as you threw as many clothes as you could fit into your small suitcase. “I mean, seriously, how did Karasu convince him?”

“He didn’t have to try very hard,” your best friend said. “It’s like he mentioned: Barou’s not actually that popular. I mean, after the Neo-Egoist League, yeah, he has a lot of fans, but back when he was in high school, he didn’t have too many friends, so as soon as Karasu brought it up, he was alright with it.”

“That makes sense,” you said, butterflies beating frantic wings into your intestines as you wrapped a pair of shoes in plastic and tucked them into your bag’s front pocket. “Tell Karasu I said thank you.”

“You can thank him by being normal at your dinner with Barou,” she said.

“Wait!” you said. “What am I even supposed to do when I’m on the date?”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Like, what do I talk about? What do I order? What do I do with my hands while I’m sitting there? How long should I hold eye contact? Actually, should I even be holding eye contact in the first place?” you said.

“First of all, you need to relax. Especially for a first date, you’re just trying to get to know him, so think about it like hanging out with a friend and go from there. If the two of you get along, then things will flow naturally and you won’t have to think about all of this stuff,” she said.

“And if we don’t?” you said. She didn’t answer, and after a second, you snorted. “Okay, sorry, dumb question.”

“Very much so. If you don’t get along, then it’s no big deal. We’ll find someone else and work from there, but first, do me a favor: don’t go into things with any expectations, because one thing I can say for certain is that absolutely nothing will go the way you want it to — for better or for worse,” she said.

“That makes me feel worse than I did when I called you,” you said.

“I know, but it’s the truth. Like I said, it’s not always a bad thing. In fact, it’s usually good; life has a funny way of working itself out, in my experience, but that means you have to trust that whatever’s happening to you is happening for a reason,” she said.

“What if it’s hard, though? And what if the things that are happening are terrible?” you said.

“Sometimes they are,” she said thoughtfully. “But you have to get through those types of situations, too, or else you’ll never get to the good part.”

Her final exam had been rescheduled, so she would be joining you and the others in the city a couple of days later than originally anticipated, meaning that you would have to get ready and go on your date without her helping you through it. She had apologized countless times, and Karasu had even offered to ask Barou if he was willing to change your plans, but you had assured both that it was alright, even if you were panicking internally. You wanted her to do well on her test, and you didn’t want to be too much of a pain to Barou, for fear that he would give up on you entirely instead of just switching the day of the reservation.

The restaurant was fancier than you had expected, and you tugged at your sleeves, adjusting your shirt, even though nothing was wrong with it. Averting your eyes from the hostess who led you back to the table where Barou was already waiting, you slid into your chair and grabbed a menu to hide your face behind.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you said, even though it was 7:00 exactly, which was when Karasu had told you the reservation was for.

“It’s okay,” Barou said. “I ordered water for us both. I hope that’s alright.”

“Perfectly fine,” you said. “Have you been here before?”

“No, but it has high ratings online, and it’s close to the area where Karasu said you’re staying, so I thought it was a safe bet,” he said. Nothing about his voice nor yours was natural, and after that, the two of you fell silent entirely. You obsessively read and reread the menu, although you had decided a while back what you wanted to order, and Barou picked at invisible bits of skin on his nails, his lips pursed all the while. 

For years and years, you had dreamt of what your first date would be like. You had spent so long waiting to find the perfect person, the perfect guy to be your boyfriend, and now here he was, sitting right across from you, and yet neither of you could muster up a single word to say to each other.

Even the waitress seemed weirded out when she came to drop off your waters and ask what you wanted to eat. You both started to speak at the same time, stopping and looking at each other unsurely before Barou motioned for you to go first. Once you were done, the waitress repeated your orders with a hint of incredulity. You were sure that, as soon as she got to the kitchen, she’d launch into a story about the strange couple at the table in the corner that refused to talk to one another, tittering with amusement at the bizarreness of it all. It was what you would do, if you were in her place.

“We’ve been having good weather lately,” you said when the quiet became too unbearable. “The winter was so cold, but it’s better now.”

“I’ve been inside the facility,” Barou reminded you. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” you said. “Right.”

“It is lovely out, though,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said. “Warm.”

“Exactly,” he said, and then neither of you continued with the pitiful attempt at conversation, both waiting for the other to do something until the waitress returned with your food and you were blissfully given an excuse to keep your mouth shut. 

You ate as quickly as you could, blotting at your lips with a napkin periodically and handling your fork and knife without much finesse. Barou was the opposite, cutting his food up into meticulous pieces and taking small bites, chewing each carefully and thoroughly before swallowing. You were almost fascinated by the delicacy, which was so unlike everything you had expected from him that you couldn’t reconcile the version of him that you thought you knew and the one you were presented with.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom really quickly,” you said when you were finished with your meal and Barou was about three-quarters of the way through. He nodded, clearly relieved — at this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just wanted to eat his food in peace, without your fumbling presence bringing down his mood.

The bathroom was down a hallway, with the women’s room to the right and the men’s directly across from it. You didn’t actually have to use it, but you just wanted some time away from the oppressive, hefty awkwardness that was your date, so you stood in front of a well-lit mirror and fiddled with your appearance, fixing minor imperfections that nobody else would notice but served as a way for you to waste time.

When you could find nothing else to mess with, you pulled out your phone and texted your best friend a sad face. You’d explain it to her later, when she was finally here, but for now, that would have to be enough to sum up your night.

Washing your hands to rinse off the stickiness that being in a public bathroom always made you imagine, you dried them before using your shoulder to open the door, your phone in your hands as you saw your best friend had already responded with a question mark and a ‘do you want to talk about it’.

You were just about to reply to her that you would, but your inattention led you to running face-first into someone as they exited the men’s bathroom. Your phone slipped from your hands, bouncing onto the plush carpet and landing right at the feet of the person you had crashed into; you thought that you might as well die from shame instead of stooping over to retrieve it, because that really seemed like the more palatable path at the moment.

“I am so sorry!” you said, squatting to grab your phone, because dying wasn’t really an option and it would be worse if you just stood there.

“No worries,” he said, already scooping it up and extending his hand towards you before freezing, your phone still dangling in his grasp. “Hold on a second. Y/N?”

Your jaw dropped as you locked eyes with Otoya, who was, for some reason, standing across from you in the dim corridor, your phone in his hands and his eyebrows raised. A million questions crossed your mind just then: what was he doing here? Why now? Was he with someone, and if so, who? But one was forefront, and before you could stop yourself, you were grabbing onto his shoulders, your fingertips digging into the fabric of his white shirt, wrinkling it into small divots.

“You,” you said. “Why are you always around when things go wrong?”

“What?” he said, the way he always said everything: detached, airy, and vaguely condescending. “I don’t even know what problems you’re having right now, so how do they have anything to do with me?”

“It’s not — you don’t cause them!” you said. “You’re just…always there for them. You know how some people have a good luck charm?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Well, you’re my bad luck charm! You cause me difficulties without even trying, and the worst part is that I can’t even do anything about it, because you’re always there. You keep appearing! Why the hell are you even here in the first place?” you said, and then tears were pricking at your eyes, because logically, you knew Otoya was right. He had nothing to do with the fact that Barou didn’t like you, that was your fault and your fault alone, but wasn’t it easier to blame him? He was always there. He was always easier to point a finger at than yourself.

“I’m having dinner with my sister,” he said, slowly and mockingly, like you were a small child. “What about you, hm? Eating alone?”

“I—”

“Otoya?”

Before you could explain anything, you were cut off by a perplexed Barou, who was looking at you and Otoya, obviously lost by what, exactly, he was faced with. Only a second later, you understood that the position you were in was the slightest bit compromising, so you dropped your hands from his shoulders, taking a step back and brushing yourself off hastily.

“Barou?” Otoya said. “What are you doing here? Is this some kind of reunion that I’ve stumbled on? Where are the others?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Barou said.

“We’re on a date, you overgrown caterpillar,” you muttered under your breath. “Now can you fuck off?”

“A date?” he said. When Barou didn’t deny it, he chuckled. “Yikes, I’m sorry for interrupting, then — although, I wouldn’t have, if someone was watching where they were going when they were leaving the bathroom.”

“I’m sure your sister is waiting for you, so how about you get back to her and leave us alone?” you said, your smile sickly sweet. “And give me my phone back.”

“Have fun, you two,” Otoya said, dropping it into your waiting palm. “Y/N, try not to drive Barou insane, yeah? We need him to play in the U-20 World Cup.”

“Go play with box dye or whatever it is you do in your free time,” you said. “Come on, Barou. Let’s go pay and get out of here.”

“I already did,” he said. “I was just coming over to use the bathroom myself while I waited for you to come back.”

“Ah,” you said as you made your way to the door. “How much was it? I don’t mind giving you my half.”

“Forget about it,” he said. “I’m the one who asked you on a date, technically, so I’m the one who should pay.”

“Not like I was much of a date,” you said.

“Not like I was much of one, either,” he countered. “I doubt we said a total of fifty words to each other combined.”

“I’m not good at talking to people,” you said. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“You certainly didn’t have any problems talking with Otoya,” he said.

“What?” you said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean,” he said. “How am I supposed to know? It’s just an observation. I’m not mad about it or anything, so don’t take it the wrong way.”

“You’re the one who said it, so I feel like if anyone were to know, it’d be you,” you said. “But anyways, whatever you’re thinking, it’s incorrect. Simply put, Otoya’s an asshole. A major-league jerk. He’s annoying and rude and he always acts like he’s better than me, even though he isn’t, and he shows up at the worst moments just to cause problems for me, even unknowingly, and I’d be able to forgive him if it was just once, but it’s always! And you know what? He doesn’t ever apologize, either! He doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t even think he’s done anything wrong and he’s the worst, he’s totally the worst—”

Your indignant rant petered off when you saw that, to your horror, Barou was laughing. That was the most open you had seen him all night, and you were surprised to note that he looked different when he laughed. Kinder. Less severe. Like someone you might actually get along with, if you had met him without knowing who he was.

“That’s the most I’ve heard you say, maybe ever,” he elaborated. 

“So?” you said.

“So nothing,” he said. “I’m washing my hands of this. Thank you for coming to dinner with me, Y/N. I wish you the best.”

“You, too,” you said, recognizing when to stop pushing. Barou clearly had no interest in explaining further, and in truth he probably couldn’t — he was the sort that didn’t understand emotions and relationships and other such sensitivities particularly well, at least according to Karasu. “Thank you, as well. I…had a nice night.”

Barou snorted at this before waving and telling you you should stop lying to yourself so much. You weren’t sure why he thought you were in the business of lying to yourself frequently, but he seemed convinced of it, which meant there was a chance you really were.

Your best friend and Karasu were sympathetic when they heard of how your date went, although when you mentioned Otoya, both of them exchanged looks that you could not decipher. You could not tease the meaning out of them, either, so you were left frustratingly in the dark, with only their assurances that it wasn’t anything bad.

After the disaster with Barou, you decided to swear off of dating until further notice. You doubted that there was anyone who would even want to date you, anyways, so it wasn’t a particularly difficult thing to do, and although you still felt envy stinging deep within you whenever you saw the relationships your friends were all building, you managed to choke it down far enough that you could pretend it wasn’t there.

“Y/N!” your mother shouted at you. It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you were lounging on the couch in your pajamas, watching a romance movie while eating your breakfast, since you had nothing better to do with your time. “Can you get the mail, please?”

“Sure!” you shouted back. She was expecting a check for some event she had worked at, so she had grown quite preoccupied with ensuring one of you got the mail as soon as it was delivered, and you supposed today was your turn.

Shoving your feet in a pair of slippers, you plodded down to the end of the driveway, opening the mailbox and rifling through the letters in the box in search of anything of note. For the most part, it was advertisements and newspapers, but at the very bottom of the pile, you noticed a cream envelope addressed to you.

“Was my check there?” your mother said as you returned to the house, dumping the stack of papers onto the counter and retrieving a letter-opener from the drawer it stayed in.

“Nope,” you said. “But this was.”

“What is that?” she said.

“No idea, but it says it’s for me,” you said, slicing the envelope open and unfolding its contents before frowning. “Oh.”

“What does that mean?” she said. You slid the letter across the counter to her.

“It’s an invite from the JFU,” you said. “To some ‘friends and family of Blue Lock’ gala thingie. I don’t know how I qualify as a friend or family of Blue Lock, though…”

“Maybe because you went to their first game, back against the U-20s?” your mother suggested. “They might’ve just invited everyone with seats in the Blue Lock section, given how small it was and how it was pretty much entirely family members. I doubt they were looking too closely at the names of the people they sent tickets to.”

“But that was almost two years ago, and I wasn’t there under my own name,” you said, before you immediately rolled your eyes at yourself. “Hold on. I think I know what’s happening here.”

Before she could question you further, you ran upstairs, clicking on your best friend’s contact and hitting the green call button next to her name. She picked up on the first ring, and she didn’t even wait for you to speak before bursting into laughter.

“Bitch,” you said. “Why’d you invite me to that shit?”

“I just explained to the JFU how I managed to attend a game twice,” she said innocently, although her continued laughter didn’t support her case much.

“There’s no way I’m going,” you said. “I think Blue Lock is bad for my health, or at least my pride.”

“I already told Karasu you would, and he told the others, who are all super excited to see you again!” she said.

“No, they’re not,” you said.

“Okay, well, maybe not all of them, but Tokimitsu, Aryu, Yukimiya, and Chigiri are,” she said.

“Really?” you said. “Oh. I guess if Karasu already told them I’d come, then it’ll be disappointing if I don’t.”

“Something like that, yes,” she said.

“But you still suck,” you said. “And I’m mad about it.”

“Mhm, whatever you say,” she said. “We can go shopping for clothes after lunch, if you want.”

“Fine,” you said. “I guess if you insist.”

“Yay!”

You had been expecting to have to tag along with your best friend and Karasu during the gala, given that you didn’t have a date nor any interest in procuring one, but to your surprise, none other than Aryu offered to accompany you.

“It’s just as friends, of course,” your best friend assured you as you opened yet another box of shoes, holding one against the dress you had bought and then putting it back without even trying it on when you found it didn’t quite match. “Aryu says he refuses to attend the gala with someone who doesn’t match his levels of…glam?”

“And he thinks I do?” you said.

“You have a simple, understated glam to you,” she said. “Direct quote, by the way. I have no idea what he meant, so don’t shoot the messenger.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment?” you said. She shrugged.

“Nobody knows what he’s talking about half of the time,” she said. “But for what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing simple about your ‘glam.’”

“Thanks,” you said. “I appreciate it. Or, do I?”

“It’s a good thing,” she assured you, presenting you with a new box of shoes. “Try these on. They’ll go perfectly with the dress you got.”

“Woah,” you said when her words proved to be correct. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m pretty good at knowing what you need,” she said, patting you on the shoulder, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it seemed to you that in that instant, she was talking about more than shoes.

The flash of cameras blinded you as Aryu helped you out of the sparkling white car, his fingers cold against your wrist, at odds with the warmth in his grin. You fought back the urge to squeeze your eyes closed, knowing that you’d look entirely stupid in the press coverage of the event if your lids were screwed shut, and instead you did your best to maintain a serene expression, your mouth curved at the edges and your brow free of creases. Aryu offered you his arm, and you took it without a second thought, although you did giggle when he winked at you so suggestively it could not be anything but a joke.

“Is this not the most glam moment of your life?” he said, leading you up the stairs of the hotel where the gala was being held. You shook your head in amusement, gripping his forearm as hard as you could to ensure you did not trip over the velvety carpet.

“I still don’t know what you mean by that,” you said.

“It’s a functional word,” he mused, pausing so that you could pose for pictures. You followed his lead for the most part, content with being a mere accessory to his splendor, his charming ease with the media. “Means whatever your heart says it means.”

“Then yes,” you said. “I’d say this is the most glam moment of my life.”

“Miss L/N! Miss L/N, a moment please!”

A microphone was shoved in your face before you knew what was happening, and you glanced at Aryu unsurely, wondering why you had been singled out amidst all of the players and their dates, many of whom were famous models, singers, and actresses. He shrugged at you, clearly as confused as you were, and then he knocked the microphone a little further away, so that it wasn’t all but up your nose.

“Uh, yes?” you said, playing with your fingers as you smiled at the interviewer. He was a middle-aged man, his hair grey at his temples, and his grin reminded you of a wide-mouthed whale.

“You’re here with Jyubei Aryu, correct?” he said.

“I am,” you said, even though you thought it should’ve been obvious you were.

“Who’s next on your list, then?” he said. 

“What?” you said. The man leaned closer to you, holding the microphone to his lips, which were fat and trembling like slugs in repose.

“Which player will you toy with next?” he said.

“I’m not — toy with?” you sputtered, and it was only Aryu’s firm presence on your left which kept you from wavering. “What the hell are you—?”

“Will that be all, or do you have any actual questions to ask her?” Aryu said, cutting you off before you could say something terribly uncouth.

“Everyone is wondering!” the man defended, knuckles reddening around the microphone. “What are your thoughts, Aryu, sir? Are you aware of…it?”

“Of what? This ridiculous exchange?” Aryu said. “Unfortunately, I am, and furthermore, I’d like for it to be over.”

“No, the love affair between your date, Y/N L/N, and your own teammate — Eita Otoya!” he exclaimed.

“That’s none of my concern. Miss L/N agreed to come with me as a friend, so who she chooses to love is her business alone,” he said.

“Otoya?” you said. “You — I — there is no love affair!”

“There he is now,” the interviewer said with a smirk, dipped in oil and drowned in grease, lathered with satisfaction at your indignation. “You know, it seems to me like he’d disagree with that, Miss L/N.”

You shifted slightly, looking over your shoulder at the driveway, where a black car was driving off, its passenger already exited. Of course, there was your ghost, your familiar bad-luck charm, the one you could never escape from in any way that mattered, no matter how hard the both of you tried: Otoya, his hands in his pockets, his tie a pale green, the same pear shade as his eyes, which, uncomfortably and heavily, were trained on you.

Although he was at the bottom of the staircase and you were already almost at the top, you could see the way his expression was dancing, something no doubt playing at the tip of his tongue, something you wagered would be purposefully designed to infuriate you. You frowned at him, wishing he were closer, wishing he were at your side, even, so that you could tell him that he looked terrible, like a twig of mint sprung to life, that his hair was too messy for such an important event, falling haphazardly onto his pale forehead, and that he should’ve worn a darker tie, to match better with his suit.

“Come along, Y/N,” Aryu murmured, tugging you forwards and away from the interviewer, stealing your attention from Otoya. “Let’s go inside. It’s starting to rain.”

“Ah, right,” you said, shaking your head to clear it, allowing him to lead you into the hotel lobby, towards the hall where red roses bloomed in crystal vases upon the centers of the many white-draped tables. “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“It’s supposed to stop in an hour or two. I’m sure it’ll be over by the time we’re leaving,” he said. “Which table are we, again?”

“8,” you said without even pulling your tickets out. You had memorized them two nights ago, front and back, in a fit of nerves. This was your first time at anything more fancy than your high school graduation; you had no idea what to expect, and, considering how things tended to go for you, you had randomly become convinced that it would turn out awful and you might as well skip the event entirely. You had woken up the next morning and felt marginally better, but the damage had been done and the images of the tickets were engraved into your mind.

“Wonderful,” Aryu said as you reached your table. “This is a nice location, so I’m pleased.”

“Y/N? Oh my goodness, hi!”

Before you could sit down, you were being tackled by a red blur. You grunted as you caught Koyuki Chigiri’s body in your arms, wrapping them around her waist subconsciously. She crushed you with more force than she should’ve been able to exert, given her slight frame, and you tucked your chin on her shoulder, glad for the familiar face.

“Hi, Koyuki. Are you sitting here, too?” you said when she finally let you go, just as you were about to run out of air. She nodded at you eagerly, darting back to her seat, across from the chair Aryu had pulled out for you.

“Yup, I am! Hyoma asked me to come along with him, since he didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding an actual date and I was already invited, but I was worried I wouldn’t know anyone else and might have to spend the entire event clinging to my little brother’s sleeve,” she said.

“Nothing of the sort, don’t worry,” you said, sitting and hanging your purse on the back of your chair. “Where is Hyoma?”

“He went to see what non-alcoholic drinks they’re serving at the bar,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon!”

“He’s really been doing well this season,” you said. “Not that I keep up with soccer much, but I see highlights on social media and all. His team’s lucky to have him.”

“I’m just so pleased he’s enjoying himself again,” Koyuki said. “For a while, right after he tore his ACL, I thought he’d never enjoy soccer again. I watched him lose himself…it was the worst, because there wasn’t anything I could do about it, but I should’ve had more faith in him. He found himself again, all on his own.”

“Who did what?” This was Hyoma himself, returning with a flute of something gold and bubbly in his hand. “Oh, hey, Y/N, Aryu.”

“Hey,” you said. “What’ve you got there?”

“Sparkling apple cider,” he said with a winsome grin. “It looks like champagne, though, doesn’t it? Makes me feel a little less left out.”

“I’m sure it tastes better than anything else you might find at that bar,” you assured him.

“I’m in full agreement,” Aryu said. “In fact, I might get the same for myself. Would you like anything, Y/N?”

“You can pick,” you said. “I trust your judgement better than my own in regards to these things.”

“I’ll do my best to procure a drink worthy of you,” he said, his hair swishing behind him as he strolled in the direction Hyoma had just come from.

“What were you guys talking about?” Hyoma said once it was just the three of you.

“Nothing important. Just how excited we are to see each other again,” Koyuki said.

“And how you’re becoming quite the star recently,” you said.

“Oh,” he said, blushing and sinking in his seat a bit. “Thank you.”

“Sure, it’s only the truth,” you said.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” a rambunctious voice said, and then Karasu was plopping in the seat beside Hyoma, socking him in the arm. “What’s got little Chigiri all embarrassed?”

“Nothing, you noisy excuse for a crow,” Hyoma said, batting Karasu away half-heartedly.

“Sorry we’re late,” your best friend, sitting beside you and unfolding her napkin. “Someone was more concerned with how their hair looked than timeliness and other such factors.”

“By someone, do you mean yourself?” Karasu challenged before making his voice comically high-pitched to mock her. “Oh, Tabito, my purse doesn’t match my shoes! Oh, Tabito, I need to wear a bracelet with this or my arm will be too bare! Oh, Tabito—”

“Shut up,” she said. “Like I was saying, it was entirely his fault.”

“Uh-huh,” Karasu said. “Whatever, we made it, so in the end it’s irrelevant who was at fault. Even if it was obviously you.”

“Aryu and I just got here a few minutes ago, so you’re not really that late. Doesn’t seem like you’re the last ones in, either, so don’t worry about it,” you said.

“Do either of you know who else is at our table?” Koyuki said. To your surprise, Karasu nodded; though, then again, he was the type who would be aware of something like that.

“It’s Aiku and his girlfriend-of-the-month,” he said.

“Who is it this time, another singer?” Hyoma said, rolling his eyes. Aiku was infamous for being a player with a different partner for every event he attended, and you supposed this one was no different.

“Apparently, she’s a lingerie model from Sweden,” Karasu said. “He told me they met while he was visiting his dad’s side of the family.”

“Damn,” Hyoma said. “Only Aiku.”

“Only Aiku,” Karasu echoed, shaking his head. Aiku’s habits were the butts of many a joke amongst the Blue Lock boys, or so you were told, and you couldn’t blame them — everything about him teetered on the verge of insanity, just shy of utterly unbelievable, which was especially comedic given how grounded and down-to-earth he seemed to be at first glance.

“Did you hear Yukimiya proposed to his girlfriend?” Hyoma said, motioning towards where Yukimiya and his girlfriend were sitting a table with Nagi, Reo, a few others you didn’t recognize, and — you swallowed when you inadvertently made eye contact with Otoya, who was sitting on Reo’s left and spinning a spoon between his fingers, turning away before he could do something childish like stick his tongue out at you.

“Really?” Koyuki said. “Aren’t they a bit young for it?”

“He mentioned that he asked!” your best friend said. She had become friends with Yukimiya and his girlfriend somewhat by accident and shortly before she began dating Karasu, so it wasn’t a surprise that she was already informed about the news. “They’ve known each other since elementary school and have been dating since, like, junior high, so it’s not too strange.”

“He’s the kind of person who thinks through things before doing them, so it definitely wasn’t some half-baked, average decision,” Karasu said with a decisive nod that signaled the topic wasn’t up for discussion anymore.

“I’ll have to be sure to congratulate them at some point,” you said. The when Otoya’s not around was left unsaid, but given who was sitting at the table with you, you were pretty sure everyone — excepting maybe Hyoma — heard it.

“I’ll come with you when you do,” your best friend said. “I haven’t had the chance to say anything to them in person yet.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. “I wonder what’s taking Aryu so long…”

“Is he getting drinks for the two of you?” Karasu said. You nodded. “I was just about to head over there myself, so I can check on him, if you want.”

“Yes, please,” you said.

“Ooh, get something for me,” your best friend said. Karasu tapped her on the head as he got up; you shifted in your seat, tracing the patterns in the carpet with your eyes so that you weren’t faced with his gentleness to her any longer.

“Already planning on it, don’t worry,” he said. “Tell Aiku he’s a dick when he gets here. If he does.”

Not even thirty seconds had passed by when, like a storm, Aiku and his Swedish-lingerie-model girlfriend arrived, pausing in the doorway to luxuriate in the spotlight for a second before ambling over to your table. They were the kind of couple that drew everyone’s attention to them, tall and willowy and beautiful in a manner that suited one another exactly, handsomely and painstakingly crafted to be the center of attention.

“Hello, everybody,” Aiku said magnanimously. You exchanged looks with Koyuki, who looked just as amused as you felt.

“Hello, Aiku,” your best friend said. “My boyfriend thinks you’re a dick.”

“Takes one to know one,” Aiku said, unperturbed. “Where’s he off to?”

“Him and Aryu are at the bar, where I am sure you will soon be joining them,” she said. Aiku grinned at her, the kind of white, toothy grin that was most commonly seen in photoshopped magazine commercials.

“Am I that easily read? Yeah, I’ll head over there now. Want anything, babe?” he said.

“Just water,” his girlfriend said.

“As you wish,” he said, drawing a tiny snort out of Hyoma, who immediately disguised it with a cough, his hand covering his mouth as Aiku’s girlfriend gave him a quizzical look.

“Sorry,” Hyoma said. “I cough when it rains. I’m allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “It must be difficult.”

Hyoma coughed again, clearing his throat in what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Very.”

“Do you think they’ll have vegan food here?” she continued.��

“Uh,” Hyoma gave you a panicked look for some reason, mouthing ‘help’, but you could only shrug, both because you had no idea what was on the menu and because you, too, had no idea why she was focusing her attention entirely on him. “Maybe?”

“Back in Sweden, we…”

Leaning around Koyuki, she continued to talk to the bewildered Hyoma, leaving Koyuki to duck closer to the table and involve herself in conversation with you and your best friend. Eventually, the Chigiri siblings swapped seats so that Hyoma could be beside Aiku’s girlfriend-of-the-month, leaving Koyuki next to Karasu’s empty seat, making your discussion about who you thought would get engaged next much more comfortable.

“I think it’s going to be Reo,” your best friend said.

“Reo? Is he with someone, then?” you said. She clicked her tongue.

“Not that we know of, but listen, he’s totally the type to use his family’s insane connections to hide any potential relationships from the media,” she said. “For all we know, he’s already married.”

“That’s actually very true,” you said.

“I know for a fact that it won’t be Hyoma,” Koyuki said.

“Why not?” you said, gesturing towards where Hyoma was listening raptly to Aiku’s girlfriend as she described the process of getting ready for a runway show. “He seems popular and friendly, plus he’s very kind.”

“He’s never been in a relationship before, and given his track record, I don’t see him getting in one anytime soon. He’s simply uninterested,” she said. “He’ll get there eventually, but he definitely won’t be the next up.”

“What about you? Who do you think?” your best friend said.

“Karasu,” you said promptly.

“But — hey!” she said. “No way!”

“He’s the only one who’s actually dating someone publicly and isn’t Aiku,” you said. “I’m saying this as much by process of elimination as anything. Besides, I’ve been planning your wedding for years now, so you better be next.”

“She has a point,” Koyuki said. “Er, about the process of elimination part.”

“You guys are crazy,” your best friend said, though the smile threatening to cross her face revealed what she really thought of the prospect.

The boys returned with your drinks in hand a little later. Aryu set a glass filled with red wine down in front of you, and you took it, idly swishing it before taking a sip. You thought that you must seem quite refined with such a beverage, so although you wouldn’t have ordered it for yourself, you drank it without complaint, despite the ensuing bitterness coating your tongue.

Glass in hand, you leaned back in your seat, observing the proceedings as if through a window. Everyone else was so caught up in their own little words that they did not notice your silence — your best friend was talking quietly to Karasu, while Aryu and Aiku reminisced over their days as rookie players of the Italian club they had started their professional careers at. Koyuki was giggling as she texted somebody on her phone, and Aiku’s girlfriend was telling Hyoma how many rollers she required for a perfect blowout; simply put, they were all happy. Every one of them belonged, to someone else if not themselves, and even though you had declared to yourself that it didn’t matter to you anymore, that never again would you preoccupy yourself with something as foolish as dating, you could not help a lump from forming in the back of your throat, because it was a lie. It had always been a lie.

“I’m heading to the bathroom,” you said, your voice catching. Your best friend furrowed her brow at you.

“Do you want me to come?” she said.

“No, it’s okay,” you said. “Please. I’ll be right back.”

You fled without another word, stumbling over your feet in your haste, wine sloshing in the glass you still clutched in your fist as you walked with as much composure as you could until you were out of sight of the hall, whereupon your steps grew minced and desperate as you raced towards the door. The hotel’s heating was suddenly suffocating, and you were dimly aware of a wet stain spreading across your chest where the contents of your cup had spilled in your haste.

Why were you reacting like this? Why did you care so suddenly? Why did it matter? And why were you on the verge of crying? You had already had a chance, and you had squandered it. You could’ve been at Barou’s table, sitting alongside him and Hiori and Niko, your head resting against his shoulder when you were tired, his coat cascading over your back when you were cold. It was your own fault, and something you had come to terms with long ago, so why was it hitting you like this, all at once?

As Aryu had predicted, it was pouring rain outside, but you brushed the receptionist’s concerns aside, the hotel door slamming behind you as you made a beeline for a bench by one of the many azalea bushes blooming in front of the grand building. It was such a sad and lonely thing, that bench, the grey stone drenched, the lamp above it flickering unsteadily, and for some reason, that was enough for you to burst into tears, downing the rest of the wine you didn’t even like and then, in a fit of inspiration, throwing the glass onto the ground.

The base of it shattered first, followed by the stem and then the body, which burst into a million pieces like stars on the concrete, stained pinkish from your drink and dagger-sharp at the edges. Burying your face in your newly empty hands, you didn’t even try to wipe your tears away — they’d be replaced by fresh ones, as well as the rain, soon enough, so there was no point to it. There wasn’t much of a point to anything.

You shouldn’t have come. You should’ve been firmer with your best friend, should’ve told her you had no interest in coming to this stupid event with stupid Blue Lock, where everyone else had a place but you didn’t, where you would always be an outsider who stuck out like a sapling in snow, where you would always be a second consideration, left to cry in the rain alone before having to return like nothing had ever happened.

“Hey.” Someone sat at the opposite side of the bench with a huff. “You look like serious shit, Y/N.”

“Otoya,” you said, for you would know his voice anywhere, and it was so unexpected that it temporarily broke you out of your spiral. “Thanks a bunch.”

“The weather’s awful,” he said. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I could say the same to you,” you said, the heels of your palms digging into your eye sockets.

“Trust me, it’s not like I want to be,” he said.

“Then go inside,” you said, biting on your lower lip so hard blood swelled in your mouth, salty and acrid. “And stay away from me. For good this time, preferably.”

“I would if I thought it would do anything,” he admitted. “But it’s kind of pointless, right? You’ll still manifest out of thin air somehow, and you’ll probably blame me for something I didn’t even do while you’re at it.”

“Didn’t do? Don’t make me laugh,” you said. 

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I messed up a movie for you once. Two years ago. Capital crime.”

“It’s not just the movie,” you said. “It’s everything.”

“Everything?” he said.

“It’s you!” you said, dropping your hands into your lap and tilting your head towards the sky. The stars were hidden behind the blanket of grey clouds, but if you squinted hard enough, you could still see the moon, as full and benevolent as a pearl. “It’s you. Everything about you, I can’t stand it. You don’t care about anyone or anything, you just barge into people’s lives and ruin them. You make rocks look smart, and you have horrible taste in ties; you have the worst hair I’ve ever seen on a man — which is saying something, considering I’ve met Karasu — and you’re as condescending as anything, which is also saying something, because what do you have to be condescending about?”

Otoya was quiet, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel his eyes burning holes through you. You rubbed the back of your hand against your face in a futile attempt to pretend like nothing mattered, like this was a routine situation, like he hadn’t found you crying on a solitary bench when you should’ve been with everyone else.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be Barou’s girlfriend,” you continued, your voice weak, pathetic. “Or Reo’s. Or someone else’s entirely. I’d be inside of that party, sitting with the others, and I’d matter to someone. Maybe I don’t have to be the center of attention all of the time, maybe I’m not nearly that pretty or interesting, but at least — at least one person, I would’ve had at least one person…” 

“What are you talking about?” he said.

“You’re always there,” you said. “On the field. At the coffee shop. By the bathrooms. Near the entrance. In the back of my mind. You’re there and I hate it and I hate you and I hate that any of this even concerns me, because why should it? I know who I am. I know the truth.”

“Which is?” he said.

“I can try as hard as I like, but I’ll never be my best friend,” you said. “She’s the one everybody loves. She’s the one with the perfect boyfriend and the perfect life; if this were a television show, she’d be the favorite, the main lead, and I wouldn’t be anything more than the annoying side character who only gets fans out of pity and marries some random, nameless man that the writers make up so nobody wonders what happens to me by the end. I’m not supposed to be important. I keep trying, but I’m not, and every time I think it’s okay, I’m reminded of it and it hurts all over again.”

There was a rustling of fabric, and for a second you thought he had left, but then he was pressing something cold and smooth into your hands — a glass.

“It’s sparkling apple cider,” he said. “You should drink it.”

“Why’d you get this?” you said. “Don’t I seem like someone who would drink red wine?”

“Not really,” he said. “Are you?”

“No,” you said. “I wish I was, but I’m not.”

“It’s not the only drink in the world, so it’s not like you have to like it,” he said. “The others are good, too. I like this one the most, even if other people might not agree.”

The beverage was sweet in your mouth, and before you knew it, you had drained the entire thing, washing away the thickness of the wine and the salt of your tears in one fell swoop. 

“Why are you out here, anyways?” you said.

“I saw you leave and pointed it out to Reo, who told me I should check on you,” he said.

“Why you?” you said.

“Beats me,” he said. 

“You still did it, though,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t ask why. That beats me, too.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said. “It’s unimportant.”

The cars on the road in front of you rushed by without a care, the puddles on the asphalt streaked through with the colors of the passing vehicles, reflecting the white headlights and the shimmering streaks of oil lingering on their surfaces. 

Neither of you said anything for a while, only watching the traffic, which grew thinner and thinner as the minutes marched on. Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t grating; you thought you would’ve hated it, thought it would’ve been as awkward as it had been on that date with Barou, but it was nice. You didn’t mind it as much when it was him. You didn’t mind it at all, shockingly.

“Otoya,” you said. You couldn’t say how long it had been — both of you were utterly drenched, all of the way to the bone, but he hadn’t complained yet, nor had he made any moves to get up. You probably looked like a wreck, a rat drowned in a water-trough, and in the hotel there were toasts and wine and music and warmth, beautiful girls with beautiful dresses that’d do anything to talk with him for even a second, but still, without any fuss, he stayed with you.

“Hm?” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

He took the empty glass from your hand, setting it carefully on the ground by his feet, and then he replaced it with something warm — his own hand, fingers lacing through your own, the pulse in his wrist beating against yours in tandem. You stiffened, taken aback, but no words came to your mind, no quick insult or sharp retort. You couldn’t muster anything, and neither could you pull away, so you stayed still, as still as possible, tucked against the armrest on your side of the bench, his palm pressed to yours the only proof that you weren’t alone anymore.

“People will come looking for you soon,” he said.

“Maybe not me, but you, yes,” you said.

“You’re not unimportant,” he said. “There’s people that care about you, too.”

“Do you?” you said, your face heating at the uncharacteristic brashness.

“Do I what?” he said. You exhaled.

“Never mind,” you said. You shouldn’t have expected anything from him. Only a few hours previously, you had been convinced he was the bane of your existence and you were his, so why should his feelings on the matter have changed? Why had yours?

“Come on,” he said. Before you knew what was happening, you were on your feet, and Otoya was looking at you so earnestly that your heart raced and your stomach dropped. “Let’s leave. This party is boring, anyways.”

“Leave? Where will we go, though?” you said. He considered it for a moment, and then, inexplicably, he grinned. You hadn’t seen him smile before, but it was sweet, the type of smile that lit up his entire face in a rare way, the type of smile that made you wonder why you had ever despised him in the first place.

“Well,” he said. “There’s a movie we could watch.”

Your eyes widened, and then you laughed. You laughed and laughed, because you couldn’t believe he had said that, and neither could you believe that you were really about to run away from the gala with him.

“You better not mess it up for me this time,” you said.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he said, and when he squeezed your hand, you thought that maybe there was one person in the world, just one, who paid attention to you. Who thought you were important. Who saw you for who you were. “But you of all people should know I can’t promise that I won’t.”

[sugurouge]

— my favourite pain : blade x f!reader

when i became the sun, i shone life into the man's heart

contains! — mdni: DARK CONTENT, smut, angst, toxic + unestablished relationship, jealousy, mentally unstable blade, minor hunter/prey, reader is being carried around, possessiveness, manhandling, physical abuse (strangulation & hair pulling), marking, irrational behaviour, praise, petnames (pretty girl), there's a backstory to explain certain reasons to their behaviour — 5k words

summary: a tale about blade's very own paradise he deemed himself undeserving of. his best intentions harboured rotten fruit, fuelling resentment that tore them apart. until weeks later, a mara-struck blade is out to finish what they've started.

You haven’t seen Blade in weeks, yet he remains plaguing your mind like an ever-looming presence—a forbidden fruit you crave more than you would ever dare admit.

At the same time, you’re also the traitor who called the Cloud Knights on him: it was a desperate, vengeful act born of being once more used for salvation, drained of all the kindness residing in your heart to help calm the hurricane in his mind.

For long, he had done the same thing—appearing uninvited, expecting you to welcome him back into his personal Garden of Eden: the tender warmth of your hold. Forcing you to pity a selfish man who robbed you of the chance to find lasting love when he claimed your heart. He made it clear he wanted nothing more than those fleeting encounters, never trespassing the line that would make you lovers rather than acquaintances.

But your heart wanted something different.

He never touched you indecently, never did what you craved for him to do—only held you in his embrace, lips ghosting along your neck and chest until the drumming of your pulse paled in comparison to the need between your thighs.

But nothing ever happened. Once morning came, Blade was gone, leaving only the icy gift of loneliness in his stead, until the Mara welled up again.

The abomination returned to your doorstep time and time again.

You ruminate about Blade as you pour your cup of tea, wondering if the Cloud Knights truly managed to imprison him again. Is he rotting in the Shackled Prison once more because of your pettiness? The only thing you’re certain of: you’d be the first person he’d kill if he ever escaped.

However, the gust of air kissing the back of your neck and creeping beneath your night robes tears you from those spiralling thoughts. It causes chills to creep down your spine as you cautiously glance over your shoulder, scanning the darkened room awaiting behind the comfort of your dimly lit kitchen.

You’ve grown accustomed to searching for said criminal in crowds, used to meeting his red eyes in places he should never set foot back in. But this is the first time the feeling of being watched greets you in your very home. Blade had always been polite enough to knock before. But back then, you hadn’t yet betrayed his trust either.

Trying to focus back on your tea seems like a good call, to finish the preparations and retreat to the safety of your bedroom—away from the eerie open spaces and dark corners until sunrise. If it wasn’t for your shaking form locking you in place. The stiffness in your shoulders deepens as the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a bead of cold sweat trickles down your spine.

You hear him—hear the skilled footsteps of a hunter stalking its prey, hear the scraping of his blade along the floor—and silently, you pray to the Aeons for a quick death.

Perhaps, if you believe it all to be a bad dream, you can escape this situation, can wake up and blink away the nightmare while tucked into the warmth of your bed. So, your eyes press shut in terror, hands balling into fists as your survival instincts scream for action.

The sound of his weapon hitting the floor shatters your fragile hope and frees you from your stupor. It forces you to turn around upon the first touch of bandaged hands on your skin. But your wrist is caught before your palm can make contact with his beautiful, haunting face. Blade greets you once more with those familiar, empty eyes tearing through all your walls in a matter of seconds.

He looks worse than ever. The past weeks must have taken a terrible toll on his already fragile sanity. You’ve never seen him this conflicted, never witnessed so much pain etched into his features.

The Mara has struck again, and again, feeding on him relentlessly.

How much of the man he once was remains? The thought almost makes you forget your circumstances.

It’s no surprise that he managed to escape the Cloud Knights again. Those feeble guards could never keep him under control—no one can. Unlike the sickness coursing through his very being, tainting him, dragging him deeper into despair with every strike.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of you, couldn’t stop yearning for the comfort you provide. He knows he’s hurt you, knows he’s taken advantage of you and robbed you of all that is good. But how could he act selflessly when you’re the closest thing to the sweet release he so craves? In you, he imagines himself embraced by peace, by calm, by freedom from all this hatred—since the nothingness he longs for won't open the gates for him. What a sweet fantasy.

“No, no, no…” Blade murmurs in response to your attempt at violence while his fingers grasp your chin, effectively allowing him to savour the tumultuous rollercoaster of emotions reflected in your worried expression. “You’re not going to rat me out and hurt me,” he mutters, bumping the tip of his nose against yours and cooling your heated cheeks as a low chuckle escapes him. Your body stiffens at his unnerving affection. “I can forgive you for calling the guards. I know I’ve hurt you; I am hurting you—”

“Then stop.” You’re quick to interrupt, eager to regain some fickle sense of control, unfortunately, your eyes betray you. Blade’s brows crease as he seems to stare straight into your soul, as though he is already lost in you. “But I need you,” he mumbles against the soft flesh of your lips before his head dips lower, his kisses branding your neck. Strong arms wrap around your waist as your palms desperately push against his unmoving chest, trying in vain to remain resolute in your decision to cast him out.

You want more from your mortal life than to be a charging station for a criminal.

But the protest of calling his name turns out to be a futile effort as your voice comes out as nothing but a soft plea, a gentle moan born of his selfish deeds.

You fill Blade with an uncountable amount of pride when you melt into his embrace like you’ve always belonged, claiming a space he holds only for you. His hand reaches beneath your clothes, a fingertip tracing the length of your spine until you arch into him ever so perfectly. He witnesses the shivers coursing through your body as his ragged breaths drag you back to a hell you thought you’d escaped.

Any protests you clung on to are discarded. Any scream stuck in your throat as his heaving chest rises against yours while sultry whispers of sweetness lure you down a path of despair. “I need you more than I want to,” the confession vibrates low against your skin while strong hands take hold of your thighs to effortlessly lift you off your feet, pinning you against the nearest wall to allow for a quick ridding of your silk dress. “I need to have you whole—all of you.”

Blade feels nothing but greed when it comes to you. There is no space left for consideration, no room for manners after the time he had spent alone again—not when you look like his personal angel. A sinner Blade has been for centuries, a criminal, a wanted man ever since he returned to this world instead of passing away when he consumed life itself. Yet never, in all this time, has the Mara affected his feelings in such a primitive way.

His lips ravage your skin as he presses himself into you, seeking solace in your warmth, your racing heart, the drumming pulse he can feel beneath his kisses. Every trace of friction is claimed as though it’s his right, as though you truly are his.

Lust clouds your better judgement upon the passion you’re drowning in. Blade floods over you. The fighting spirit you once held is beaten by desire. By everything you wanted from Blade for so long. Too long, all you had was his embrace, but now, tonight, you’re swept away by his need until you can no longer swim against the tide.

Hold onto him.

Your arms find their way around his neck and shoulders, allowing yourself to pull him closer into you and listen to his sounds of satisfaction. Your fingers thread through dark locks, tugging sharply at the roots—just how he loves it, you realise upon the smirk on his face, upon the raspy moan as his hips jerk forward against you. “Careful what you wish for now,” he warns, the words nothing but another breathed sensation against the shell of your ear.

But all you care about is how close he is, how warm he feels, how intoxicating his scent is.

You hum in bliss as your nose trails along his neck, lips brushing against his sharp jawline. The embrace tightens as though you never want to let go. “I only ever wished for you,” you whisper. The sweet words coat his lips like honey as they meet yours in a deep kiss, threatening to steal the very air from your lungs.

A gasp of surprise fills your chest as Blade lifts you from the wall, carrying you through your home while his reckless lips taint your skin. He paints you as his possession through the sting of his teeth against your skin, suckling and licking as if he could taste your pulse if he dug just a little deeper.

You would never be able to admit that you’ve been entirely devoured by his gluttony. Mind and body all consumed by Blade. Even undoing his jacket proves a struggle as your fingers fumble with the buttons.

Blade could find amusement in your clumsiness if it weren’t for the irritation he feels upon walking into your door. Instead of opening it in one smooth motion, he presses you against the hardwood. You seize the opportunity with that old, stuck door, letting your legs wrap tightly around his waist, banishing any distance that once remained between your bodies.

A shameless moan escapes you at the feeling of his erection pressing against your tainted panties once more, the sensation so delicious and promising. And he rewards you with a throaty groan.

“Devil,” Blade groans at your attack. One more move like this and he’ll take you here if you’re not careful. “I need to feel you. I want to taste you, pretty girl.” At that, you grin—it’s the first pet name he’s ever used, and it’s utterly endearing.

“Then don’t make me wait, Mr Criminal.” You can’t refuse to open the door in his stead, fully aware he’s forgotten his earlier plans of carrying you to your bedroom when he can instead feel you fully in this position.

You steal the balance from his hold, catching him completely off guard as you let him stumble into the room. “Careful, Bladie,” you tease further, with a sudden discovery of bravery; mischief laces your soft voice, only to be muted by his advances as he hoists you up onto your dresser.

“Bladie?” he repeats with slight apprehension.

Yet the cheerful expression on your face makes him forget about the somewhat irritating spider that loves to use the same nickname. Why not let you have your fun? Why not lean into it? Why not join you? Blade thinks as he closes the distance, capturing your lips while carelessly brushing aside jewellery and picture frames once neatly placed on top of the furniture to create further room.

But you don’t have time to reciprocate his kiss, refusing his advances like he means nothing as you reach for the frames tumbling off the edge. “Don’t!” you cry in panic, barely managing to catch one before it falls. He watches in confusion as you clutch the frame to your chest like it’s your most prized possession. The reaction wipes the grin off Blade’s lips, leaving him wondering about the importance until, a second later, he snatches the item from your grasp.

Narrowed eyes drop to stare at the photo within—a picture of you with another man, a face he doesn’t recognise. Proudly standing beside the beauty Blade knows is a handsome man, a decent bit older than you, but age doesn't seem to be a concern to you.

What Blade doesn’t know is that this man is someone gone, someone who once saved you. Someone who picked you up from the streets and helped you grow into the woman you are today.

The envy seeps through his veins, bringing his blood to boil with frightening speed, causing his chest to feel heavy, until he shuts out any outside noise as raging questions of your loyalty and his hatred echo in his mind.

Who is this? What is a picture of some other man doing in your room? You’re his. That’s why he came back. For you. To finally give himself to you. But you…

The Mara always strikes in fragile moments, ready to reclaim him. Your hands, desperate and pleading, are brushed off like whispers in the wind. Your voice, frantic and trembling, is drowned out by the storm within him. You’re unable to penetrate the walls that are erecting around Blade’s body and heart.

There’s that familiar expression on his face again, one etched with dread and hatred. That same tell-tale sign you’ve come to recognise.

Calling his name offers no forgiveness, only anguish, as strong fingers snake around your neck, his fingertips pressing down until you’re gasping, until eyes of madness meet your scared gaze as he draws close. It feels eerily similar to the first time your foreheads touched—yet nothing like it at all. The moment holds no tenderness; this time, you fear for your life.

Blade has lost himself before, but never like this. Never in a way that truly hurt you. And hurt it does as he fists a hand into your hair, forcing you further into submission, exposing your near-naked figure to the brutal moonlight while the monster looms over you.

“Someone else?” A near unfamiliar voice questions. It’s nothing like the tender rasp you’re used to. The picture you had tried so desperately to protect shatters against the floor, erupting a sob from your struggling throat.

“Betrayed me for that…” he mumbles to himself, twisting the narrative in his mind, bending it to feed the hatred coursing through him.

His grip on you tightens.

It hurts. Truly stings how you’re being handled; the pain is as sharp as his accusations, branding you as a traitor. “No, Blade, please, just lis—”

Yet, your protests die as the hand around your throat tightens. A little more strength and he might snap your neck then and there. He can feel it beneath his palm—the frantic race of your pulse, your desperate attempts to swallow, your panicked fight for air.

Why is he hurting you? Didn’t he come here for salvation?

Blade stares down at you, the chaos in his mind giving way to something softer—something broken. His grip loosens, and the rage that burns in his chest starts to crumble, leaving behind guilt so heavy it threatens to crush him. His hands tremble once they release their hold, ghosting over your irritated skin in apology.

“You’re all I want,” Blade confesses, voice nothing but a whisper as he stumbles over his words. “What I came back for... does he give you wh—” His voice falters, unable to finish the sentence when your eyes lock with his. It was like a knife to the gut. In that fleeting moment, he felt every ounce of his confidence and ruthlessness crumble.

The air rushed in so sharply that it felt like new life was flooding your lungs, overwhelming you like the man who caused the pain. You gasp pathetically, your body trembling as you struggle to steady yourself—to comfort yourself.

“I’m not seeing another man.” The words follow quietly but firmly, as the pain you experience keeps your voice low. “I didn’t want to see anyone else.”

Blade’s entire being seems to cave in at that. The guilt floods him, pulling him deeper and deeper until it threatens to swallow him. His shoulders sag, his face contorts with an agony he can no longer hide. How had he let this happen? He had sworn to never hurt you, to never let his demons break what was left of the only good thing in his life. And yet, here he was, broken by the very thing he feared most.

He had failed you. Failed himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, not now, not when the consequences of his actions stare right back at him. His head falls against your shoulder, seeking comfort in your warmth—despite everything. Your embrace was the only thing that anchored him to this world.

His fingers tremble as they brush against your back, a futile attempt to atone for the chaos he’d caused. Your hands, though, cling to him. Even as you flinched, your touch remained unwavering.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. The confession is barely audible, heavy with sorrow that cuts deeper than any wound ever could. His forehead touches yours, the gesture so tender, so unlike the man he was just moments ago. "I'm so sorry."

The air hangs thick between you, but instead of pulling away, he stays close. His fingers skim along the curve of your face as though you might shatter under his touch. His lips, so often twisted into a scowl or smirk, brush against the corner of your mouth with a gentleness that takes you by surprise.

The madness that consumed him moments ago retreats into the depths of his soul, leaving a hollow ache in its place. Blade cups your face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streak your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats.

“Blade…” your voice is soft and fragile, and your hands come up to rest on his wrists. You search his eyes, the wild, unrelenting storm now replaced by a man drowning in remorse.

“It’s… it’s okay,” your voice cracks as you try to speak louder, and Blade's heart twists at the sound. The rasp of your words is like a slap to his face, a reminder of the damage he caused. “You didn’t do it on purpose,” you whisper while you seek comfort in the curve of his neck. Your fingers run shakily through his hair, offering him a softness he doesn’t deserve.

In that silence, a heavyweight settles between you, like a promise unspoken. He can feel your fear, the way your body stiffens ever so slightly against him. You are afraid. Afraid of him, afraid of what he can do. And yet, here you are, offering him kindness despite all.

It tears at him.

His mind fights with itself, battling the guilt, the regret, the shame. All the anger and pain he holds inside, all the monsters he refuses to face, melting away at the sight of you. The truth is clear: he needs you. You are the only thing that can silence the madness inside him, the only one who can put him back together.

“But I need you.” The confession slipped out of him, once again. It was more than a plea; it was the truth that had festered inside him for so long.

You pull away, your hands trembling as they push against his chest. There is fear in your eyes. He can see it. You are terrified of what he is capable of, terrified of what might happen if you let him truly have you. Yet, your body betrays your words, your fingers still fisting his jacket, holding him close as though you can’t bear to let go.

“You will find someone who does the same, better than me,” you say gently, but your voice wavers, a crack in your resolve. “Someone stronger.” He sees the doubt in your eyes, the inner struggle that mirrors his own. You don’t want to let him go, not really. But you are trying to protect yourself, trying to shield your heart from the man who has hurt you more times than you can count.

"Once more, let me hold you... just once," Blade whispers against your ear, his voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of his desire. "Again and again, forevermore. I don’t want anyone else."

His words are like a prayer. A plea. But it is his actions that speak louder as he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering.

"Let me make it right," he murmurs, his voice low, pleading. His hands glide down your body, carefully tracing the outline of your waist, your hips, your thighs. Blunt fingernails drag along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you always wanted him to be most. Your breath hitches, and the sound draws a low hum of satisfaction from him.

“Like nobody else,” Blade whispers, his lips ghosting over your collarbone as his fingers dip between your folds. “So beautiful.”

A gasp escapes you as he spreads your arousal, his movements deliberate, unhurried. He’s careful, near worshipful, every touch made to remind you of the connection you’ve always craved from him. His fingers pump into you, curling with each slow drag to find that spot that has you keening, your toes curling as pleasure courses through you.

Your thighs instinctively press against his sides, but he holds you there, caged between his chest and the wall, his eyes locked onto yours. Foreheads resting together, his gaze is searching, desperate, as though trying to memorise every detail of this moment before it slips away.

“Let me make it all up. Let me look after you. Let me…” He trails off as he claims your lips in a deep, searing kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, slow and intoxicating, before his teeth catch your lower lip, tugging just enough to make you whimper. The sound nearly undoes him, his resolve faltering as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

But instead of devouring you whole, he—ever so carefully—gathers you in his arms and carries you to bed. While his actions remain gentle, as if you might shatter if handled too roughly, his eyes roam shamelessly over your naked figure, addicted to every curve. Your back meets the soft mattress while he remains standing at the edge of the bed, as if contemplating whether to truly infiltrate your sanctuary.

If it weren’t for your hands reaching out after you crawl over to where he stands, to invite him in, they explore his body, gliding upward until you can shrug off his coat, the fabric landing carelessly on the hardwood—revealing scars that criss-cross his entire torso—evidence of battles fought and lost, of the pain he carries every day, of the brutal punishment he endured.

Your fingers brush over them, tentative at first, then firmer as you lean up to kiss each mark. The tenderness in your actions draws a sharp inhale from him. He watches you, his crimson eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that might leave you addicted to his attention.

Your lips trail lower, down his stomach to the waistband of his trousers, kisses shameless upon the effect you have on his body. But before you can go further, his hands are on you again. He hoists you effortlessly back into the bed, drawing a surprised yelp from you upon the sudden shift in position.

He looms above you, his lips finding yours again as his hand trails down your body, worshipping every inch of you. "You’ll have to behave, pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice tinged with warmth as he kisses a path down your body.

His trousers join the discarded cloak on the floor, and he drags his nails up your thighs, teasing, coaxing. His hands find the backs of your knees, parting your legs as he positions himself between them. “I’ll give you everything,” he breathes, “Everything I have to give.” Leaning over you, his long strands of hair fall around his face, framing his sharp features most perfectly. His strength presses you gently but firmly into the mattress, holding you in place as he leans in.

The stretch as he enters is slow, every inch of him pushing into you until he bottoms out. A shuddered breath escapes his lips once he stills, his forehead pressing against yours once more.

“I know, I know,” he shushes with a tender kiss to your forehead as you claw at his back, nails dragging ever so perfectly for him to struggle to remain still inside you. “You’re doing so well,” he encourages upon the whimper you let out, your back arching off the mattress upon the waves of pleasure you try to accommodate.

Blade can’t resist moving his hips, pulling back almost entirely only to stretch you anew, to feel you struggle to stay sane. Hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that speaks of both desperation and devotion. His body cloaks yours, his hair brushing against your skin as he leans over, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck. The weight of his guilt lingers in every touch, every kiss, every thrust, as though he’s trying to atone for the pain he’s caused.

The moon casts its silvery light through the window, illuminating the room in a quiet glow. Shadows dance along the walls as Blade moves against you, his body pressing into yours with every deep thrust. The rhythm he sets is steady yet intense, his movements precise while holding you close.

His touch is gentle, like you’re his most prized possession—sacred. Roughened hands, scarred and calloused, trace the curve of your waist, memorising the soft rise and fall of your body beneath him while whispering sweet praise that will remain in your memory longer than his presence.

“So perfect,” Blade murmurs, his voice low, barely more than a breath. The heat of it sends shivers down your spine. “So good to me.”

Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer as your bodies move together in a rhythm that feels perfect. His breath is warm on your neck, his lips ghosting over your pulse before trailing fleeting kisses along the line of your jaw.

The drag of his body against yours, the way he stretches you, fills you—each movement sends sparks of pleasure through your body, building until you’re breathless, lost in the haze.

But even in this closeness, even with his skin pressed so tightly against yours, there’s a shadow behind his eyes. A heaviness clings to him. You can feel it even as he murmurs praises against your skin, even as his hands tighten around your hips like he’s afraid to let go.

“Blade,” you moan his name gently, as if you could ground him here, keeping him from slipping away if you just showed him how good he makes you feel.

His lips claim yours again, deepening the kiss upon first contact for his tongue to move against yours, drawing a soft moan from you that only seems to affect him further. His hands take hold of your thighs as he thrusts harder, his resolve faltering over the sound of your voice, the way you breathe his name—it’s too much, and yet it’s not enough.

“Stay with me,” you murmur against his lips, though your words are muffled by his kiss.

His response is a low, guttural sound as his hips thrust harder, faster. He’s unravelling, his need for you dulling every other thought. Equally, the pleasure builds in your core, coiling tight until it snaps, until you fall apart beneath him, with him.

The way you tighten around him draws a shudder from his body, and he follows you moments later, his release consuming him as he buries himself deep inside you. His forehead rests against yours, his breath ragged as his body shakes with the force of it.

For a brief moment, everything stills. His weight on top of you grounds you in the quiet aftermath, his chest heaving in time with yours as your breaths meet in the space between your sore-kissed lips.

But the silence stretches, and the weight in your chest grows heavier. Even as his hands remain on your skin, tracing mindless patterns along your hips, he feels distant, like he’s already slipping away.

You lift a hand, brushing your fingers along his jaw to lure his gaze back to yours. “Blade?”

His gaze meet yours, and for a brief moment, his expression softens. But it feels safer to let his eyes fall shut, as if he were to try and shield himself from your influence, from the words you might say.

He presses one last kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than he should.

When the two of you finally untangle, Blade doesn’t leave your side. Instead, he lies beside you, propped up on one elbow as his other hand brushes the hair from your face. 

“Sleep,” he commands softly, almost tenderly. 

But you hesitate, your fingers curling into his arm as if to tether him to you. “You’ll stay?” The question cuts through him like iron. He forces a small smile. “I’ll stay.”

What a sweet lie.

Yet, the exhaustion overtakes as his warmth surrounds you. You allow your eyes to flutter shut, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel safe. Blade, however, remains awake, his eyes fixed on you, drinking in the sight of you at peace. There’s a softness in your features that makes his heart ache. 

He doesn’t leave a note. There’s nothing he could say that would make up for what he’s done, for what he’s about to do. All he can do is disappear, sparing you the burden of his sickness, his sins, his darkness. 

dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/anitalenia

[shirajellyfish]

Character flaws

Just gonna go on a tangent about this for a second, because like

Part 1: Why they don't work and never have

The number one piece of advice people get about writing is to give their characters flaws. Your characters can't be too perfect. Flaws will make them interesting, dynamic, compelling, more real! Flawed characters make for a perfect story! But then someone will ask how to give their characters flaws, and the response is almost invariably something along the lines of

"Just don't make them perfect. Give them a scar or a disability or something."

This is some of the worst writing advice I've ever heard, right up there with "NEVER use adjectives ever" and "Nahh, you don't need to make backups of your work, it'll totally be fine and nothing bad will happen." It's also the single most common piece of writing advice I've come across. This is bad advice.

Because like… Scars aren't a personality flaw. Disabilities especially are not a personality flaw. Both these things have their uses in writing characters, but they aren't flaws. Honestly it's a little shocking that people think it's okay to outright say they think a disability is a character flaw to begin with, because like. Excuse me?

The next problem with this is that, even if these were somehow character flaws, most people don't want to make literally all their characters scarred and disabled. That's like saying that good characters are required to have blonde hair and bushy eyebrows. A character or two with those traits isn't an issue, but telling someone all their characters need one or both of these two traits? That's incredibly limiting.

Lastly, it encourages people to think up a character and then tack on the 'flaws' after. It's why we ended up with an era of perfectly smart perfectly beautiful perfectly skilled characters that had a disproportionate amount of angst about some tiny barely noticeable scar on their back. It's how we get characters that are 'clumsy' (in no way that actually matters to the story), or who have the sole flaw of being too perfect.

People made characters they liked, and they liked them exactly that way. Then afterwards, they had to tack on some 'flaw' they didn't actually want to be part of the character. So they of course make that 'flaw' as small and unimportant as possible. To go back to the "all characters must be blonde with bushy eyebrows" comparison, it's the writer trying to work around this unwanted restriction by giving everyone rainbow hair dye and eyebrow trimmers.

So, how do we fix that?

Part 2: How to fix that

… Or one way, anyway. There are infinite ways to solve this problem, most of which start by completely throwing out the standard scar/disability advice. Everyone has their own way to write characters. But just saying "idk, everyone is different, there are lots of ways" is ridiculously unhelpful. So, here's one way to do it that I really like to use personally. You can use it too, if you want.

instead of a flaw, I like to give my characters an Unshakeable Trait.

What is an unshakeable trait? It's the term I like to use for something that will always be true about a character. Something core to them, something that will never leave them for as long as they live. It is, most importantly, not a flaw.

Let's come up with a quick character as an example. Meet Alaric, who always keeps his word. Anything Alaric says he will do, he will do it.

This is Alaric's greatest strength.

Alaric says he will save all the orphans from the burning orphanage. People doubt him, but he does it. He said he was going to do it, so there was nothing that could stop him from doing it.

Alaric says he will catch the thieves hiding in the mountains. Many have tried and failed to do this, but Alaric says he can do it. And thus, Alaric does it.

Alaric says he will move a mountain? He wouldn't say it unless he could and would make it true. We've seen him do amazing things before. We don't know how yet, but we know that mountain is about to move.

One day, Alaric says he will slay the dragon. We know, for certain, that nothing will stop him from slaying that dragon.

… Not even if it turns out the dragon wasn't really bothering anyone.

… Not even if something goes wrong and Alaric ends up without the important tools he'd prepared for this task.

… Not even if the battle is likely to kill his entire party. Not even if killing the dragon will only make way for more dangerous monsters to move in. Not even if his friends beg and plead with him, Alaric you must stop, this is a death sentence to us all!

Alaric said he would do this, and he will.

Because this isn't just Alaric's greatest strength. It's also his greatest weakness.

The hearts of the readers are heavy as they realize what is about to unfold, but they are not surprised. By now they know Alaric and they know who he is. They know the dragon will die, no matter the consequences.

In the battle, the entire town and all the people who once lived in it is burned to the ground. Every last one of Alaric's friends die in battle. When the dragon falls, only Alaric is left alive.

… And that makes for a really interesting story! Gosh darn! That's way more fun than a story where some cool guy just always solves everyone's problems all the time! And now that we've seen the terrible consequences of Alaric's actions, we can take it even further! How exactly does Alaric react to what he's done?

Is he unable to cope with his terrible mistake, and twists himself into something awful trying to justify his actions?

Does he plead with the ashes, begging the charred town for forgiveness he cannot have?

Does he vow to take back what he's done? Drive himself to madness in pursuit of an unobtainable goal, every action an even greater mistake than the last?

Does he grow, and change his ways? Because he absolutely can do that. An unshakeable trait is always there deep down inside a character, but it is possible for them to learn to overcome it. It will be a battle they'll fight every day for the rest of their lives, and it is a battle they will not always win, but it is possible. Filled with regret, there may be a day where Alaric says he will do something… and then consciously makes an incredible effort to avoid doing it, because he realized it would be a mistake. Today, he was able to overcome his weakness. That trait isn't going anywhere though, and tomorrow is still unsure.

That is my favorite way to write a flawed character.

The most fun part is, this unshakeable trait can be anything. It can be that they always finish things very quickly. It can be that they love their friends more than anything else in the universe. It can be that they're always multitasking. It can be their child-like wonder, or their scientific mind, or even something as silly as their love of sweet potatoes. When made central to their character and taken to extremes, absolutely anything can function as this dual greatest strength and greatest weakness.

That being said, this is again just one way to do it. To say this is the only way to write a flawed character brings us back to "but they must all be blonde and have bushy eyebrows." And sometimes? Sometimes you don't even want to write a flawed character. Sometimes you want an invincible Superman, and if that's what you want then go for it!

This is one place you could start if you're feeling lost or unsure, but at the end of the day it's just a tool in your pocket. It's up to you to choose your favorite tools for the job.

Writing should be fun! Write what you love. Write what interests you, most of all.

[the-fab-fox]

This is so true. I recently saw a recipe for a really healthy meal on a recipe blog. I clicked the author's name and found my way to their actual domained website. In their about, I found the email. I have emailed them asking if there was a way to do the recipe but in a crockpot due to the pretty unsafe environment I live in—due to the skuzzy way my roommate/Subletter acts, I don't feel safe using the kitchen. I have not received an answer but from my experience sending out emails to people one would not generally consider, I know one of two things will happen. They will simply not respond (that is to say ignore or disregard my email) or they will answer and let me know if it can be done or let me know they don't have the time or energy to offer that solution. And these two options aren't bad at all. There's no consequence.

So even if they *don't* answer, what's the problem with asking when the worst outcome is simply no answer. You're literally losing nothing no matter the outcome, and more times than you think you're gaining something.

A few more examples on this:

I'm very much a networker. I am a people person and really good at striking up random conversations with people. Been that way my whole life. I just love interacting and helping people. (I'm a customer service professional of 20 years if that says anything).

I also am pretty intermediate with computers and very good at writing resumes and cover letters for job resumes and things like that. A lot of that comes from the fact that when I was younger, if I wanted something that could only come from a specific person/company/entity/etc, I would search and research until I found the contact needed.

Sometimes I'd be pleasantly surprised, sometimes not. But I never lost anything by trying.

A few times I was pleasantly surprised:

I was/am really into Criminal Minds as a TV show. Got into it in my 20s. It's become a comfort show (as weird as that is for a show about a fictionalized Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI). I was thinking... What would it take to be a BAU agent. It's probably nothing like the show so what's it like really. So I went on USAjobs.gov to look into it. Found contact for FBI. Emailed with a well edited and professional email (yes, this is absolutely important if you want to be taken seriously—if anyone would like me to draft up an example of what that could look like in a specific scenario, I'm happy to help!) as well as I could at the age I was at (basically, write it as well written and professional as you know how at where you're at now—don't try to "sound" professional and use big words. Just write as you but more formal). Lo and behold, I got my answer and it was quite thorough and they even warned me that the team as is seen on the show is very over glorified and the BAU mostly consults from afar and very rarely goes into the field. Lol. But you still have to pass the entrance exams which include physical.

2nd time, around the same time. I was a member of a Matthew Gray Gubler (Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds) fan blog on Live journal. (Really aging yourself, here, Finley 🤣) Anyway. There was a movie we heard of that MGG would be in but no one knew if it was true or really happening or if the project was still in the works or had been stalled. I did a Google search, found the movies official page, found a contact email or form. I was consise in my subject line and consise in my email (my thinking was entertainment people are gonna be hella busy so put my inquiry in as little but still respectful and professional words as possible. I stated who I was, my experience leading to my question (in this case I said something along the lines of 'my name is Finley Beckett and I'm a member of a Mattew Gray Gubler fan blog. The group of us have been looking forward to the movie that if coming out but we haven't heard anything about it or whether it's still happening or not. I was hoping that you might be able to shine some light on this. Also, due to the questionable relience of the internet these days, would it be at all possible to send some kind of proof that you are indeed the people behind the movie. I won't share with the group, of course, but that way I can with 100% confidence, inform them of your response). And two or so days later I got an email from the director of the movie himself (and keep in mind this was a lower budget film and pretty sure straight to DVD so obviously this would likely not work with someone like say George Lucas or Christopher Nolan or Stephen Spielberg) emailed me back and gave me not only what has been happening as far as movie production but as well as a few production stills that included MGG within them.

I've gotten to correspond with two of my favorite novelists due to finding their websites and through those, their contacts. (Business inquiry emails count as contacts). And one of them, probably my favorite author of all time (Tamora Pierce) even looked over some of my writing at the time and gave me some really great feedback. To this day I cherish this moment even if I've lost the email to time.

Ultimately, the biggest advice I can give on this sort of thing is best summed up in this quote:

"You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take. Even though there is only a 1-5% probably of scoring."

— Wayne Gretzky (not Michael Scott 🤣)

And I left in the second part because it confirms what I've said. Like yes, there's only a 1-5% chance of getting something out of reaching out, especially in this day and age.

That said, if you never try, that percentage stays at 0%. Full stop.

You're already at 0%, so it would make more sense if you tried because even if you fail, you're already at 0% so you've literally got nothing to lose, right?

IDK if any of this will help but I wanted to try just the same. (See what I did there? 😉)

[demensrage]

l for lustful adventure ⚊ •. with shoyo hinata

summary: a fun anniversary adventure unleashes the most primitive desires between you. a lustful adventure that you are not willing to deny, there will be put into scenes what was never said between you.

cw: established relationship, dom! hinata, sub! reader, spanking, fingering, oral (m. receiving), overstimulation, unprotected, rough sex, creampie, thight riding, blindfold play.

word count: 9k 💀

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

You knew how beautiful Brazil was from the constant photos your husband had sent you, but seeing it with your own eyes is a delight that the images can’t capture. Everything looks so vibrant: the sky with an incomparable blue, the lush green plants lining the streets, and the warm sun that caresses your skin with an intensity unknown in Japan. The hustle and bustle of people, the aroma of fresh fruits and coffee floating in the air, and the contagious laughter of street vendors remind you that you’ve crossed the world to a culture where life seems to pulse in every corner.

Now you understand why Hinata had fallen in love with this place, why he spoke about it with so much emotion, why he wanted you to enjoy it too. And now you were there beside him, two weeks into your arrival, and you simply couldn’t get enough of the landscape. A few days weren’t enough to enjoy the wonders of this beautiful country, which is why it was easy to convince him to spend more time there. Your third wedding anniversary was fast approaching, and that was always a good excuse.

The first two weeks were spent enjoying São Paulo, immersing yourselves in its vibrant urban life, exploring the street art in Vila Madalena, the unmatched flavors of the Municipal Market, and the hustle and bustle of downtown. Now, you were ready for the next adventure: Rio de Janeiro. What you longed for most was to see the Christ the Redeemer statue, the imposing guardian of the city that, even in photos, seemed to convey a deep peace. You wanted to see for yourself if its grandeur was as real as it seemed.

You both decided that driving would be a great idea. This way, you could enjoy every stop for food or simply pause to admire the view. The winding road offered captivating landscapes; green mountains contrasting with the blue sky and the emerald sea that seemed to stretch endlessly. You carried your camera, ready to capture every moment and every special corner. From the small towns along the way, each with its own charm, to the street vendors offering sweets and guaraná sodas.

The trip itself was an adventure. The landscapes changed with each stretch of road, and every stop had its unique magic. Sometimes, you both would get out of the car just to feel the warm breeze or enjoy a fresh fruit bought from a roadside vendor. There was something about that road trip that made each kilometer feel like a small victory, a conquest of memories and shared experiences.

You remembered how hard it had been to stay together despite the distance. Hinata was in Brazil for his training, focused on reaching his dreams as a professional player, while you stayed in Japan, clinging to your studies, so close to finishing university that quitting wasn’t an option. The nights were especially tough; the time difference and the absence of his voice made the emptiness feel deeper.

However, you found a way to cope. Every morning, you woke up to a message from him, telling you how he woke up in Brazil, talking about his training, how the weather and the language were a constant challenge, but also his excitement about being so close to fulfilling his dreams. Sometimes, the messages came with spontaneous photos: one of him with his teammates, another of a typical Brazilian dish he was trying for the first time, or one of the urban landscape surrounding him.

For your part, you sent him pictures of the corners of the university, the notes you hated so much, and the books that seemed endless. These small routines became your refuge, reminding both of you that, although you were separated by thousands of kilometers, your lives were still shared in those little details.

All that effort, every sacrifice, and every day of waiting had been worth it. In the last game of the season, when everything was set for him to come home with you, Hinata decided to dedicate the final shot to you, sealing the victory in your name. The emotion overwhelmed you; despite the struggles to arrive on time, the flight delays, and the anxiety of a lost suitcase, you had made it just in time. The language barrier complicated everything, but nothing mattered at that moment. From the stands, your eyes met his, and in that instant, you knew he had seen you. With that unmistakable spark in his gaze, he made the shot that would define the game… and won it for you.

The stadium erupted in cheers, but for him, it wasn't enough; no, Hinata always had to celebrate in grand style. So, with his heart pounding a thousand beats per minute and emotions running high, he ran toward you in the stands, weaving through his teammates and the crowd until he reached you. He took your hand without hesitation, and, amidst applause and astonished gasps, he knelt down. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his eyes shining and a smile that disarmed you. The proposal echoed in the stadium, and in that moment, the whole world seemed to stop. You said yes, between laughter and tears, and you were the happiest woman in that crowded place because he, your Hinata, had made that victory a double one: he had won the game and also your heart forever.

Now, as you enjoyed this trip, you felt that every moment by his side was a new opportunity to create lasting memories, moments that, over the years, would fill your life with stories to tell. You were ready to enjoy his company in every stage of life, even when youth faded and the years brought new adventures.

As Hinata helped you take the bags out of the car, the golden light of the sunset wrapped everything around you, and although the city's sound was constant, you paused for a moment to absorb the view of the hotel. The horizon stretched out before you, with the sea reflecting the last rays of the sun and the mountains in the distance, like a perfect painting. You felt fortunate because this trip, like so many others to come, wasn’t just about the places you’d visit, but about what you shared on the journey.

Hinata approached you, noticing you had become still, and with a tender smile, he took your hand. "Do you like the view?" he asked, with the calmness that only he could convey. "Yes," you answered, not taking your eyes off the scene. "It's perfect. Will you take me to that bar you told me about?"

Hinata smiled at your question, his gaze lit by the sunset. "Of course, it's a special place," he said, interlacing his fingers with yours as he began walking toward the hotel. "It's close to the beach, with an incredible view, and the live music is always so good it makes you forget everything else."

The idea of sharing that place with him, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere while the sun slowly faded behind the mountains, filled you with excitement. You knew it wasn’t just the bar that made it special, but everything it represented: a little corner of the world where you both would feel even more connected, sharing laughter, conversations, and dreams.

As you walked toward the hotel entrance, you thought about how lucky you were to be there, at that moment. It didn’t matter how many places you explored; the most important thing was always being together, creating memories that would be part of your shared story.

Hearing Hinata speak Portuguese while asking for the hotel keys was a new pleasure you had just discovered. His voice, already soft and warm in Japanese, became even deeper and more resonant when he spoke this new language, as if each syllable were imbued with a warmth only he could convey.

The way his accent added a different twist to his tone made you smile unconsciously, a feeling of comfort and admiration that grew with every sentence. It was as if, by speaking Portuguese, his essence became even more charming, more connected to the land that had captured his heart at that point in his life.

You stayed there, watching him as he smiled while receiving the keys and offered you a knowing glance. "We'll be in the room soon. Would you like to rest or explore a bit more?" he asked, unaware that, by doing so, he had once again captivated you with that mix of tenderness and confidence only he could convey.

"Let’s go to that bar, I’m eager to check it out," you replied enthusiastically, taking his arm naturally as you walked together toward the elevator. The contact was warm, and the connection between you both felt as solid as ever.

"I rested a lot on the road trip," you added with a soft smile. "Unless you want to rest, of course." You turned to look at him, noticing how his eyes sparkled with that unmistakable energy that always characterized him.

Hinata laughed softly, shaking his head. "Rest? With so much to explore? Impossible," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Let’s go to the bar, but promise me you'll let yourself be amazed by the night view from the beach afterward. It’s something you have to see."

"I promise," you said without hesitation, feeling more and more excited about what the night would bring. The elevator arrived, and you both got in, enjoying those small moments together that made everything worth it.

The bar's atmosphere was filled with a mix of laughter, soft music, and the melting pot of languages flowing among the groups of tourists and locals. The dim lights illuminated the tables, but it was the dance floor that truly caught everyone's attention. People moved to the rhythm of samba and other Brazilian genres with a natural sensuality that seemed to flow from every movement, as if the music had completely taken over their bodies. The bright colors of the dancers' outfits and the sparkle of glasses on the tables added a warm, almost magical ambiance that enveloped you effortlessly.

You felt comfortable, relaxed, with a glass of piña colada with vodka in your hand, the ice still crunching with the first sip. The sweet, fruity flavor of the cocktail contrasted perfectly with the stronger kick of the vodka, giving you a small push of courage. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol—a slight euphoria that made everything around you feel more vibrant, more intimate.

Hinata, seated beside you, smiled as he noticed your gaze fixed on the dance floor. There was something in the way you watched the couples, how they surrendered themselves to the music, that made him realize it intrigued you more than you had let on.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, not expecting much more than a nod of acceptance. But he noticed something in your expression—a mix of curiosity and a desire to explore something new, something he hadn’t seen in you before.

You didn’t need more words. Without hesitation, you stood up, taking his hand and leading him toward the floor. “Yes,” you said, a mischievous smile surprising even yourself. “I want to try it. I want to see how they do it.”

The music grew louder as you began moving to the rhythm like the Brazilians. It wasn’t just the dancing that drew you in but the way every movement seemed to be a pure expression of sensuality and confidence. You, a little uncertain at first, grew increasingly comfortable, mimicking the moves with Hinata by your side, both of you laughing.

“I think I’m struggling a bit,” you said, glancing at your husband with a playful grin. “But... would you like to teach me how to do it right?”

Hinata looked at you with a mix of admiration and amusement in his eyes. He understood what that question might imply but didn’t want to rush to conclusions. His face lit up with a warm smile, the one he always wore when he saw you open to new experiences. “Of course,” he replied, stepping closer and placing his hands on your waist, guiding your body with his to the rhythm of the music.

Somehow, the dance, the alcohol, and the atmosphere charged with sensuality began opening doors you hadn’t considered before. As you moved more freely, you realized how much you longed to be closer to him—not just physically, but in a deeper, more intimate way.

What started as a fun dancing game quickly transformed into something more profound, more personal. His hands, firm yet gentle, slowly slid down to your hips, pulling you toward him with subtle but undeniable force. The music shifted, becoming slower, more sensual, as if it mirrored the connection forming between you two. The soft, rhythmic beats intertwined with the rapid thudding of your own heart, creating a unique melody just for the two of you.

Hinata guided you expertly, making your body move in slow, synchronized circles against his. Every sway of your hips felt like a silent conversation, a whisper shared between the dance and the growing desire. The brush of your bodies generated a palpable electricity, a heat that went beyond the room's temperature. You weren’t sure if it was the closeness of his body, the warmth of the atmosphere, or perhaps the combination of both, but the fire began to flood every corner of your being.

Your eyes closed with a soft sigh, surrendering completely. It didn’t matter if the music was slow or if others were moving around you; at that moment, everything else faded away. There was only the two of you, the rhythm of the music, the whisper of his breathing, and the touch of your bodies, as if the world around you dissolved, leaving you in a perfect, desire-filled bubble.

You felt more alive than ever, as though the simple sensation of his closeness was a reminder of how much you had been holding back, how much you wanted to explore. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel insecure or shy. Passion, desire—everything you had kept buried—was now surfacing in a way you hadn’t known existed, but you relished it with every fiber of your being.

One of Hinata’s hands slid gently from your hips to your jaw, holding it with a firm yet tender grip that made your eyes flutter open slowly. His thumb brushed your skin with an almost reverent delicacy, tilting your face to one side as he leaned in. There was no rush in his movements, only a quiet determination that left you breathless.

When his lips finally met yours, it was as though everything else disappeared entirely. The bar, the music, the people around you… none of it mattered. The kiss was slow, deep, and full of emotions that seemed to have built up over days. You had forgotten how much you missed this—this intimate connection with him. During the trip, both of you had focused so much on landscapes, laughter, and new experiences that, unintentionally, these moments of closeness had been set aside.

The kiss became a reminder of everything you shared, a silent language saying more than words ever could. You felt the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hands, and that unmistakable love that had always defined your relationship. His other hand remained on your hip, keeping you close, as if afraid you might pull away.

When you finally separated, his eyes searched yours, and in that gaze, you found a blend of love, desire, and something more—something you couldn’t quite define but that ignited the spark within you even further. “I missed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. “So much.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart pound. “Me too, Hinata,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his, loving the way he seemed to adore you even in the gentle touch of his gaze. “I think we forgot how important this is, how important you are to me.”

His fingers barely grazed your back as he held you close, a gesture that, at any other time, might have gone unnoticed, but now, with the warmth of his touch, sent a shiver down your spine. It was so subtle yet laden with meaning that your thoughts began to drift, taking you back to a recent conversation with your friends.

It had been a quiet afternoon, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. They had started with light topics—travel, restaurants, daily routines—but, as always happened with that group, the conversation had turned more personal, more intimate.

Your friends, amid sighs and nervous giggles, began sharing details about their own dynamics with their partners. “Have you ever tried something… different?” one of them asked with a mischievous smile as she swirled her wine glass. “Sometimes, a little roughness can spark things you didn’t even know you wanted.”

Another nodded, bursting into laughter as she recounted how her partner had surprised her one night with a firmer grip, a whispered command in her ear. The way they spoke, with a mix of playfulness and satisfaction, had left you intrigued. Though you tried to stay on the sidelines, their eyes turned to you, expectant.

“And you?” they asked almost in unison, smiling conspiratorially.

You laughed, a bit nervously, as your cheeks turned red. “We’re… well, we’ve always been more… traditional, I guess,” you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed, though your friends didn’t judge you in the slightest. “We’ve never really talked about anything like that.”

"Well, you should," one of them chimed in enthusiastically. "You have no idea how liberating it can be. It's not about stopping enjoying what you already have; it's about exploring more, discovering new ways to connect together."

Those words had stuck with you ever since, echoing louder and louder in your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your intimate life with Hinata; on the contrary, you loved him and felt that you shared something special. But the idea of exploring, of finding a different side of the two of you, had left you wondering. What if there was more to discover, something you both could enjoy together if only you dared to bring it up?

Back in the present, the touch of his hand running down your back pulled you from your thoughts. His eyes met yours, soft and warm, but there was something more in his gaze, a spark that had perhaps always been there but that you were now noticing more clearly. Could you talk about it? Should you risk breaking the silence on this subject?

What if this wasn’t the right moment? Doubt anchored itself in your mind, immobilizing you. Talking about your sex life with Hinata, though it shouldn’t be complicated, felt like opening a door you weren’t sure how to close afterward. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—on the contrary, if there was anyone you could be vulnerable with, it was him. But the fear of making him uncomfortable or, worse, of him misunderstanding what you meant, filled you with uncertainty.

When is the right time to talk about something like this? As you watched him with that smile that always seemed to brighten any room, you wondered if a "perfect moment" even existed. Would it be on a quiet night when you were both relaxed at home? Or maybe in a spontaneous moment, like now, with the background music and the soft lights of the bar creating an ambiance straight out of a romantic movie?

You bit your lip, trying to untangle your thoughts. The way Hinata held you, how his eyes seemed to read yours, gave you a glimmer of confidence. But you still didn’t know how to start, how to put into words something so intimate that it could change dynamics you had both spent years building.

"Are you okay?" His voice came softly, pulling you back to the present. His brow furrowed slightly, worried, as if he had noticed something different about you.

"Yeah, of course," you lied with a smile, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Hinata knew you too well, and the worst part was that he would probably give you all the time in the world to say whatever was on your mind. The problem was that you didn’t even know how to start. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, but you also knew that if you kept waiting for that perfect moment, you might stay silent forever.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t about finding the moment but creating it.

"Don’t be reckless," you scolded yourself silently, as if those words could keep the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind at bay. You couldn’t afford to ruin the atmosphere—not now, not when everything seemed to flow so naturally.

But at the same time, there was something you couldn’t ignore: the feeling that this moment might be exactly what you needed to take the first step. The brush of his hands on your hips, the warmth radiating from his body, the way his eyes sparkled with a mix of playfulness and desire—it all seemed to conspire to push you to speak.

"What’s wrong?" Hinata broke the silence, leaning in a little closer to ensure his voice wasn’t lost in the music and laughter of the bar. His fingers traced small circles on your waist, a gesture so casual yet charged with intimacy.

"It’s just... nothing, it’s nothing," you replied hastily, trying to divert his attention with a smile that probably wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped.

He raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe your response for a second. "If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be so distracted," he pointed out gently, his tone filled with that infinite patience that always disarmed you.

You sighed, looking away toward the cocktail in your hand. "I don’t want to ruin the moment," you admitted in a low voice, more to yourself than to him.

"Then don’t ruin it," he replied with a mischievous smile, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Just enjoy, and when you’re ready to talk, I’m here."

His words, simple but full of meaning, made something inside you relax. You didn’t have to rush or find the perfect words immediately. This moment wasn’t the end of anything—it was the beginning of everything.

You gave yourself a mental slap, forcing yourself to gather the necessary courage. You bit your lip hard, trying to silence the avalanche of doubts that continued to assault you. Instead of speaking, you turned with determination, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your bodies move in unison to the music.

Hinata looked at you with a mix of surprise and tenderness but said nothing. He simply leaned a little closer to you, his lips brushing against your temple while his hands found a steady rhythm on your waist.

The warmth of his closeness and the electricity of the moment made you feel safe—for now. You reminded yourself that there was no need to rush. There was time. This journey, after all, was just for the two of you.

"When we get to the hotel, I’ll do it," you silently promised yourself, closing your eyes as you let the rhythm of the music envelop you. You had to do it—not because of your friends’ advice but for yourself. You wanted to open that door with him, to explore something more, something new, something only the two of you could discover together.

For now, you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, feeling safe in his arms, knowing that when the time came, he’d be ready to listen.

You sat on the bed with a sigh of relief, your hands reaching for the heels you had worn all day. You took them off urgently, as if your ankles were begging for a break after hours of endurance.

Hinata closed the door behind him, leaving the key on the nightstand as he watched you with a slight smile. "Too much dancing for one night?" he teased, walking over to sit beside you on the bed.

"Too much dancing for these shoes," you replied with a soft laugh, massaging your feet with your hands. "But it was worth it."

"It's always worth it when I see you enjoying yourself like that," he said, leaning in to gently take one of your feet, helping with the massage. His firm fingers found the exact spots, drawing a sigh of relief from you.

The gesture made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him, his eyes focused on his task, his expression so calm and attentive. It was the perfect moment, yet you still felt a lump in your throat.

"Thank you," you murmured finally, more for the massage than anything else, though deep down, you knew there was more weight behind that word.

Hinata looked up at you, noticing something in your tone. "Is something wrong?" he asked softly, setting your foot aside and turning to face you fully.

You took a deep breath, feeling how the moment you'd been putting off all day had finally caught up to you.

The question slipped from your lips before you could consider if it was the right way to approach it—a sudden impulse overtaking you. But with Hinata, there was never a "right" way to do things; everything was always spontaneous, natural, as if the world around you disappeared in the space where only the two of you existed.

"Have you ever thought about... more?" The phrase hung in the air between you, a question laden with as much uncertainty as curiosity.

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours as he read your expression. It wasn’t the reaction you had expected, but it didn’t surprise you either. He had always been an open book, yet now, something in his gaze seemed deeper, more attentive.

"More of what?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if trying to understand exactly what you meant.

The vulnerability lingered in every word that left your lips, but you didn’t stop. You had started speaking without filters, and there was no turning back now. You looked at Hinata with determination, though the knot in your stomach remained.

"More about us, you know... sexually."

The words, as direct as they were, seemed to hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them filling the room. The atmosphere shifted immediately, the tension in the air palpable. But it wasn’t discomfort—not for him, at least.

Hinata looked at you attentively, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. His expression was a mix of surprise and curiosity, but also something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"More about us?" he repeated, his tone calm, as if he were processing what you had said. "You mean exploring something different? Something... more."

You nodded, a bit embarrassed but unwilling to back down. "Yes, that. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like there’s something beyond what we’ve tried, something we could explore together if... if you’re interested too."

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, as if deeply reflecting. Then, with a compassionate smile, he gently took your hands and intertwined them with his.

"My love," he said, his tone so warm it made you feel like you could trust him completely, "I’ve always wanted you to feel comfortable and happy. And I never want you to feel like we can’t talk about anything. If this is what you want, then of course, we’ll do it together, at your pace."

The warmth of his words gave you the reassurance you needed. There was no judgment, only an open willingness to explore what you desired—what both of you desired.

"Although... I never brought it up because I was afraid," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Afraid of making you feel insecure. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t enjoying sex with you."

His words struck you right in the heart, his vulnerability opening up to you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The gesture—his hand scratching the back of his neck, so human, so sincere—made you realize how much he had worried about you, even in moments when he hadn’t said a word.

"I didn’t want you to think I don’t enjoy having sex with you," he continued, his gaze lowered as if he couldn’t fully look at you. "Because I do—more than I can put into words. But I didn’t want to pressure you, didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or like there was something wrong with what we already share."

For a moment, you stayed silent, absorbing what he had just confessed. You’d been so focused on your own thoughts and desires that you hadn’t considered Hinata’s side, his own fears. You looked at him, and the affection you felt for him grew even stronger.

"But now I know we need to talk about this," he said firmly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. "So if there’s something you want to explore... I want us to do it together. No matter how different it might be, if you’re ready, I’ll be ready too."

The relief you felt was almost immediate. It was as if all the tension that had been building between you, the small unspoken fears and doubts, dissolved in that moment.

"You didn’t need to be afraid," you said softly, taking his hand and brushing your fingers over it. "I would never want you to feel that way, Hinata. All I want is for us to be okay, to be together, and to always be able to talk about what we want."

He nodded slowly, a shy smile forming on his lips. "So... we’ll explore whatever you want to explore?" Your smile was answer enough, and in the end, no more words were necessary.

What had started as an open and honest conversation quickly transformed into a deeper connection—both physical and emotional. Hinata’s proximity, his touch at once decisive and tender, made your heart race. Without speaking, but with a gaze full of understanding, he made it clear that you both shared the desire to explore the unknown, to dive into new experiences together.

His hand, firm on your hips, gently pulled you toward him with a palpable desire. You felt his warmth through the fabric, and when he sat you on his lap, the contact became immediate and electrifying. The closeness didn’t just ignite the spark; it turned it into a blazing fire.

His lips found yours with a passion you hadn’t shared in some time—a renewed passion born from the vulnerability and sincerity of your conversation. His kiss was slow at first, exploratory, as if savoring every second of this new chapter in your relationship.

Your body responded instantly, instinctively leaning closer, letting yourself be swept away by the intensity of the moment. The feeling of being so near, of sharing something so intimate, filled you with a mix of nerves and excitement.

What started as a gentle kiss intensified with each second. Hinata's hands, which until now had been so careful, began to move with more determination. They ran down your back, touching the softness of your skin with a mix of urgency and devotion, as if they didn't want to leave anything unexplored. The touch of his hands against your body sent a warm current through your veins, an intense sensation that you hadn't experienced like that before.

His kiss became more demanding, an unexpected contrast to his usual tenderness, but somehow it was exactly what you wanted. Every movement of his lips and hands brought you closer to him, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The world outside the room ceased to exist, leaving only the contact, the shared desire that now flowed unrestricted.

Every caress, every brush of skin on skin, seemed to have a purpose, as if both could read each other's desires without the need for words. The touch of his hands, so firm and soft at the same time, ran over your body with a familiarity that felt new, as if everything that had been kept in the silence of the previous years now wanted to come to light.

Your hand traveled to his abdomen, under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. There was something about that closeness that made you feel freer, more alive, as if you could finally allow yourself to be yourself without reservation. The pressure of his lips against yours, followed by his hand on the back of your neck, increased the desire to be even closer.

Each movement of his body towards yours made you want to explore more, discover more about what you both wanted at that moment. His hand, which had traveled to your leg, slightly lifted the fabric of your skirt, revealing your skin, making a shiver run through your body. The mix of sensations, the touch of his skin against yours was all you needed to lose yourself in the moment.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he whispered, his deep voice echoing in your ears, filling you with an indescribable feeling, a desire that grew with every word.

His lips moved with precision, leaving a trail of heat on the skin of your neck. Soft, barely perceptible bites followed by open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His breath against your skin mixed with the soft hum of the air conditioner, his every move igniting something inside you.

There was no rush in his actions, but no unnecessary softness either. It was a calculated intensity, a mix of dominance and attention that kept your senses alert. His firm hand on your hip held you in place, while his mouth explored every inch of your neck with a precision that seemed designed to make you lose yourself in the sensation.

His hands slowly moved down, firm and determined, until he squeezed your ass with a dominance that made you inhale sharply. The instinctive movement of your hips against his leg sent a wave of electricity through your body, suddenly reminding you of the question he had asked moments before.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he had said, and now the voice resonated in your mind like a persistent echo, as deep and clear as the heat radiating from his body.

You bit your lip, trying to organize your thoughts as your hips continued to seek contact, unconsciously marking a rhythm on his thigh. His gaze, dark and fixed on yours, seemed to demand a response, but not of empty words, but of action.

Your hands moved decisively, gripping his thighs with a firmness that made him raise an eyebrow, somewhere between surprised and fascinated. You knew how much you liked them, and you weren’t going to be shy about it. The pressure of your fingers on the well-defined muscles was a pleasure in itself, but the position you were in gave you more control, more freedom.

You moved your hips against him confidently, seeking to explore the connection his thighs could offer you. A spark of amusement crossed his face at the sight of your determination. “That’s it,” he murmured in a low, almost defiant tone, his hands returning to your hips to support you as he followed your every move.

With one agile movement, Hinata’s hands shot to your shoulders, holding you firmly but never losing his usual gentleness. Before you could process what was happening, he lifted you slightly, making you feel light as a feather in his arms.

With unparalleled delicacy, his nimble fingers slid your panties down in a determined motion. His dark eyes searched yours intently, as if asking for permission and confirmation to continue, though the heat in the air said it all. It was clear that every action of his was meant to make you feel better, more comfortable, and completely adored under his care.

Firmly, Hinata guided your hips back to his thigh, forcing you to sit on it once more. The intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt; in that moment, you were all that existed for him. The feel of the fabric of his pants against your bare skin was something new and unexpected, a contrast between rough and delicate that made you hold your breath.

With an almost frantic desire, your hips move hard on Hinata's thigh, searching for the perfect friction that will bring you to ecstasy. Each thrust of his leg against your pussy is like an explosion that shakes every cell of your being and leaves you yearning for more.

The wetness between your legs becomes overwhelming, almost painful, but you can't stop yourself. Each touch is like an intense electric current running through your body from your core to your toes. In that moment, you are completely immersed in surrender to the pleasure shared with Hinata.

You brought your hands to his shoulders, seeking a foothold as you let yourself be carried away by the need that flooded your body. The constant movement awakened sensations that were new to you, a heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability. Your fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt, an anchor you needed to not lose yourself completely in the whirlwind of emotions that consumed you.

"Are you feeling so desperate that you need to fuck yourself on my thigh?" Hinata whispered huskily, his hot breath tickling your ear. It was a question, but also a confident statement, as if he already knew the answer and was willing to take control.

Hinata’s hands slid down your hips, his thumbs tracing circles over your skin, heightening the intensity of the moment. The pressure of his thigh beneath you and the growing heat of his skin against yours made you feel a mix of euphoria and freedom that you hadn’t anticipated.

Hinata gripped your hips with a merciless grip, guiding you through each movement with surgical precision. “Don’t stop,” he ordered in a deep voice that rumbled inside you, charged with a fierce authority you had never known before. His eyes remained fixed on you, devouring your every expression as if it were his most prized food.

Without hesitation, you obeyed and moved with more confidence, allowing yourself to feel every touch, every pressure he generated as he held you with an almost painful firmness. Suddenly, his hands moved down from your hips to the base of your shirt and grabbed it with determination. In one fluid movement, he pulled the fabric up and removed it without hesitation.

The cool air hit your bare skin and it was such a sharp contrast to the heat of the room that it reminded you of how exposed you were in front of him. But Hinata didn’t stop there. With impressive dexterity, he found the clasp of your bra and opened it with a simple movement. The garment fell to the floor, leaving your skin exposed.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself, as his hands returned to your hips, making sure you didn’t break the rhythm he had set.

His lips returned to your neck, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin exposed before him, leaving marks, which for him are a direct way of claiming you in the sight of anyone. The whispered words of praise made your skin prickle and a shiver run through your body.

One of his hands settled on your back, pulling you towards him as he took one of your breasts between his lips. He gently tugged on your hard nipple with his teeth before rubbing it against his tongue, while his free hand pinched the other with a perfect mix of pressure and softness.

Your hips moved harder against him, seeking that perfect friction with each powerful thrust that made your body shudder with pleasure. Your head fell back, letting out moans and cries as his strong thigh repeatedly hit your clit and brought you to uncontrollable ecstasy.

“Hinata!” you screamed his name loudly, a desperate plea to climax. The movement of your hips grew faster and wilder, driven by a burning desire that consumed you. Your sensitive, swollen folds pressed against his thigh urgently, the juices of your arousal leaking from between them and soaking the fabric of his pants.

The pleasure was so intense that your words were jumbled together and coming out in incoherent babbles. His lips moved messily around your nipple, sucking and nibbling with deviously delicious skill while his other hand continued to torture the sensitive nub, making you even wetter than you already were. “Cum on my thigh,” he ordered you in a husky voice.

Your body was taken over by a loud moan that escaped your lips, dragging you into an orgasm that shook your entire being and made you tremble in Hinata’s arms. He stopped tending to your breasts, looking at you with desire as your watery eyes begged for his cock. But he wasn’t ready to give it to you yet, still wanting to see you come undone under his caresses before burying his member in your tight, wet hole.

“Please,” you begged, seeking his lips, but he stopped you with a firm hand holding your hair, keeping you in place. Hinata ran his tongue across your lips before gently tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. “No,” he said firmly, “You will be a good slut for me and take everything I have to give you.”

Hinata held your hips tightly and dropped you onto the bed, your back sinking slightly into the mattress as he stood in front of you. His eyes met yours for an instant, heavy with something beyond words, something raw, unadorned.

With quick, almost mechanical movements, he unbuttoned his shirt. Buttons came free one by one until the white fabric fell from his shoulders, sliding unceremoniously to the floor. He didn’t stop. His hands moved to his waist, undoing his belt and pushing the rest of his clothes away in a hurry, as if they were more of a nuisance than a prelude.

Each piece went to a different place in the room. The movements weren’t delicate or careful; they were impulsive, as if time wasn’t something he could afford to waste.

You watched him from the bed, motionless but expectant, following each movement with your eyes, analyzing, processing. There were no smiles or unnecessary gestures, just the immediacy of a shared moment, the silence being interrupted only by the sound of clothes falling to the floor.

When he was completely naked, Hinata stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy but controlled. There was a palpable tension in the air, not of tenderness, but of something more physical, more instinctive. Then he leaned towards you, his hands resting on the mattress on either side of your body, and let the next movement speak for itself.

With a determined movement, he took the wrinkled fabric of your skirt in his large hands and pulled it up, exposing your hips. The skirt was a work of art, too pretty to be carelessly removed.

His hands spread your legs, exposing your cute pussy to his view. His gaze rested on it with a mix of desire and admiration. “You have the most beautiful pussy,” he said in a deep, almost husky voice. His honesty was so direct that it left no room for doubt. “It’s like it was made to tempt me… always so perfect.”

One of his hands gently caressed the inside of your thigh, while he used two fingers to part your swollen folds and continue to enjoy the sight. Your pussy glistened with the moisture that continued to ooze out of it.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, and you were so sensitive from the recent orgasm that your hips pressed hard against the mattress in search of relief. But his firm hands wouldn’t let you close your legs. Suddenly, he slapped your pussy. The sound of your wet skin being slapped echoed throughout the room.

“I asked you to be a good slut for me,” he growls as two of his fingers plunge into your dripping hole up to the knuckles. Hinata’s touch didn’t stop; his pace, slow and deliberate at first, began to increase in intensity.

His skilled fingers moved with increasing speed, delving right into that sweet spot inside you that had your body arching almost immediately. His gaze remained fixed on your face, attentive to every sound, every movement you made. Your eyes fluttered shut instinctively, immersing you in a sea of ​​overwhelming sensations.

The change was instantaneous. You, who until then had maintained a fragile control, let out a stifled moan, followed by a succession of broken gasps that filled the room. Your body convulsed under Hinata's expert touches, while he continued to explore every corner of your being with his fingers and his burning gaze.

Your hands clung to the sheets with desperate strength, squeezing and twisting them between your fingers as they searched for something to anchor themselves to in the midst of ecstasy. The sheets gave way under your relentless grip, forming deep wrinkles where your strength marked them. The soft sound of the fabric tearing echoed in the room, mixing with your moans and sighs.

Moans and moans escaped your mouth in desperation, as you tried to pull your hypersensitive pussy away from Hinata's relentless movements. But he gave you no respite, he was determined to tear another orgasm from you. With each thrust, your inner walls tightened and unclenched in an endless dance, enveloping his fingers tightly. Hinata increased the pace of his movements, his fingers thrusting in and out with frantic speed, seeking out that sensitive area that made you shudder.

His curled fingers caressed and pressed against your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You can take it, you have a greedy pussy,” he murmured, urging you to give yourself over completely to the ecstasy that awaited you.

"Your rubbery walls clenched tightly against his fingers, as your hips curved away from the bed in a sensual arch. Your voice spilled over into cries, calling his name over and over as your legs shook uncontrollably.

You couldn't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure he was bringing you, the way he was finger fucking you so delicious it even hurt. "More, oh god," you moaned, your hand desperately reaching out to grab onto his wrist to find some support on him. "I need another, please," you begged desperately, because you knew two fingers would never be enough to match the feeling his fat cock was providing you.

Every single one of your moans and pleading words gave him the confirmation he wanted: you were completely lost in that moment, completely his. Hinata noticed the change in your breathing, his body beginning to shake with the unmistakable sign that you were close to climax.

You gasped, unable to keep yourself in silence, your moans increasing in volume and desperation. “No… please don’t stop…” you begged, gripping the sheets even tighter, completely lost in what he was doing to you.

Ecstasy exploded once again, a torrent of uncontrollable sensations flooding over you. Your walls clenched tightly around his expert fingers, as if they wanted to lose themselves in them forever. His every move was a symphony of pleasure, every touch an explosion of fire and passion. You couldn’t control the moans escaping your mouth, nor did you want to.

Gently, Hinata removed his fingers from your body and brought them to your lips. “Open your mouth and suck on them” was his command, and you obeyed immediately, tasting your own juices on his fingers. A moan escaped your lips at the feel of you on him. Hinata stepped away for a moment to rummage through his things until he found what he was looking for: a black tie. A smile spread across his face as he approached you with it in his hand.

“Come here,” he whispered, waiting for you. Without question, you walked over to him and climbed down from the bed until you were in front of his body. Hinata wrapped the soft fabric around you, covering your eyes. Firmly, he tied the tie around your eyes, securing it tightly, leaving you completely blind to what was to come. Your world instantly went dark, your other senses heightening. The sound of his breathing, the feel of the sheets, the feeling of your skin still warming from his touch.

“You can’t see now, but you will hear everything I do.” His voice was low, filled with absolute confidence, allowing you to feel safe next to him. “Now, get on your knees.”

With a mix of anticipation and submission, you complied immediately. Your body trembled slightly, unable to contain the excitement that coursed through your being. With your head slightly bowed and your hands resting on your thighs, you knelt before him. You could still feel your heart racing and the agitated exhale from everything you had already experienced up to that point.

“I want to taste you,” you said shamelessly, making clear your deepest desires. The thought of it alone made your mouth water. The boldness of your words made a cocky smile appear on Hinata’s lips, his gaze darkening as he took in the lust you emanated. One of your hands ran up his legs, wrapping around his hard cock greedily.

With a firm hand, you explore every vein and ridge of his cock, feeling the warmth and strength of his member against your palm. With your thumb, you playfully stroke the tip of his cock, feeling the precum leaking out onto your hand. Eager to taste him, you take a teasing lick along his length.

Hinata moves his hips against you in a rhythm that makes you crave more. Without a second thought, you take his member into your mouth, taking in as much as he can fit in while using your hand to circle what can’t fit in your mouth. You feel him tighten his grip on your hair as you bob your head up and down his length, stimulating his tip with your playful tongue.

With a sharp movement, Hinata began to thrust his hips into your mouth. His movements were quick and precise, hitting the back of your throat over and over as he gripped your hair tightly to keep you in place as he continued to fuck your throat mercilessly. His rough moans escaped between his parted lips, filling the air with a heady mix of lust and unbridled desire.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” His words were rough and raw, but his voice was filled with pleasure as he growled with each thrust. His hips moved in a frantic rhythm, thrusting back and forth in a constant cycle. His hands were firmly held onto your thighs, holding you up so you could keep up with the fluid motion of your mouth on him. Each sensation was intense and electrifying, making you wonder how you could last much longer.

With his mind clouded with desire, Hinata could only think of how good your warm, tight pussy would feel around his cock. He pulled his member out of your mouth, and with one swift movement, he pushed you off of him. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

“Get up,” Hinata ordered you huskily. He guided you towards the bed, waiting for you to climb in, and before you could turn around, he pushed your chest hard into the mattress, making it clear that he wanted to fuck you in doggy style. The tip of his cock slammed into your still sensitive pussy from his earlier ministrations, drawing an uncontrollable moan from you.

“Hinata!” you cried out loudly as you felt him thrust into you hard, his hips colliding with your raised ass cheeks for him. His hands held the swirling skirt at your waist to use as leverage to pull you into him with each thrust.

“You have the most exquisite pussy, baby. Fuck, you take me so well,” Hinata murmured between moans. One of his hands squeezed your ass and slapped it hard, while the other kneaded the sensitive skin. “Oh god, oh god, don’t stop,” you begged as pleasure took over your entire body.

A series of spanks echoed through the room, leaving red marks on your ass cheeks as Hinata thrust into you hard again and again. The steady rhythm of thrusting in and out of you made your skin crawl and your moans turned into screams of pleasure. Your inner walls clenched around him, refusing to let go. All you could think about was how well your husband was fucking you, his member pushing deep into your vagina and caressing your cervix, making you scream even louder.

Rebel tears fell onto the fabric of the tie tied to your eyes as you enjoyed each thrust. With one hand, you reached for your clit and stimulated it in circular motions, adding yet another layer of pleasure to your body.

You were sure that Hinata’s powerful hand would leave marks on your hips the next day, but that didn’t matter as he continued to pound you hard and passionately. Each crash against your inner walls made the sound of sloshing fill the room, and you clenched down harder seeking to milk him for all the pleasure possible.

“Please fill me,” you begged Hinata, moving your hips in rhythm with his and squeezing him even further inside you.

With one last thrust, Hinata let himself go and spilled inside you, filling you with his essence as you reached a climax so intense it left you shaking. Together, you lay there tangled in a mix of sweat and pleasure, until you finally caught your breath and broke apart to rest on the bed.

[afinestoutlove]

things i love about heartstopper 34/?

Okay so I know I said Tara and Nick are key to Paris Squad and I stand by it. But can I put forward for your consideration the delight that is Charlie Spring. People often seem to sideline Charlie (which is very weird given he's a main character) but he’s so important for so many reasons.

There’s a reason so much of the story revolves around Charlie, especially in the beginning - and not because he's an everyman audience stand-in!! He's a unique and powerful character in his own right. There’s a reason all his friends stuck with him when he was sick and absent - that’s so often not the case, especially at that age! There’s a reason Tao basically wanted to fight the world for him. There’s a reason Isaac tried to reach out to him. There’s a reason Elle painted that beautiful portrait of him.

“Well, I was friends with Charlie first, and Tao sort of came along as a package deal.”

There’s something in this line that’s so easy to skip over, but for Tao and Elle and Isaac and Nick, Charlie came first.

Tori talks in Solitaire about how the world isn’t a good place for people like Charlie, and she’s right. He’s sensitive, and kind, and hopeful, and despite his best efforts, so open and giving, and the world hurts him for it. But it’s also what brings him so much good. The saddest part of watching Charlie’s journey is knowing that all these people love him so much, for very very good reasons, and he can’t accept any of it for so long. He thinks the only way he can keep his friends is by sacrificing himself and making himself small (not necessarily physically, but by not having needs or feelings - but it makes sense that his OCD is linked to disordered eating), but what they love is all the ways he fails to do that.

You can see him starting to grow through S1 and 2, but seeing him start to really come into his own after ‘Winter’ is so fucking beautiful. His talks with Geoff, playing with the band, slowly becoming more confident in his body, standing up to his mum in a way that forces her to change and allows them to start building a healthy relationship, it’s all so good.

[dollya-robinprotector]

I’d still like to know what you consider copying if you’re willing to answer! ^_^

I just look back and realize you asked about "artstyle", which I don't really have an answer for. I believe artstyles are meant to be "adapted" and "improved" and there's nothing too definite to be called "copy artstyle" for those who genuinely want to learn. Ah, but there are still some shitty examples, so follow me down on this...

For example: Rei17, is known for being an absolutely massive A-hole and treating people like shit, but also a legend for having the most magical use of colors, lighting and composition, along with a perfect dynamic for anatomy.

That is to say: an "Artsyle" is made up of many elements. One cannot copy an artstyle if one can't copy everything that artstyle is made of, and that's a LOT of work, especially to copy a master of masters like Rei17. Instead, they mimic some fractions, that make things easier. But then that's not "copy artstyle" anymore, that's "copy concept", "copy color", "copy composition", etc... and suddenly it's not really very "copy" anymore because when we break it down, those fractions becomes "knowledge" that's really "learn-able":

For example: Turn out Rei17's color skill is a very clever use of color theory and by learning about it, many and many other artists can also use it so vividly, without even looking remotely like Rei17's "artsyle"

Taro-K from TamoTaro

Or you can have some cases who tried to mimic everything - the entire artstyle, and fail miserably. For example, this artist I know from some time ago:

left: copy works from that artist and right: original works from Rei17

above: copy works from that artist and below: original works from Rei17

Now, this is called traight-up copy too, I think you can see why:

left: copy work from that artist and right: original work from Rei17

this artist also copied Azling

and once again failed miserably because he lacked the knowledge and didn't understand the fundamentals behind the drawing :)

Now that I saw those messy lines without a horizon line or focal points again it indeed reminded me of something.... ah!

Now, joke aside, I honestly cannot give more insight into this problem since I'm not exactly too keen on just one artstyle myself. BUT I know it when someone learned from my "concept", "paneling", or shits like that, and especially my "designs".

I remember one time there was an artist, who appeared on tumblr dot com one day, and drew their Whitney with the exact choker tattoo I gave my Whitney, with the exact 4 little triangles on the side too. And when I reached out to them and said I was more than happy to let them use my design, but they needed to know the "lore" behind it, they admitted that they saw my drawings on the top tag and just thought it was a common thing, and despite my efforts to communicate, they never reply again, and then fade away with all their drawings......

Mystery...

Recently, I reached out to some artists I've noticed were kinda of copying or referencing my works, and to my relief, they all admitted their wrongs and were willing to make up for it. For example, when I put a drawing that references my work, side-by-side with my drawings like this, do you see the issue?

This case is not the only one, but it is the mildest of the conversations I have had in the past few days addressing almost the same issues. I've asked the artist for permission to use this drawing as an example of obvious referencing.

yup, they admitted they learned from my work but did not ask because they were "shy and afraid of asking because that would bother" me.

And to that, I say: "ALWAYS REACH OUT AND ASK FOR CONSENT FIRST". If you can ask, just ask. If given permission, wonderful! And if not, oh wew I just avoided upsetting my fav artist any further! Or if the artist doesn't respond: oh I should still be respectful and give them the credit. Do it, be respectful, and give credit to your source of learning because confrontation is never a nice thing to face.

And if you want to ask about copy and heavy ref in Designing, especially Character design, I think that'll have to be for another day because I'm so tired now U_U) I hope this post can clear up something and give someone who needs it some insights

And remember: ALWAYS ASK FOR CONSENT AND GIVE CREDIT!

[queernrrd]

"In 5-10 years" as if trans people just started popping up recently. Trans men have existed for a long time, and trans men on testosterone have been around for longer than 5-10. Years, believe it or not. There has not been a widespread death due testosterone use.

"It doesnt matter what any trans person says" uh oh! You said the quiet part out loud! That you don't care about trans people, you arent just looking out for confused people, it is just a group you hate. No data, no proof, no argument Will convince you it's a real thing, because *you don't want to believe it.* Simple as that.

The trans community is afraid of SOME cis people, they aren't afraid of women. Spend like more than 5 days scrolling through lgbT spaces (where trans people are included) and you'd see that they uplift "real women." We aren't afraid of you because you're a "real woman," we are frustrated that you weaponize your bad experiences to harm another marginalized group of people.

Dude, what are you TALKING ABOUT when you say we don't care about the legions of conservative men that hate us? Yes we do??? Why don't you realize that the same people who want to burn us want to burn you too? Trans women aren't anti-women, and trans-men aren't forced or trapped into it. Would you not agree that a trans woman who passes as cis and is treated like a cis woman is would experience misogyny as well?? It's a social construct, not inherent to biology. It isn't some magical constant. To genuinely believe trans women are anti-woman is just willfully ignorant. Which you admitted, with your little line of "nobody will convince me!!!" News flash, you sound exactly like the conservatives that hate both of us, because it's based in much of the same logic. You've just coated it with blue paint. But your immediate turn to fear mongering shows the true colors of the TERF crowd, people who call us "TIMs." Also, a woman looking me in the face and telling me they won't "go along with my shit" doesn't scare me, it saddens me. It saddens me if I'm not seen as a woman, it saddens me if I've done something genuinely wrong and I would want to try to fix it. You don't scare me because you're a cis woman "speaking up" against us, it scares me that you call this speaking up, when the vast majority of what you do is shout down.

With respect, whatever experience you've had with detransitioning, you are valid, but your experience doesn't invalidate trans people's experience. The data show that social outcomes are more positive in accepting environments for people with gender dysphoria, and that informed trans people who decide for themselves what is best for their lives are happier and more fulfilled. Any consistent trans advocate would accept detrans people as well, so I'm sorry if trans advocates in the past have given you shit for your experience. You made your choice and changed you mind later, which is completely valid! But we trans people also should have the right to make our own choices without being excluded from our own communities.

Who’s excluding you from your own community? Are you talking about LGB people who disagree with gender ideology? Lesbians and gay men don’t need to agree with transition. We have damn good reasons not to. If you’re same-sex attracted, I understand why being excluded or judged would hurt. But that doesn’t mean we have to stay quiet and not speak up about the harm that’s being done to members of our demographic.

People love to say that detransitioner’s experiences don’t invalidate transitioned people’s experiences, but they do a little, don’t they? We poke holes in the idea that everything about transition and your community is fine and dandy. We poke holes in the idea that medical transition is okay for your physical and mental health. We poke holes in the belief that gender dysphoria will never go away, that it can never be healed. We poke holes in the belief that there is a trans soul somewhere in your body that needs drastic hormonal and surgical correction.

We poke holes in your concept of who you are, and in your sense of peace with your choices. That’s why I get this same message, almost word for word, all the time.

When detransitioners talk about our real opinions and feelings about what we personally went through, you feel uncomfortable. But it’s not on us to shut up, it’s on you to figure out why we make you feel that way.

[chbvalentine]

4. SOMETHIN’ STUPID

song #4 of sometimes (a leo valdez x daughter of dionysus smau)

NOTE! i don’t know if I mentioned this in previous chapters, but y/n is female / uses she/her pronouns. also, there’s some writing in this chapter, so don’t skip past it!

Leo sat on his bed, waiting very impatiently for his friends to arrive. His palms were sweaty and his throat seemed to close up at the mere thought of confessing, but it hurt even worse when he pictured you dating somebody else. Why was he so nervous?! He had asked out plenty of girls before.

Although, none of them had ever said yes, but that was just a minor detail. Also, he had never been in love with any of them, and none of them had been his best friend for years. Whatever. Not important. The point was, he was practically a pro at talking to girls, so this shouldn’t stress him out at all. The sweat trickling down his forehead was probably the result of confidence, or something along those lines. 

“Leoooo! Open uppp!” The familiar voice of Percy echoed from outside the cabin as his fist repeatedly knocked on the door. Leo quickly jumped up, opening the door to reveal his three friends, all eager to help. He smiled, pausing momentarily, although it didn’t last long.

“C’mon! What are you doing just standing there?! We have a confession to write! Go, go!” Percy ushered himself in, Jason and Frank following behind. They immediately got to work, pulling out some paper and pens and brainstorming what to write. 

After what felt like forever, the final copy was written neatly on a piece of clean notebook paper and was sitting pretty on Leo’s desk, next to all of the scrapped versions that had been crumpled into paper balls. 

“Ow!” Leo yelped as Jason brushed his curls, trying to get him looking sharp for his grand declaration. “You can’t do that when my hair is dry!”

“Right, right. Sorry. I don’t really know how to do this,” Jason replied sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Let me see the brush!” Percy shouted, snatching it out of the blond boy’s hands. “Annabeth taught me how to work with hair like his. Leo, you just continue practicing your speech.”

He nodded and continued quietly reciting the clever lines, trying to get every word perfect. He was sitting in a chair in front of a floor-length mirror, with the three boys hovering behind him and fixing his appearance. Finally, Percy spoke up.

“We’re almost done. Text her and ask her to meet up in around ten minutes.”

Leo picked up his phone, opening your contact and sending a simple message while the boys peered over his shoulder to watch your responses. 

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry,” Jason broke the silence after reading your replies. Everyone just stared at the phone, absolutely gobsmacked. He had been too late. 

Tears welled up in Leo’s eyes as he looked up from the phone for the first time in minutes, staring at the speech that lay on his desk, practically mocking him. He swallowed his sadness back, trying to lighten the situation as if it didn’t just shatter his heart. 

“It’s no big deal! Hahaha, no biggie. There are plenty of other girls that love the bad boy supreme! All da ladies luv Leo, right?” He attempted to joke, frantically shoving the letter into his desk while the boys just stared with pity. 

“I don’t really care for her that much anyways! It’s fine! Everything’s fine!” Leo continued, throwing away the rough drafts and clearing away any evidence of his feelings. No one knew how to respond to his lies, so they remained silent as he freaked out.

“Okay then, fun hanging out with you guys! Bye!” The boys sent him confused glances as he practically shoved them out, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks as he smiled emptily.

“Wait-“ Frank started, but Leo was already shutting the door. The three stood on the porch awkwardly, wondering what the hell they should do. After a minute, they hesitantly walked away, coming to the conclusion that he needed some space for a minute. 

Gods, Leo hated himself right now. And he hated Cameron even more.

-

TAGLIST (comment on any post in this series asking to join if you want to be added!): @eclipse-777 , @thebestsetter ,

TRACKLIST // NEXT

[universaln0b0dy]

The chill new friend

p.o.v there is a new human student at R.A.D, but instead of trying to replace you they just make you loose your mind. (Accidentally)

(This is just a joke oneshot thingy cooked up at 12.00 pm, like one does. Also the new person is a female oc, with the name Diova. If you want you can change that, but I didn't want to just use a place holder like Notmc or something along the lines.)

The program had been widened to another student. Which isn't surprising because it did so well, you just didn't want to guide someone around. Okay no, you wanted to guide them around if they turned out to be nice.

Well, the day arrived and the new student -also chosen at random- was teleported to where you once stood.

Diavolo welcomed her, introduced her to the brothers and you, before you guy's said your names et cetera, everything went fairly well. Or so you thought.

DiovA looked at everyone held up her finger, excusing herself with the words: "Please give me a minute." Before fainting. All in all not that surprising, but you had the feeling that this could mean trouble.

Well it didn't. The new student was so quiet you occasionally forgot she existed and so did everyone else. You felt bad but it seemed like Diova had a habit of disappearing without a trace.

After the third week of getting spooked when she came out of her room you decided that you would start to hang out with her, maybe to ease your own mind. You've been appointed her guide after all.

Turns out that girl is introverted, much more than Levi. She didn't talk and just existed in her own space. But that lead to some very funny situations:

Satan:

This what has been engraved into your memory as "the cat-cident". It's no secret that he loved cats, so every time he came across a stray he would look to the side once or twice before petting it.

Well, one particular cat was a regular with Satan, they even had a set time when he would give them food. One day you were dragging Diova by the sleeve to make sure you wouldn't loose her again in the crowd. (You never actually lost her, she just went *poof*)

Along the way you came across Satan and the both of you started talking. Until he looked for the cat and you at the exchange student. Both were gone. And this time not in the "ohoho I didn't see you but you were right behind me" type of way, no, both ceased to exist.

That caused you to fall into mild crisis, because you lost a student. In hell. Not just any place. Fucking hell. Great place to loose a person in.

Okay, you didn't loose her, she walked away but you felt like you did. Satan wasn't that bothered by the cats disappearance, cats tend to so that. But he also understood your panic about the exchange student, so the both of you started searching.

For two hours.

You were hyperventilating and on the verge of tears, probably a mild over reaction, but it was one of the most frustrating searches ever. You and Satan had turned over every single stone and asked every person in sight if they had seen her only to be met with a very confused: "Who are you talking about?" Even classmates couldn't remember her.

Satan rubbed soothing circles on your back, noticing your distress. "Don't worry Mc, we will find her." You sighed heavily, realising you probably needed more help with the search. You leaned onto/against Satan for support, grumbling out some frustration.

"I feel like I completely failed as a guide." You mutter, before noticing that Satan shook his head. "Not at all, you did your best and it's not your fault she just left." He nudged you softly. "I would be a lot less patient with someone who is constantly disappearing."

You chuckle/laugh half hearted. "I wouldn't doubt it, you can be a ticking time bomb." It was funny to see how this joke would have had dire consequences at the start of your exchange, but now? With all these adventures Satan would laugh with you.

"I guess we better call Lucifer?" You ask and Satan reluctantly agrees. Before a rather quiet voice asks: "Why? Did something happened?"

You turned around, and there she stood, the stay cat sitting next to her purring contentedly.

A bunch of emotions wash over you, one one end relieve on the other anger. "Where have you been? We searched all other the campus for you!" You ask like a parent that caught their child sneaking out.

Diova looks a bit confused. "I noticed that the cat had some dirt on it's fur so I cleaned that up, only to realise that I forgot something in the alchemy lab. I went to grab it and got back here only to notice both of you were gone." She knits her brow. "But you should now about this, I wrote you a message."

You look at your device only to realise to realise that you forgot to turn on the connection. "And all this time I thought you turned into air!" You cry out half laughing half crying.

Now that it was reconnected to the hell equivalent of wife you saw a bunch of different messages.... from Lucifer.

That would be a fun evening.

The second incident was with Beel.

You had again been on refrigerator protection duty, forced to turn Beel away at his attempts of sneaking food from the kitchen. (We ignore the sandwich you'd smuggle here and there).

Beel came, at about 9pm like clockwork and you both reminisced about life for a few minutes. That's just how it was, like it's own personal routine. If there hadn't been the ghost in the dark hallway.

At first you only noticed it fleeting, it was running around the hallway. It could have been Mammon running away from Lucifer, but then he would have run to you... right? Or did he have a better hiding spot?

You were happy with it until the figure ran by a second time. This time even Beel noticed it and he immediately knew that he didn't know who that was, or what it was.

Now the situation got spooky. For you at least. Beel looked pretty calm. Though it could also just be his resting unexpressive face. You and him decide to check out the noise to see what's going on.

There is indeed a figure running around, only ever stopping shortly, before disappearing around a corner and then showing up again. Something swishing after them like a Cape.

It was almost as if it was a ghost floating around. But that couldn't be was it an intruder? That was unlikely, but still an unconscious doubt settled in your mind.

And then it came back, halting infront of you and Beel. He protectivly extends his arm and you grab it, as if you could throw it should whatever attack.

But it wasn't an whatever. It was Diova, in hoodie and baggy trousers, a blanket over her head. She was holding onto some objects and looked almost a bit embarrassed.

"Oh my Diavolo, you scared me! What were you doing?" You ask confused and she just holds up some beads.

"What are those?" You ask a bit confused. She shuffles her feet looking to the floor like a kid that was just caught breaking a vase. "I tried a summoning spell on my bracelet..." She sighed heavily.

"It broke and the beads teleported into the dining room."

You nod following along, before looking at the beads. Didn't you make a similar mistake once? "Let me guess now the beads must be transported separately or they just disappear again?"

Well the ghost problem was also just a misunderstanding it seemed. You and Beel helped her transport the beads to her room later on and you explained to her what went wrong when she casted the spell.

......

You and her sit in your room. You both got along quite well after a while and you noticed that she didn't disappear into thin air like you thought at first. She was just really quiet and timid in everything she did.

She sits on one of the many chairs in the room you had thanks to the suprise visits of the brothers, playing with her now fixed bracelet. Before looking at you.

"Thank you for being my friend, Mc." You look at her, that sounded strange. Her tone, not the words. "You don't need to thank me for that, but why are you saying that? It sounds like you will go away some time soon?" You ask a bit confused.

Diova smiled. "Did you know the origin of my name?" She asks, dodging your question. Your a bit taken off guard but say what you assume.

She shakes her head. "Its a great idea, but it's actually Avoid, just backwards." She looks a bit sad. "It's been pretty prophetic for me. I've always been the odd one out, no matter where." She shrugged. "So people tend to avoid me."

She flashes you a smile. "I thought it would be the same here.... but you made an effort befriending me." She looks back to the floor. "It's kinda sad to think that all of this is just a dream. "

Her words knock the wind out of your lungs. "What do you mean? Are you feeling okay?" But Diova just smiles sadly giving you a tight hug. You hadn't even noticed she stood up from the chair.

"Thank you for our friendship, even if you are waking up now." The girl mumbled and then you hear it. Your alarm ringing off in the distance.

......

You shoot awake and can't help but stare at the wall for a while. It's as if your brain can't grasp the fact that Diova didn't exist.

No, you wouldn't believe this.

You stand up and look around for pictures. But there are none. You look at the calendar to check the date only to realise... in the dream there hadn't been a consistent date. Only what you assumed was one.

It took an hour and a half for you to grasp that you had dreamt up a whole new friend. She had felt, looked and sounded so real! But she wasn't.

You hear a knock on your door. It Mammon. Before he can say anything you just pull him into a hug. You needed one Oh so desperately, because the dream hurt. And what hurt even more was that already, you were starting to forget.

Forget a fellow friend.....

[jetblack4realz]

tapped out - kayce dutton

summary - kayce went off to become a navy seal and since him and his dad weren't on good terms, you and lee were the only ones there to tap him out at graduation

also, i know the navy doesn't do the whole "tapping out" thing, but just bear with me, it's cute

word count - 1.3k, short but sweet

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it had been a long fifteen weeks without him. ten for regular basic, and then just as you thought you were gonna see him again he told you he was gonna be a seal. you were proud of him, but a bit pissed you had to go another month without seeing him.

there was a strange atmosphere at the ranch with him gone. given the option, you'd chosen to stay on to help rip, lee, and lloyd, even with how frustrated you were with the patriarch of the household and even with how frustrated he was with you. but, you didn't have much else to leave to without kayce and you knew that if you did, there wasn't a chance in hell he would ever return to the ranch.

it was weird to be there without him though. it was weird for everyone.

"i miss you," you said, holding the phone to your ear as you leaned up against the wall beside your bed. "a lot. the ranch sucks without you."

"the ranch sucks period," he sighed into the phone, but you could still hear the slight smile in his voice. "i miss you too, baby. only a few more weeks and i'm out of this place."

"and then onto a battlefield in the middle of afghanistan or iraq," you muttered.

"but, i'll see you before then," he reminded. "and i'll be able to talk to you more then."

"silver linings, i guess," you sighed. "i'm proud of you, kayce. you're doing something real good there. i just wish it didn't have to be so far and so damn dangerous."

"i know, but i'm good at dangerous."

"you're good with guns," you told him with a light laugh. "i don't think that's the same thing."

"here it is."

you didn't really know what to say to that, so you didn't. "just be safe, okay? i know you will be and i know it's redundant to say that, but i've just gotta say it."

"i'm not even out on the field yet, darlin'," he laughed.

"still," you said, smiling lightly at the sound of his laugh.

"hey, i love you. i gotta go now, but i love you. so much."

"i love you too, kayce. with my whole heart."

while he was in training, you were only able to talk to him a handful of times and you were counting down the days until you could actually see him again. as soon as you were told the day of graduation, you bought the plane tickets to illinois and told lee to pack.

when you got there you were directed to a set of bleachers and soon the ceremony began. you leaned to the side, lee glancing over at you with a laugh as you tried to look through the rows of navy seals.

"you ain't gonna find him from up here, you know," he told you, smiling as you continued anyways.

"what else do you expect me to do? i ain't seen him in almost four months, lee, i gotta find him," you answered, shooting him a look before continuing your search.

he shook his head at you as he turned his attention back to the speakers, you keeping yours on the thankfully organized columns of soldiers. it was a few minutes before you finally spotted him, breathing in sharply as an instant smile pulled at your lips. "got him."

you were more antsy after you'd found him, wishing the variety of speakers would finish up quicker so you could see your favorite person again. as soon as they did finish, as long as it took them, you were out of your seat faster than lee could even comprehend. he groaned, jumping up and following you down through the crowd of the equally excited people.

"dude, wait up!"

as soon as you were on the floor, you realized you had no clue where to start. from up at your seat you knew exactly where he was, but now that you were down here being pushed along by the sea of excited families, you just hoped you were heading in the right direction.

lee caught up to you pretty easily, his hand on your shoulder as he followed you through the lines of soldiers. "you know where he is?"

"not anymore," you muttered, eyes scanning along the lines as you veered right. "i think he's up here. close to the back."

"if you say so," lee sighed with a shrug, maintaining his hold on your shoulder in order to stay close and keep up.

you continued through the lines, suddenly frustrated that they weren't allowed to break away and find their families themselves too. though, it was probably better that at least one of the parties stayed put to better find one another. you couldn't imagine how antsy kayce was waiting for y'all, unable to move until you did. the thought only made you move faster, lee stumbling behind you trying to keep up.

"oh my gosh," you muttered under your breath, breaking out into a sprint as you weaved in between soldiers and families.

a grin broke out on your lips as you neared him, stoic as he had to be, before you launched yourself into his arms, your own wrapping tightly around his neck as you heard him sigh into you, lifting you a bit off your feet as you clung to you tightly.

"hey darlin'," he mumbled into your hair, pressing a kiss to your neck as he tucked his face there. your hands ran through the now short hair at the back of his head, keeping him close to you as you breathed out a happy laugh.

"hi baby," you said. you pulled away, your hands on his neck as you cradled his face. you kissed him quickly, kayce giving in immediately as he held you tightly to him. you pulled back just to hug him again. "goodness, i missed you."

"i missed you too, doll," he mumbled, kissing your cheek as he patted your hair down. "so damn much."

you suddenly realized that lee was likely standing behind you, watching this whole scene unravel and you pulled away, hand sliding down his arm as you stepped back to reveal his older brother. you glanced at the oldest dutton with a sheepish smile.

"sorry, lee," you laughed lightly, a small blush on your cheeks as he laughed at you, shaking his head.

"no need, i'm sure he's happier to see you than me," he answered before turning to kayce and enveloping in a hug. "hey, bro."

"hey, lee," kayce mumbled, hugging his favorite brother back. when they broke, he offered him a smile. "thanks for coming."

"no where i'd rather be," lee answered simply. there was an unspoken apology in his eye for their father not being there, but you all knew why and you all knew it was probably better that he wasn't.

you quickly tucked yourself into kayce's side again, hugging him tightly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "i love you."

"i love you too, baby," he said. he smiled as he looked back up at lee. "come on, let's get out of here. get some food."

"yes please," you said, laughing as he began pulling you out of the hall. he grabbed your hand tightly, keeping you close to him as lee followed behind, shaking his head and laughing to himself as you pressed yourself into his side, kayce not minding in the least as he held you close to him.

"kids," he mumbled to himself, following y'all out to the truck with a happy smile on his face.

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thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[yuri-is-online]

re: what leona said about trey

yall sometimes you gotta realize a character's perception of things is not the reality of it, especially when they have their own issues which make it harder to accept the truth

If leona recognizes trey doesn't have ulterior motives, that means accepting people really CAN be childhood friends (which means accepting Leona himself... doesn't really have any)

Leona is extremely perceptive but the way he words things isn't always... polite. Personally the way I see what he said in re manipulation of Riddle as accurate in practice but not in motive.

Trey and Cater are manipulating Riddle, and this does give them power. Now, their reasons for doing it are so he doesn't flip his lid and ruin things for everyone, but a guy like Leona doesn't really care about that. I'd imagine his opinion is something along the lines of "Riddle needs to learn how to not piss people off without the safety barrier Trey and Cater provide" which is true! But... well let me put it like this. Vil gets on Trey for being too lenient and always trying to make everyone happy because he sees it as him being too nice. Leona is the opposite, he sees Trey as a manipulator who is only being "nice" because it gets him social credit at the cost of his leader's credibility.

They are both kind of right while also being wildly wrong, and it's very much down to the fact neither of them have childhood friends. It's sort of funny to think about it from the prospective of Leona just hating Trey though... maybe he told him to brush his teeth one too many times lol