#which made her realize I’m not leaving her

[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.”

[scoupsakakitty]

A Beat of Fate | idol!Woozi x idol!Reader | fluff

Y/N stood nervously in front of the door to Pledis Entertainment’s famous recording studio. Today was a big day—her first session with Woozi, Seventeen‘s talented producer and singer. She had arrived a few minutes early, unsure if that was a good or bad thing. After taking a deep breath, she knocked gently.

No answer.

Slowly, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her eyes widened at the sight before her, mixing boards, flashing buttons, and glowing screens filled the room. It was like stepping into another world.

She couldn’t resist walking closer, her fingers itching to touch something. That’s when she saw them, a pair of headphones resting on the desk. Curiosity got the best of her. She looked around once more to make sure no one was there, then carefully put them on.

Pressing the play button, she was immediately hit by a smooth, catchy beat. It was impossible to stand still. Her head began to nod, her shoulders moved, and soon she was dancing softly to the rhythm. She didn’t even notice her smile growing wider as the music wrapped around her.

What she didn’t realize was that Woozi had arrived moments after her. He stood at the door, arms crossed, silently watching. A small smile tugged at his lips as he saw her lose herself in the music. There was something about her energy, her carefree movements, that completely captivated him.

Then it happened…Y/N spun around and froze.

She ripped off the headphones, her face turning red. “I-I’m so sorry!” she stammered, bowing deeply. “I didn’t mean to touch anything! I just—”

Woozi laughed, holding up his hands. “It’s okay. Really. I’m glad you liked it. Watching you dance to it was actually pretty cool.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait… you’re Woozi.”

“That’s me,” he said with a grin. “And you must be Y/N?”

She nodded quickly, still flustered. “Yes, that’s me. I’m really sorry again. The beat was just so good—I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m happy to see someone react like that to my work. It means a lot,” he said.

She let out a small laugh, the tension finally easing. “I’ve actually been a fan of Seventeen for a while. I’m not a Carat, but I listen to your songs a lot.”

“Oh? Which ones?”

“I really like ‘Home’ and ‘Adore U.’ They’re on my playlist all the time.”

Woozi’s eyes lit up. “Good choices. Those are some of my favorites, too.”

They shared a smile before Woozi gestured toward the recording booth. “Ready to get started? I can’t wait to hear your voice.”

Y/N nodded eagerly. “Let’s do it!”————————————————————————————-The session was going well. Y/N’s voice fit perfectly with the melody Woozi had created, and every take felt stronger than the last.

At one point, they took a break, and Y/N sat down beside him on the couch. She flipped through her notebook, reading over the lyrics carefully and mouthing the words to herself.

Woozi leaned back in his chair, intending to check his phone, but instead, his eyes drifted to her.

She looked so focused, her brows furrowed slightly as she studied each line. She tapped her pen against the edge of the notebook and occasionally whispered a lyric under her breath, testing how it sounded. Her hair fell softly around her face, and the faint glow of the studio lights made her features look even more delicate.

Woozi couldn’t stop staring.

There was something about her.. something effortlessly beautiful and calming. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but she still managed to leave him completely mesmerized.

Suddenly, Y/N looked up and caught him staring.

Her eyes widened. “What? Is something wrong?”

Woozi blinked and quickly sat up straighter. “No! Nothing’s wrong.”

She tilted her head, clearly not buying it. “Then why were you looking at me like that?”

He hesitated, then smiled softly. “I guess I was just… admiring how focused you are. You look so natural here, like this is where you’re meant to be.”

Y/N’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked down at her notebook with a shy smile. “That’s… really sweet of you. Thank you.”

Woozi grinned. “It’s not just sweet. It’s the truth.”

She gave a quiet laugh and turned her attention back to her lyrics, but Woozi kept stealing glances at her. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t look away.

The rest of the session flew by. Woozi continued to be impressed by her voice and professionalism, and they found themselves laughing and chatting between takes.————————————————————————————-By the end of the day, Woozi couldn’t ignore the feeling growing inside him. He liked being around her more than he expected.

“Y/N,” he said as she packed up her things, “I had a great time working with you today. Would you maybe… like to grab dinner sometime? I’d really like to keep talking with you.”

Y/N paused, surprised, but then smiled brightly. “I’d like that a lot.”

They exchanged numbers, and as she headed toward the door, she turned back and gave him a little wave. “Thanks again for today. I’ll see you soon.”

Woozi stood there long after she left, a grin spreading across his face.

Wow.————————————————————————————-

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Hello! Me again! Ok, I saw this on a post however I can’t remember who originally asked for this prompt that got denied but I’m gonna write what I remember.

So the request was Human’s have been gone for a very long time, i think it was like hundreds of years or something

Anyway apparently one day Sonic, Shadow, Silver are in a unexplored area and get caught in a trap and out pops a female human child. The last of her kind, how do the boys react?

Cuz this is kinda a HUGE deal.

this took awhile lol but thank you for the ask it’s a really interesting concept, anyway silvers is shorters than the others mainly because I actually don’t know much about him regardless if I’ve been a fan for years.

As long as we’re together 

Sonic, Shadow, and Silver x human child reader (separate and platonic)

———————————————————————

Sonic

Now this wasn’t something he had expected when he went on his daily run. 

This part of town was usually isolated, just nature from that point on forward. Which is why this place was unnatural. 

He hadn’t noticed at first, but someone’s doohickeys were definitely out to get him.

Having to dodge and swerve many close calls. He was surprised it was making him break a sweat. But ofc, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Quickly disarming many traps and setting them off for good, they were many of these things.. but, they had no logo.

Definitely not eggman’s then. Then who’s could it be?

Looking around, trying to find anything, there was nothing more than the usual. Oh, and the traps of course.

In fact he was considering that whoever left these had indeed left them for good.

Just when he was about to run off again he heard a creak. Tilting his head towards the source, he could feel his ears twitch.

someone was there.

They took small breaths and clearly made barely any movements. Taking slow steps forwards, creeping toward them he hears their breath fasten before abruptly stopping.

Speeding behind them, leaving dirt the air, he saw a tiny creature. They tripped forward from the impact.

Tbh he couldn’t see them to good thanks to all the dust he lifted. But that didn’t stop him from reaching out his hand towards them.

Finally having a hold of them, the saw face to face… those big eyes, facial structure,… and small body.

It was a human….a.human.child.

They didn’t blink once, breath halted in fear with tears threatening to spill. They were scared.

Quickly pulling a smile, trying to make them feel safe as positive he whispered to not startle you. “hey little one.”

You’re breath still a bit fast paced, but you were no longer cowering. That’s good. It means you’re warming up.

After finding out you were on your own out here he had already decided to take you. 

Though it seemed you had different plans. Clearly escaping every time you were almost in his grasp. He had to give you credit, you clearly knew how to use the forest to your advantage.

It’d take time to get your trust so he had to leave eventually, but he’d visit you every time he could. Bringing food, some games, and from time to time his friends like tails.

For a fast lived guy, he didn’t mind taking his time with you. Knowing you might be the last he was going to make sure you’d continue on.

———————————————————————

Shadow

One of the sad things about being an immortal was the immortality itself. 

Times were a lot different from back then. 

After everyone had officially slept in the forever slumber he decided it was worthless to make any connections again.

But, maybe.. he should’ve made more time for the humans. He never thought he’d see the day when they were no longer around.

It broke him to even think about it.

Was he truly alone on this planet now? The thoughts have eaten him up various times by now.

That’s why when he first encountered you he thought he was hallucinating. Especially since you were a child. He must have really missed Maria if his own brain was this cruel.

Only until he feels a small hand holding his own does he realize you’re not made up. You’re real. And he’s crying. 

Pulling you into a hug. Craving physical affection, company, and comfort. He hold you close, taking in all your warmth, and you do the same, your small arms wrapping around him.

Almost as if you understood the exact pain he was feeling.

He doesn’t know where you came from, or why you’re here, but he’ll be damned to let you go on your own.

He was going to make sure your tiny life was the best with him around now.

———————————————————————

Silver

The future was strange to say the least. Thanks to traveling back in time it was much better than what it used to be.

But one thing he noticed different from the the now to the past was the fact humans were no more.

He was indeed surprised, glad to have been able to meet some the few times he’s been in the past.

Which os why from the moment he met you he bombarded you with questions. Your small brain couldn’t keep up. 

Regardless, he was determined to be a good guardian for you when he found out you were completely alone.

In fact, he’s so serious about it. He even went back to the past to know how to take better care for you and bring you some stuff like food and toys.

He was prepared to do anything if it meant you’d live a long healthy life, as it should have been.

———————————————————————

masterlist

[sillystarwrites]

You ever play Hell Divers? If not how would the TADC cast react to a reader who is super willing to get whatever objective they're given done....no matter the cost, which includes running into danger without a care in the world, getting ragdolled or hurt but still willing to do Caines assignment and overall being a super loyal idiot.

A/N: no clue what helldivers is but I LOVEEE this idea!!!!!! :D

Type: I’ll add this later I’m tired

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🎩Caine🎩

☆He’s overjoyed, honestly

☆ having someone, ANYONE enjoy his adventures is a dream come true

☆ especially after ep 3

☆ he probably begins to make more dangerous/risky adventures, taking note that you seem to enjoy the risk

☆ he literally doesn’t realize how dangerous it is for you and the others

☆ you can’t exactly get hurt, but you’re probably hella sore and in pain from the adventures 

☆ mans does not care, as long as somebody has fun he’s HERE FOR IT!!!

☆ loves you tho, your feedback is the first (and only) he goes for after adventures cause you’re the only one w/ good feedback

☆ anyway you’re his bestie. Can’t speak for you, but you are to him

♟️Kinger♟️

☆ typically he never pays too much mind to it, but he’s never seen someone so dedicated 

☆ sure, when he first entered, he tried to get the adventures done too, but not to this point

☆ he’s especially concerned when you immediately bolt in after him to get gangles mask in the mildenhall manor

☆ you barely even care, or notice Angel and the other freaks, dragging him along quickly.

☆ tried to warn you about the hall but you immediately ran down…and got possessed

☆ it was horrifying, to say the least

☆ he had to beat you with the gun, but at least the possessor was gone

☆ you barely even took a break, about to run down to try again and he forced you to sit

☆ when he tells you about Queenie, you’re empathetic but then immediately are like “okay but we gotta go, cmon.”

☆ he’s a bit…hurt, to say the least, but understands. He also wants to leave as soon as possible

☆ when you two make it back, you realize you somehow forgot Gangle’s mask.

☆ you attempt to find a way back to get it, but Caine brings you all back before that can happen

💜Jax💜

☆ he thinks it’s funny to be honest

☆ you get easily frustrated too, so he’s gonna bother you the WHOLEEEEE time if he can

☆ but you also just carried him like a briefcase on one adventure, just to annoy him back 

☆ he made gangle drive on the candy canyon adventure because he knew you’d want to

☆ gangle would’ve handed it over to when you protested, but Jax stopped that from happening 

☆ he couldn’t bug you as much as he’d liked to at Spudsy’s since the, y’know, ‘employee training’

☆ but he tried to anyway, you just shooed him off

☆ he was almost impressed by your work ethic.

☆ key word almost, because it mostly pissed him off

☆ anyway, seeing you go so far as to somehow injure yourself on adventures was hilarious to him

☆ all he had to do was convince you it’d help, and you’d do it

☆ even if it accidentally hurt the others

☆ he’s also really annoyed how you’re basically Caine’s favorite 

☆ like really?

☆ he’d poke at you about it though, just to annoy you

☆ but maybe sometimes he does get worried after adventures when you don’t even stay for whatever reward there could be

☆ he’d never admit that he’s worried, but you get the point 

🧸Ragatha🧸

☆ do something barely even risky and watch her PANIC

☆ she is worried from the get-go

☆ like during the gloink adventure, did she literally watch you try and wrestle a goddamn gloink WTH

☆ or in the candy kingdom, where you’re ready to jump into the chocolate 

☆ she has to hold you back A LOT

☆ like a lot a lot

☆ you also insisted on taking care of her during the spudsy’s adventure

☆ you did crash out at a customer so you still got a B+ though

☆ anyway, she does appreciate that you try your best on every adventure

☆ she hates that you put yourself at risk though

☆ she checks on you a lot, especially after the mildenhall manor adventure 

☆ she’s seen you get overly beat up in other adventures a lot, which always scares her

🎡Pomni🎡

☆ you scare her, honestly 

☆ she can’t tell if you’re so dead-set because you mess with people, or because you’re just determined 

☆ either way, it’s concerning

☆ despite the few adventures she’s been on, she’s seen how risky you can get

☆ she doesn’t like it at all

☆ you also seem to get really competitive, so she doesn’t get in the way

☆ when you’re not on adventures, you seem nice, but she’s still a bit scared of you

☆ you’re hyper and a go-getter, neither of which she feels that comfortable around

☆ once again, not that she doesn’t like you, just she’s really intimidated 

☆ I feel like someone like reader would just be desperate to escape, thinking if they tried hard enough they’d be free. Maybe they’re just so desperate and scared it’s the only way they can think of

☆ if Pomni is met with this revelation, she’d try to help in some way

☆ even if it’s not much, she could talk with Gummigoo, Kinger, and tried with Gangle, so the least she can do is try for you too

☆ even after the talk, you’re still just as persistent and idiotic, but at least she tried

🔶Zooble🔶

☆ deadass, they hate you

☆ they think you’re a total suck-up to Caine

☆ on the few adventures they were forced on, they’ve seen you get thrown, kicked, or flung a few dozen times

☆ they tried not to laugh

☆ key word tried!!!!

☆ they still don’t like how peppy you get, dragging them with

☆ they’ve lost more limbs than they can count

☆ they think it’s cool that you’re so dedicated, but oh my lorddd does it irritate them

☆ they still don’t like you

☆ you seem to try your best, but that’s too much

☆ they just don’t like you

☆ what’s the point of trying so hard if you’re just gonna get so injured?

☆ it’s annoying.

🎭Gangle🎭

☆ honestly, you scare her

☆ you remind her of Jax, just a bit less ill intented

☆ she mainly appreciates you during the spudsy’s episode, as you’re not violently dead set on doing…whatever

☆ during the mildenhall manor adventure, she is also a bit amused at your dedication to getting her mask, but more worried than anything.

☆ like Pomni, she’s not exactly comfy around you, but doesn’t hate you either.

☆ in your fits of bolting after the goal, you have probably tripped on her several times and broke her mask on accident 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: sorry that it’s so short, and this took so long 😭 I’m really tired rn

[rainsiide]

Page 𝐓𝐖𝐎: Chemistry

in which you find yourself a brand new student at southland all girls academy. and you also find yourself in a love triangle with polar opposite of students, yu jimin and ning yizhuo. wit masterlist

warning you! slight mentions of nudity (not nsfw), first jimin & ning interaction! slight vulgar language

whatever it takes: the series. / wc: tba

today marks two weeks of your time at the academy. you had somewhat found your place and made some friends outside of isa’s strange group. your classes were decent, your classmates were nothing but friendly, and so were the teachers.

now here you were, sitting in class next to the girl you met on the first day of class. she had offered you the seat when you walked in the first day. her name was jeon heejin, or heejin. you had found a liking to her because she was so nice to you.

she was a more popular person, everytime you had been with her, someone always stopped her in the hallways to talk to her. you didn’t know if it was annoying or not, but you opted to stop walking with her if it meant you would be stop being stopped every step you took down the hallway.

“what class do you have now?” isa had asked you as you exited the lunchroom. most of the time she had asked because she would walk you if it was the same way. “gym.” you told her. you didn’t really find joy in going to gym. you didn’t know anybody except a occasional face but nobody you knew personally. isa nodded and you guys started your way to gym. by now you had gotten accustomed to your schedule, and your way to classes.

you were then outside the locker room doors with isa. you both talked for awhile before she waved you off. hoping the teacher wouldn’t lock her out of the class for being late. soon after you went into the locker room and opened your locker. more girls were leaving than coming in so you knew you were on a time crunch. unlocking your locker, you pulled out the gym uniform and a pair of tennis shoes. taking off the tie, and buttoning down your shirt. taking them off and slipping on the gym uniform shirt. then slipping off the dress shoes and skirt and sliding up the mesh shorts they gave you.

you folded up your uniform for when you came back and closed the locker. just before you were about to leave you realized you didn’t put your uniform shoes in the locker. mentally cursing yourself out you hurried to open back up the locker. hoping the teacher hadn’t started attendance yet.

“can i get by? my lockers right there.” you heard a voice ask. “i’m about to i’m sorry— i forgot to put something in here!” you said, not even looking up as you unlocked the locker. shoving your shoes in and closing the door and snapping the lock back.

your fingers slightly burned from how fast you moved. looking over to see the dark red haired girl looking at you, yu jimin, you didn’t know if her face said she was weirded out or what. you definitely couldn’t tell if it was good or not.

“um, it’s okay.” she said, her voice monotoned. you had moved out her way. since when was she in your gym class? maybe she was skipping a lot, or maybe you just didn’t pay attention. but how could you miss a face like that? whatever. you had a class to get to.

leaving the gym room you had found yourself in line with the rest of the girls. attendance had started to happen and you raised your hand to make the teacher aware of your presence. you paid no mind to anyone as you listened to the rest of the names had been called. then she reach yu jimin. who happened to be there by the time she got to her name.

todays workout was gonna be a test, well a series of tests over a few days, today was gonna be one for the 40 minutes of class. a sit up test you had no faith in. not because you were unathletic but just because last time you did one, your abdomen was in pain for a week after. the teacher told you to choose partners, which was basically your worst nightmare. you knew quite literally nobody in this class besides jimin, and even that was pushing it. you watched as everyone walked around to get partnered with someone, and you sat cluelessly. jimin didn’t move either, maybe she didn’t know anybody either. this was awkward.

“can you be my partner for this?” you heard her all to familiar voice. you looked up to her, looking at her eyes through her bangs.

“yeah, sure.”

now here you were with your back on a mat. her hands on your ankles, stabilizing you. it felt awkward and weird. seeing her pretty face every time you lifted up your top half. you only got about twenty sit ups before tapping out. she didn’t really say anything, releasing your ankles and waiting for the last two girls to finish so you could switch. switching to her on the mat now, you loosely put your hands on her ankles and she did her own sit ups. viewing her face every time. pretty even when sweating. she gave out at about twenty five. you weren’t really paying attention to it, releasing her ankles.

back in the locker room she (jimin) wasn’t there. you hurried up and changed back to your uniform for last period and put up your gym uniform and sneakers. fixing the button up and skirt. you exited the locker room to see isa waiting for you. she greeted you as you both started your way off to your last periods of the day. she told you some funny thing that had happened in violin class with jiheon. and you both laughed the way down the hallway, maybe a little to loud. she dropped you off at chemistry class and you took a seat next to heejin.

you both talked a little before the teacher quieted the classroom down. taking out a notebook and pen you followed along with what she had to say. going over some things you couldn’t get a grip on. during the end of class she passed out a page of homework that didn’t look that bad. heejin looked absolutely flabbergasted at what was on the page. “did you understand any of this?” she questioned, as if it was ancient. you nodded offering to help her with it.

“can you come to my dorm? i really need help with this.” she asked, practically begging, and chemistry was not really her strong suite anyways. you agreed as the class was dismissed and she gave you her room number. going back up to your dorm, you unlocked the door to see isa and giselle. giselle was at your dorm more often than not, she might as well have lived there. you greeted both of them before going into your bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

“where are you going?” isa asked, she wasn’t trying to be invasive, she just wanted to know where you were just to be safe.

“my classmates room, heejin. she wanted some help with chem work.” you responded. she smiled and nodded as you left the room. you had went up another flight to the third story of rooms. walking down the hallway, you had reached the room number. knocking twice as you waited. waiting patiently the door unlocked and opened, to who was not heejin?

“who are you?” she said quite blandly. she clearly wasn’t expecting you.

was this the wrong room number? she had the face of a cat. a pretty one, even stunning most would say.

“um, y/n.. im here to study with heejin.” you said awkwardly.

“oh. you’re y/n.” she added no context to what that meant, and you didn’t bother to pry. she moved out the doorway to let you in and you saw heejin sitting at the coffee table, her legs crossed with headphones on. you thanked the girl and walked over to heejin, hitting her with your knee. eyes shooting up at you. she took off her headphones shocked to you, like she didn’t invite you over.

“how’d you get in?” she asked as you took a seat next to her. you told her about her roommate answering the door for you. and she clearly didn’t know you were coming.

“oh, yeah, ningning. i forgot to remind her, i also kinda forgot myself. thanks for coming though.

“yeah. no problem.” you said, looking over the chesmitry

you sat there going over it for about a hour and some minutes going over the work with her. finally checking her answers that were correct. she sighed as she put her head back on the couch.

“finally, fuck. that was a lot.” she sighed tiredly. you laughed slightly, because surely it was a lot. you had gathered up your notes and paper as you got up stretching your arms above your head. your back cracking from your sitting position. she walked you to the door and bid you goodbye. she closed the door and you had sat outside the door for a minute as you fumbled in your pocket for your keys. hoping you didn’t leave me inside heejin’s apartment.

hushed voices were heard as you were about to walk off back to your dorm room.

“you know, she’s prettier than you talked about her.” you had heard that new voice say.

“yeah. watch it though, she’s my friend. don’t get to sucking up to her.” a more familiar voice responded.

“yeah whatever.”

your cheeks flushed, deciding to walk off keys or not back to your dorm room.

taglist: @hopeless-y, @1luvkarina , @gtfoiydlyj

[deathsmallcaps]

Here is her btw. On here she is my darling babygirl Squishface

I'm technically a prophet but the prophecies are presented to me in a language I can neither speak nor fundamentally fathom. so I just circle back to basically being normal

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

“You did not live in a house of horrors. I was raised to believe in hellfire; now that was bad!” Okay and impending global genocide of any culture that disagrees with your beliefs isn’t? Being raised mentally preparing to withstand torture at the hands of police in a “do it to Julia” situation isn’t? Being socially isolated from your peers on the grounds that they’re evil uneducated dumb worldly heathens controlled by Satan isn’t a bad thing? No. Those are all good things which every child should be taught in order to experience “the real life.”

The legitimate truth is that we are all in “the real life” right now and in “the real life,” the Governing Body is doing the very best they can to cover up the fact that they’re a cult by relaxing the cult’s rules in a futile attempt to prevent the prosecution in the numerous ONGOING child sexual abuse cases from handing their non-tight-pants-wearing asses to them. And the other legitimate truth is discovering this fact to be the legitimate truth while having to navigate a sea of lies and high school is extremely traumatizing, especially when you feel the need to take a hard stance against the cult to prevent others’ children — children like you — from befalling the same fate by dressing up as some miserable wretch who cooked and ate children, hoping the way you look and carry yourself and stare into the parents’ eyes will scare them away. And even more traumatizing is that your tactics worked; proving that you are just as bad and scary as your preexisting OCD made you out to be. Yes I did it to myself; but consider the reason why I felt so compelled to sacrifice the entirety of my mental health to sabotage you with what little tools I had. I wouldn’t have done it had I not had a very good reason, and my very good reason was that I was a child who loved children. You were trying to protect me and it was a sacrifice; but I was also trying to protect children. My endeavor is not — and was never — a selfish one. It is not that I don’t care about you; I only prioritize the class which is most oppressed, and you are not a part of it because you are adults. Your feelings, unfortunately, are expendable in my mission to end religious child labor. I will not support your corrupt religion to make you happy when I know what it’s done to others and to myself; it is wrong, and you are wrong for supporting it. I, as a paraprofessional, refuse to support a religion which hides the sexual abuse of children for its own gain. By law I am now a mandatory reporter; I must report child abuse when I see it under penalty of law. Therefore it stands to reason that I must report your cult from the top of every mountain for the entire inhabited earth to hear so they may not even take so much as one step in your direction. I am sorry if I seem like I hate you; if the fact that I reject your ideals of theological expectational fascism disturbs you so much, then maybe you need to re-evaluate your choices.

“Your actions affect others.” I know my actions affect others; I know how they affect others as well. You’re crushed and demoralized and suffering physically from all the emotional stress; I’ve likely dug you both early graves. I know what I’ve done and I can live with it — Not easily — but I am not defeated because I know I’m in the right, and have always been in the right. No. The real question is: Do you know how your actions are affecting others? In exquisite detail? Have you listened to the victims? Have you allowed yourself to hear both sides of the story with your human ears, not ones made of tin and thought-blocking strategies and “I had it worse than you” excuses? No? Then you’d better start because the key to healing yourself is to aid in the healing of others. We are all connected as one body; and I refuse to be a cancer cell. Sorry I’m aiding in your downfall but it’s got to happen at some point.

[the-magic-school-bus]

i made the fatal mistake of speaking to my sister when our mom was at work aka when im her target which means she does everything in she can to push my buttons, and i reacted, like an idiot

[dearreader]

and the arguments that i have won against you in my head; in the car, in the shower, and in the mirror before bed…

yeah i’m so tough when i’m alone and i make you feel so guilty and i fantasize about a time you’re a little fuckin’ sorry-

and i try to ꪊꪀᦔꫀ𝕣ડ𝕥ꪖꪀᦔ why you would do this all to me. ‘you must be insecure. you must be so unhappy.’

and i know in my heart: hurt people, hurt people. and we both drew blood, but man those cuts were

ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴇQᴜᴀʟ!!

and i try to be tough. but i wanna scream ‘HOW COULD ANYBODY DO THE THINGS YOU DID SO EASILY?’

and i say that i don’t care.

say that i’m fine.

but you know i can’t let it go, i’vetriedi’ve triedi’vetried for so long… it takes s⃞   t⃞   r⃞   e⃞   n⃞   g⃞   t⃞   h⃞ to forgive but i don’t feel ₛₜᵣₒₙg

[trevisos]

normal about this one as well!

[maskedbyghost]

lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

_______________________________________________

situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[mrsbarnesblog]

loyalty

masterlist

summary: Rafe comes back home to you after his meeting with Hollis

word count: 2k.

warnings: smut, established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy, reader is slightly insecure

You turned the TV in the living room off as soon as you heard the front door getting closed and the familiar ring of Rafe’s keys being thrown on the table. Patting slowly into the corridor, you bit your lip at the sight of him standing in the hallway, looking sexy as hell in that new sweater of his, and focused on something on his phone. 

“Hey, baby. How did it go?” You stepped closer, dragging Rafe’s attention to you as a soft smile stretched across his face. 

“Thought you were already sleeping.” He put his phone in the back pocket of his pants, now completely focused on you, and pulled you in his arms as soon as you approached him. Rafe hummed in your hair before picking you up from the floor and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Missed you so much, sweetheart.” 

You giggled at his words, your own hands connecting around Rafe’s neck, feeling every single muscle moving under your fingers. “You saw me like two hours ago.” You mumbled, scratching his neck with your nails, relieving the tension you knew was always present in his body. He silently walked back into the living room, one hand firmly holding you under your thighs, and fell onto the couch's soft cushions. 

You were settled on his lap, your worn-out gray t-shirt lifted up, almost not leaving anything for the imagination. He kissed you roughly and unexpectedly, taking a breath away from your lungs. You moaned into Rafe's mouth, gripping the back of his buzzed head to try to keep up with his pace, but he seemed far too eager for you. 

He finally slightly moved away from you, resting against the back of the couch and looking at you with a lazy smile, while his tongue slowly swiped across his bottom lip, tasting you. Your eyes followed the motion and you shifted on his lap at the sudden pressure in between your legs.  

“Couldn’t wait to get home back to you, baby.” You held back your smile but leaned your head to the side, studying his face. You knew Rafe and knew when there was something on his mind. 

“Did something happen?” You lean closer to his face, resting your hands on the cushions behind him. 

“Didn’t sign that yet... I dunno, something seems off, y’know?” He mumbled and rubbed your legs up and down, as he did whenever he was thinking about something. “And she was hitting on me, like tryna hold my hand and shit.” He didn’t break eye contact with you even when your smile slowly faded and you instantly felt a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. A quiet oh left your lips, as your mind filled with the images of them together, alone on the boat, just a perfect opportunity for someone like Rafe to charm the woman to get more money. “No, no, you’re not moving. You don’t think that I did it, do you?” He tightened his grip on you when you attempted to leave his lap.

“I mean…” You casually shrugged your shoulders, which made Rafe actually laugh in disbelief. 

“You mean?” His hand took a hold of your face to make you look him in the eyes. “I may be many things but a cheater is not one of them, baby. Shit, actually, her doing all of this made me realize that I can’t even think about anyone but you.” Rafe looked at you, one hand dragging your body up his thighs until you were sitting chest-to-chest. 

“I know that you wouldn’t cheat but...”

“There’s no ‘but’. I told her that I wanted to sign that agreement for both me and you. I’m not interested in anything else. Just you.” You felt like you were melting under his intense stare, because you knew when Rafe said something, he meant it. “You, um… I want it all together, just us, y’know?”

Your heart was beating way too hard to be considered normal. You never expected to hear it from Rafe, always in the back of your mind facing a thought about not being enough, about him leaving you for a better opportunity. No matter how hard you tried to muffle that voice in your head, it always seemed to find a way to you. Yet Rafe had it right in front of him but didn’t do it. 

This time you were the one who kissed him. Fisting the collar of Rafe’s sweater, you pulled him closer to you, even if it was not possible, grinding your hips into his and moaning at the feeling of his hands sneaking under your shirt. 

“Tell me that you’re in it with me, baby. I need to hear it.” He mumbled into your mouth, tracing your stomach and then pinching your nipples in between his fingers. He buckled his hips up into your covered pussy, making you push your lower body back against his to relieve the pressure. 

“I’m with you, Rafe, I promise.” 

Your hands reached between you two, quickly unbuckling Rafe’s belt and barely even pushing his pants and boxers down. You both were too desperate to feel each other, not even bothering to take the clothes off or move to his bedroom. Rafe lifted your hips with one hand, pushing your panties to the side with the other one, while you stroked his throbbing cock. You guided him to your soaked entrance, letting him easily slip inside with the way how wet you were for him. 

“Shi-i-it, baby.” He hissed near your ear, pulling you lower onto him, until you took his whole length. Your nails dug into Rafe’s sweater, and your brows furrowed in pleasure at the delicious stretch that he gave you. “Takin’ me in so well, huh?” His voice was low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine as he held you steady against him. You could feel his breath hot against your ear, and the way he filled you made your head spin, every inch of him pressing deeper.

“Please, I need you.” Whining and pushing your knees against the couch, you barely moved yourself up from Rafe’s length when he pushed you back down, instead taking control of you.  

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he rocked you slowly, the friction making you moan softly into his neck. “You feel that? Just made for me, baby.” His tone was a mix of praise and hunger, and each word sent heat coursing through your body. “Don’t need anyone else but you.”

You nodded, pulling your face back and resting your forehead against his. The air between you was thick, your mouths hovering close to each other, moaning and groaning with each thrust of Rafe’s hips into yours. His gaze was locked on you, dark blues possessive and filled with lust, which almost made you spiral. 

“You know you’re the only one, right?” Rafe’s voice was a husky whisper, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Forget about her. I don’t see anyone but you.” He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips against yours, teasing, his hands gripping your hips firmly, as if to prove his point. “She doesn’t matter. You’re all I want.”

You kissed him, the jealousy washing away with every word and touch that Rafe gave you. You held his jaw with one hand, sneaking under the sweater with another to slide your nails down his chest. It felt like kissing you made him even more feral, even more greedy, as his grip tightened on your hips, and he fucked into you harder and harder. 

It was impossible to concentrate on anything besides the way his dick was filling you, making your head buzz with white noise from the pleasure. Your eyes started to water, feeling approaching orgasm. Your body almost tried to move away from Rafe’s brutal strokes, but he grabbed your ass, keeping you pinned down, ensuring you took every inch he had to give.

“Mhm, Ray, shit—” Your hoarse voice cracked as you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken moan. Your eyes rolled back, your hand helplessly sliding down from his face, as you were no longer able to control yourself. Rafe smirked, clearly pleased with how you lost yourself  on top of him, his pace relentless, fucking up into you with bruising force.

“Yeah? You feel that?” He growled, his breath ragged as he watched your face contort in pleasure. “You’re not going anywhere. This is all for you, baby.” His grip tightened, almost painful, as he rocked into you harder, each thrust sending sparks of electricity through your body, pushing you right to the edge. “Cum for me, c’mon.” 

“Rafe—” You gasped, your voice barely a whisper, lost in the haze of pleasure that blurred your thoughts. His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you down so your lips were just inches from his, your breath mingling as you both panted for air.

“That’s it, baby.” He whispered against your lips, his eyes burning with intensity. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

With one final, deep thrust, the coil inside you snapped, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your vision blurred, and all you could do was cling to him as your orgasm hit hard, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms.

Too lost in the pleasure, you barely noticed him grunting your name and then moanning as his own orgasm hit him. Rafe filled you up to the brim, you felt every throb of his cock inside of you, barely able to hold back whimpers from the goosebumps that the feeling of it brought you.

“Good girl.” Rafe murmured, his low voice full of pride and satisfaction as he slowed his movements, letting you ride out your high while holding you close, his forehead still pressed to yours. 

You didn’t know when exactly Rafe pushed your both to your sides, or when did he pulled out of you and fixed your clothes to look more presentable, or when did he pulled a blanket over you. You blinked slowly, looking at his face right in front of you, feeling his delicate fingers pushing the hair away from your face and tracing your jawline and lips. You smiled at the feeling, relishing a rare moment of him being so soft and relaxed. 

“So what are you gotta do now?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him, curiosity mingling with concern. The playful glint in his eyes shifted for a moment, revealing the weight of the situation.

Rafe leaned in closer, his expression shifting from relaxed to focused. “Well, Hollis thinks she can play me. Thinks I’m an idiot, but I’m not. I’m not about to let that happen.” He replied, his tone low, sarcastic. “I’ll need to keep her close, let her think she’s in control, but really? I’m just waiting for the right moment to turn the tables.”

“You’re not.” You soothed when you saw annoyance start to rise in him. You placed your hand on top of his, giving a comforting squeeze. “I believe in you, and I know you’re gonna do the right thing. Maybe she’ll know better for trying to steal you away from me.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, and he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. “Damn right, she will. I’m not going anywhere, especially not with you by my side.” He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss and bringing you even closer to his body. 

[pathologicalreid]

safe space | s.r.

in which Jack Hotchner comes to your classroom after spotting Mr. Scratch on school grounds

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: takes place during early season 12, mr scratch/peter lewis, kindergarten teacher!reader, mom!reader, wife!reader, the spencer reid dilf agenda, nondescript illness, lying to your spouse word count: 1.9k a/n: this just popped into my head while i was watching season 12 AND @lilacsandlavenderhaze has a request in for kindergarten teacher!reader angst AND i wanted to give lia reading material for her train ride so we are killing three birds with one stone

You’d just turned your monitor off when you heard a knock at your door. Initially, you assumed it was Janet, a member of the custodial staff, coming to see if you had left for the day, but as you approached the door, you didn’t see anyone through the small window.

Your footsteps faltered, hesitating to open the door because you weren’t sure what you’d find on the other side, you were certainly surprised to find Jack Hotchner standing outside of your door. Frowning, you stepped to the side as he shoved into your classroom, “Jack? What’s wrong?”

Sometimes, Jack would sit in your classroom while you finished work, and you’d take him home to help out his dad and aunt, but as far as you knew, the BAU was in town, and Hotch didn’t need any extra help today. “He’s here,” Jack said ominously, his tone enough of a warning to prompt you to close your classroom door.

“Who’s here?” You asked, clicking the door shut and turning back to him. He was nervous, clutching the straps of his backpack like it was a lifeline.

Wide-eyed, Jack peeked out the windows next to your door, “Peter Lewis.”

Instinctively, you locked your classroom door, before standing in front of Jack, “Honey, how do you know who that is?”

He gulped, probably wondering if he’d get in trouble for knowing something he shouldn’t have, but in this case, his knowledge might have protected him. “I saw my dad’s files out on the kitchen table, I recognize his face.”

Technically, Peter Lewis wasn’t a name you were supposed to recognize, and yet, you’d heard the name from Spencer’s lips countless times in the last year. Even more so since he managed to escape from prison, “Where did you see him?”

“Outside by the busses,” he told you, following you through your classroom until you made it back to your desk, searching for your cell phone. “Are you gonna call Uncle Spencer?”

You shook your head, scrolling through your contacts until you came across one Aaron Hotchner, “I’m calling your dad.” Blood drained from your face as realization dawned on you, “Jack, do you know where Henry is?”

He tapped on your desk anxiously; the fidgeting was the only movement that clued you into his nervousness. Jack’s facial expression was completely stoic, and you wondered, not for the first time, if it was genetic. “He went home early,” He told you, “His dad picked him up.”

Nodding to yourself as you clicked the call button on your phone and held it up to your ear, grateful that you didn’t need to be a haven for multiple BAU kids. You’d had both boys as students in kindergarten, but Henry was in second grade and Jack was in fifth now.

“Hello?” A familiar voice came in through the phone, instinctively, you reached out a hand and smoothed Jack’s hair back.

You smiled sadly at Jack, you didn’t call Hotch often, and when you did, it was seldom good news. “Hey, Hotch,” you greeted him, “I’ve got Jack here in my classroom, and I think we have a bit of a situation.”

Explaining the events of the afternoon to Hotch, you heard him packing up to leave work on the other line—the click of his briefcase, the placement of pens in a mug. “Can you put me on speakerphone?” He asked. Of course, you obliged, letting Jack take the phone in his hands, “Hey buddy, you did the right thing by going to Mrs. Reid’s classroom.”

“I saw him in your folders,” Jack said, trying to explain himself.

There was a fine line that needed to be walked when it came to what you all decided to tell your children. In this case, Jack’s snooping might have been what kept him safe. It made your chest ache, and it made you anxious to get home to your own kids. “I know, it’s okay. I’m gonna leave work and come pick you up…” His voice trailed off for a moment, “Can you give the phone back to Mrs. Reid?”

Jack handed the phone to you, and you smiled softly at him, “Hey, why don’t you take a seat in one of the bean bag chairs?” You gestured to your classroom’s comfy corner and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Hey.”

“Would you mind staying at the school with him? Just until I can get there, I just have to make sure I let Dave know that I’m leaving,” he informed you.

You swallowed thickly, it was a wonder that you were more nervous than Jack was right now, but maybe that was a blessing in disguise. “Yeah, that’s fine, Hotch. I’ll be here for as long as you guys need,” you assured him, watching as Jack dutifully opened his backpack and pulled out a binder.

Hotch released a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Y/N.”

After hanging up the phone, you went over to your snack cabinet and pulled out a package of goldfish crackers, bringing them over to Jack and holding them out for him to take. They were his favorite when he was in your class, and you hoped they still were. Maybe he was just humoring you when he took them gratefully, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just water is fine,” he answered, focused on the pages on his lap.

You hesitated, “Are you sure?” You wandered over to your desk and opened the small fridge that you stashed beneath it, “I have some yogurt drinks… I have apple juice. Does your dad usually let you have juice?”

Holding out the juice box like an offering, you let him see it before he answered, “Sometimes.”

“Well, I think he’ll forgive me today,” you admitted, acknowledging the extenuating circumstances. You kept the juice boxes in your classroom in case of a low blood sugar, but you worried about giving him too much sugar without his dad’s permission. Then again, Jack could probably handle more sugar than your toddlers could.

He thanks you again, this time for the juice box, and sets it on the small side table with his opened bag of goldfish.

You noticed his drawings in the binder, he was in the process of coloring in a bunch of spaceships, but it wasn’t his precise coloring that you took note of, it was the fact that he was coloring in lines that he had drawn himself. Quickly, you texted your nanny to let her know that you’d be a little late getting home before sitting down in the bean bag next to him. “Those are really well done, Jack.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, focused on getting the straw into his juice box.

Deciding to try again, you wiped your clammy palms on your skirt, “Is that what you want to do when you grow up?” You asked him, peeking over at the papers again, “Design spaceships.”

Jack shrugged in response as he took a sip from his juice, “I’m not sure.”

Nodding in understanding, you let him sit and continue his drawing, smiling when he periodically snacked on a goldfish. You wondered if Hotch had the same fear as you. That one day, one of your kids would come up to you and proclaim that they wanted to be an FBI agent just like their dad. You wanted the best for your kids, and you wanted them to follow their own dreams, but not at the cost that the FBI took.

You both startled when a knock came at your door, you gently touched the side of Jack’s chair, “It’s probably just your dad,” you reassured him, “I’ll go look.”

Setting down your snack, you warily approached your classroom door, releasing a sigh of relief when you saw Hotch on the other side. “Hey,” you said, opening the door for him, “Jack, he’s here.”

He started shoving his things in his backpack, minding his juice and snack on the table as he tossed the bag over his shoulders. “Hi, dad,” he greeted.

“Hey, bud,” Hotch greeted with a small wave before he turned to you, “I didn’t say anything to anyone before I left, and I was wondering if you could refrain from mentioning anything to Reid.”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, “I don’t keep secrets from my husband, Hotch,” you told him, shrugging slightly as you did.

Hotch nodded, “Could you just… delay it by a day, then? Just until I’m able to sort some things out.”

Meeting his gaze, you recognized the fear in them; it was the same fear you saw in Spencer’s eyes every time an UnSub got a little too close to the team. The look you saw when you and the kids were put into protective custody. With that in mind, your head bobbed, “Sure thing, Hotch.”

A day, you could do a day, you assured yourself as the three of you said your goodbyes, leaving you to relock your door and return to your desk. You took a seat, resting your chin in your hands as you eyed a photo on your desk. It was from last Christmas when you and Spencer took the kids to meet Santa. They were all grinning at the camera, even your youngest, who usually bore a scowl.

Closing your eyes, you tried to convince yourself to get up and head home when your phone started ringing. You sighed at the sight of the Caller ID: Spencer.

Swiping the screen, you brought it up to your ear, “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you immediately, “You sound upset.”

You sniffled, “No, it’s fine. I just…” you searched your mind for a fib, “There’s something going around the school. A stomach bug or something.”

In the background of the call, you heard the dinging of elevators, familiar BAU sounds, “Yeah, it sounds like Henry’s picked something up, so JJ’s headed home early. I’m worried Jack might’ve gotten it too, Hotch left in kind of a hurry not too long ago.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you nodded to yourself, “Uh, yeah. I’m just about to head home myself.”

“Well, with the team down two, Rossi decided we should just call it a day, so I’m actually on my way out too,” he told you. “I was wondering if you wanted to try to take the kids to that new playground out by Falls Church, but if you’re not feeling well, I can just take them and let you rest.”

You laughed weakly, more at the situation than anything, “I’d love to, and the kids will like it too.” At the very least, they’d sleep well tonight after playing their energy away.

He hummed over the phone, “Perfect, I’ll see you when I get home?” He asked, acknowledging that you had a shorter commute than him and would likely beat him home.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, standing up and gathering your things with your phone wedged between your shoulder and cheek. “Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, lovely?” He chirped in response, clearly in a much better mood than you.

You sighed, “I love you.”

He was silent for a moment, “Are you sure you’re alright? Is something wrong?”

Shaking his head even though he couldn’t see, you answered, “I just really, really love you.”

“Well,” he responded, his grin apparent in his tone, “I really, really love you too.”

[op-sys-chaos]

DPxDC prompt (demon twins au)

A video from your son, the email was titled. Bruce was confused. Which of his kids would send a video to his public work email??

Bruce clicked play.

On the screen was a boy who look a lot like Damian, but most certainly wasn’t him.

“This video is for the eyes of Bruce Wayne only.

Hi Dad. I’m Danny. You likely don’t know I exist, and if you’re receiving this, I’m already dead. Well, more dead than I already was. Maybe it’s cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem, but you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would’ve put you in danger.

This email is set to automatically send if I haven’t opened my computer for 3 days. I sometimes set it longer if I’m on vacation or expecting trouble, but I’ve mostly likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you’re receiving this.

I don’t know who killed me. Obviously. I’m recording this in advance. But it was probably either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons. I half-died at 14 and became a local ghost superhero, but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost-me apart molecule by molecule, so I bet that’s what happened. There will be nothing left of me to bury. Sorry about that!

The rest of the story is this. I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of 6 when they sent me on mission and I successfully faked my death.

My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that’s the reason I’m reaching out to you.

You’re a civilian. If you know too much about the League of Assassins you’ll be in danger. But I need you to save my twin Damian. He’s likely still there after all these years. He never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. He’s probably going to be stabby; he’s an assassin after all. But it’s not his fault. Ra’s - our grandfather - brainwashed him a lot more than he brainwashed me because Damian was more susceptible to it. It’s not his fault. Please. Save him. I’m begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please do it.

I wish it would’ve been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I’ve seen of you on the news with your oldest kids. I bet you’re like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I wish you all the best. Thank you for listening.

Your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton.”

Bruce took a second to process this, then picked up his phone and dialed his youngest’s number.

“Father.”

“Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?”

“…Who told you?”

Bruce hung up and sent Damian the video. He needed a minute to process this anyway.

Damian called back a few minutes later, after watching the video.

“Father. I do not care what state he is in. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny. Even if there is only a single molecule left. We must discover the truth.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Damian.”

Dealer’s choice on whether Danny is alive. The few ideas I have for this are:

- they find him mid-vivisection and rescue him

- they find what’s left of him post-vivisection and post his core being crushed

- he’s perfectly fine and just forgot to open his computer (maybe clockwork made sure he forgot?) and now he’s panicking about the fact that his family knows about him and could be in danger. He wanted them to know he existed, not make themselves a walking target for the league by finding him and trying to bring him home!

- Jazz found the automatic email and, deciding to meddle in her brother’s life and him back to his family and maybe get a good parent for herself as a bonus, sent it early

- Technus decided to start shit and sent it while haunting Danny’s computer

- Clockwork screwed with time to make sure it got sent

Lmk what yall do with this!

[vunblr]

What if...?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Slight Angst.

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

Word Count: About 8.4k.

She knew exactly who he was the first time they bumped into each other when she ran toward the stairs of her apartment building, and he suddenly emerged from them, lost in thought. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and the glint of metal was pretty noticeable when he reached out to grab her elbow to prevent her from falling backward. The touch was brief, since he retired his hand promptly when he was sure she would not fall, his blue eyes revealing something akin to regret.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered, his voice low and gravelly as he retracted his hand, tucking it into his jacket.

“Oh, don’t be,” she responded, the corners of her lips lifting just slightly as she waved her hand dismissively. “I should’ve been more careful. The elevator’s out, and I was in such a hurry… ugh. We always tell the kids not to run in hallways and stairs because accidents can happen, and here I am-" She cut herself off, realizing she was rambling, and gave an embarrassed smile. “Anyway… hi. I’m Y/n, I just moved in yesterday.” She extended her hand.

He reached out, his grip firm but gentle. “James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, and as she straightened her nurse uniform, she bit her lip. Handsome. The cute wrinkles that creased the corners of his striking blue eyes, were the kind that hinted at a man who had both smiled and seen more than his fair share of hardship, and it was hard not to notice. His body, the epitome of perfection. She mentally slapped herself for staring. “Well, Bucky, I’m running late for work, so I need to go, but I’ll see you around. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He nodded, watching as she hurried down the stairs, her uniform swaying slightly with her steps. He stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment longer than he should have, replaying the soft smile on her lips.

The days after that encounter passed in a blur of awkward run-ins. Each time, she greeted him with the same soft smile, and each time, Bucky found himself lost in thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself in years.

It started with a polite nod, maybe a smile here and there, but soon, their brief encounters turned into casual conversations. Small talk about their days, the weather, even little jokes about the state of their shared building. He found himself looking forward to those moments, however fleeting they were, because it felt so easy to exchange a few words with her, how her laughter always seemed to come just when he needed to hear it. He’d often catch her gaze lingering on him a second too long before she looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks and it was enough to make him wonder if maybe, just maybe, she felt the same pull that he did.

Then, one evening, as they both stood waiting for the elevator, she quirked a brow at him. "You know, Bucky," she started, her voice light, "if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were following me."

He blinked, caught off guard, but the playful glint in her eyes made him relax. He let out a small chuckle. "Well… I could say the same about you." She laughed, and once again, the sound made him feel almost normal.

His therapist had been telling him for months that he was isolated, and that he needed to socialize, form connections. She had even suggested dating, but every time he tried, it hadn’t gone well. The interactions felt awkward, forced, and he often found an excuse to leave early, or worse, sometimes he didn’t even bother with an excuse, just walking out of there without a word.

There was something about Y/n that set her apart, mostly the ease with which their conversations flowed. He wasn’t the type to talk much, often keeping things curt and to the point, but she had this way of making the silence between them feel comfortable, never pushing him to share more than he wanted. He didn’t have to try so hard to keep up with standard appearances. But the pull toward her wasn’t just about feeling comfortable, he wanted her. He caught himself watching her more often than he’d like to admit, she was exactly his type, soft and curvy in all the right places. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to touch her, to run his hands over her body, feel her warmth beneath his fingertips. But every time he got close to asking her out, fear crept in, locking the words in his throat. Fear of rejection, of being too damaged, of her seeing the parts of him he was ashamed of. It always stopped him.

Tonight felt different, though. There was something in her playful approach that made the fear feel less suffocating, less overwhelming. The elevator doors opened, and as they stepped inside, Bucky turned to her, his heart hammering in his chest. He could barely believe he was about to do this.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.

She glanced at him, her eyes curious. "Yeah?"

He swallowed hard, feeling the moment's weight as he stood before her, and almost panicked. This wasn’t something he was used to. He could fight in gruesome battles, survive impossible odds, flip a fucking armored truck with a tug of his arm… but asking someone out? That felt like a whole different battlefield. It was terrifying in a way those other things weren’t.

For a moment, he almost backpedaled. His mind scrambled, desperately searching for something else to say, some way to deflect his intentions and change the subject. But nothing came. He was stuck. He’d already opened his mouth, and there was no way to retreat now without looking like a fool.

Taking a deep breath, he jumped.

“Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?” The words came out gruff but honest. For a second, doubt crept in, making him wonder if he’d just made a mistake.

Her eyes widened in surprise before lighting up, a smile spreading across her face that eased the knot on his stomach. “Oh, I’d love to. It’d be fun to do something outside the building for a change. We run into each other so much, that I actually thought about asking you to hang out, but you always seemed rushed, like you couldn’t wait to leave. I’m glad that’s not the case.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “You know, we can be neighbors and friends. There’s nothing in the building rules against it.”

Bucky blinked, his heart sinking at the word friends. He forced one of the practiced, uncomfortable smiles his therapist suggested. Friendzoned -a term he’d only recently discovered- wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he hadn’t spelled it out, either. Of course she thought he was just trying to be friendly, he hadn’t given her a fucking hint of his real intentions. He hadn’t flirted, hadn’t made even the slightest move to swoon her.

The old him would’ve had no trouble conveying his interest. He would’ve been smooth and confident, knowing exactly how to charm her and make his intentions clear. But he wasn’t that guy anymore. He hadn’t done this in decades, and the rules seemed to have shifted in ways he didn’t fully understand. Hell, he had shifted. He sighed. 

"Uh, Y/n?" he started, his tone careful and tentative. She looked back at him, her eyes curious. "I just want to be clear," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, "I meant it... as a date. Not just neighbors or friends grabbing a bite."

For a moment, she didn’t respond, still processing what he had just said. His words hung in the air, heavy with significance. And then, something clicked. A blush crept up her neck as her smile turned more thoughtful. He wanted to spend time with her not because they lived in the same building or happened to bump into each other, but because he was interested.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize… I mean…” she stumbled with her words, “I didn’t know you meant it like that." She has had her fair share of men in her life but being honest with herself, in a million years, she wouldn’t have guessed someone like him would be asking her out. Not Bucky, the quiet, handsome, brooding neighbor with the sharp jawline and the weight of a thousand untold stories in his eyes. For months, she had brushed off the little moments between them as neighborly interactions, nothing more. It had been easier that way. Safer, maybe. But now, standing here, the truth of his intentions was undeniable.

He waited, his expression still calm, but the vulnerability in his eyes was unmistakable. She almost laughed at herself, the absurdity of it all. Of course, she had noticed him. How could she not?

Her smile softened, "I’m glad you clarified." she finally said, her voice quieter now. "And yeah, Bucky. I’d like that, a lot."

Bucky gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if he’d been holding his breath and had just now allowed himself to exhale. A faint smile crept onto his lips, one that actually reached his eyes, softening the hardened edges he usually carried.

"Great," he murmured, his voice low but warm. "I’ll, uh, figure something out."

They shared one last look before the elevator doors opened, and as they stepped out, Bucky’s heart was still racing, but this time, it wasn’t from fear.

The first date had been simple, almost quiet in its ease. He brought her flowers, a small, hesitant gesture that made her eyes light up. They went to a bistro and talked about life, interests, and the kind of things you only share when you feel a certain sense of safety with someone. Bucky never said more than necessary, but she learned to read the way his eyes softened when he listened, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when she said something that caught him off guard. It was easy and comfortable as their previous interactions, and yet, in the back of his mind, there was always the whisper: do you even deserve this?

The second date was at the small café on the corner of their building. There had been more laughter this time, the conversation flowing easily. As they sat across from each other, their knees brushed under the table. It was subtle, almost unintentional, but the warmth of the touch lingered. It happened again, and neither of them moved away.

They walked back in silence, a comfortable quiet settling between them, though there was an undeniable charge in the air. As they reached her door, she turned to face him, and for a moment, the space between them felt heavier, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

His hand hovered just near her lower back, not quite touching, but close enough that she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric of her dress. For a brief second, she thought he might pull her closer to break that last sliver of space between them, but he didn’t. His hand lingered for just a moment longer before falling away, his expression betraying a flicker of hesitation.

Bucky’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips, his brows furrowing slightly, before he looked away, almost as if chastising himself. His old-fashioned upbringing, perhaps, held him back and kept him from making the move she half-expected, the one she wanted.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. His tired eyes lingered on hers just a little too long, as if he were still debating, still fighting the pull to act on the desire he was clearly feeling.

She nodded, trying to ignore the flutter on her chest and to respect his boundaries, even though her hands itched to reach for him, to pull him closer and start what he wouldn’t. “Goodnight, Bucky,” she said softly, her own voice betraying the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

They stood there for a heartbeat longer, the short distance between their doors now feeling like miles. He gave her a small, almost hesitant smile, then turned toward his own apartment, the quiet between them somehow louder now.

By the time the third date approached, Bucky’s nerves were starting to get the better of him. He didn’t want to ruin this. The cocky Sergeant Barnes -the man who hadn’t yet turned into a walking nightmare- would’ve laughed at him. That version of himself had been bold, self-assured, the type of man who could sweep a woman off her feet without a second thought. He’d have taken the lead with ease, knowing exactly how to handle the situation. But that man was long gone, buried beneath the weight of all he had done, all he had become.

Before leaving for the date, he poured himself an imperial pint of asgardian ale. Just enough to give him a buzz, to take the edge off. Standing there, glass in hand, he caught his reflection in the window and sighed. Could she see it? The darkness? The scars left behind from being Hydra’s puppet? And even if she didn’t... how long until she did? You don’t deserve this, the voice whispered again, unrelenting.

That night, after dinner, they found themselves in her living room, two untouched coffee cups growing cold on the table beside them. The dim light softened the space around them, creating an intimate cocoon that made their conversation flow effortlessly. Yet, beneath the easy chatter, Bucky’s doubts lingered. He couldn’t shake the feeling that any move forward could shatter the delicate balance between them.

He’d been raised with a sense of propriety, a rhythm to follow when it came to courting. There was a dance to it, an unspoken set of rules about when to advance and when to hold back. The trouble now was figuring out how much to let himself move forward, how far to let this go before the weight of his past dragged him under again.

As their conversation naturally ebbed into silence, he noticed her gaze flicker to his lips, lingering just a bit longer than usual. His pulse quickened. She was giving him a sign, even if she hadn’t meant to. For a brief moment, he hesitated, but the look in her eyes, the quiet anticipation, and the ale still running through his system urged him forward.

He leaned in slightly, their knees brushing, the warmth of her body drawing him closer. His hand hovered near her arm, and she responded getting closer, her lips parting ever so slightly as if inviting him in without saying a word.

Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between them, his heart pounding in his chest. The kiss was meant to be soft and chaste, but all restraint flew out the window the second their lips touched.

His hand slipped to the small of her back, pulling her closer, the kiss growing hungrier, more urgent, as if months of longing were unraveling in that single moment. With a gentle, almost teasing flick of his tongue against her lower lip, he urged her to open her mouth. She complied, her lips parting as she allowed him in, and things turned molten. His tongue slid against hers, and the heat between them spiraled when she let out a quiet, breathless moan. The sound sent a jolt of desire pushing him further. His metal hand remained firm on her back, pulling her as close as possible, while the other slipped into her hair. She responded eagerly, her fingers gliding up his chest and tangling in his now messy bun, tugging him closer as if she couldn’t get enough. The kiss was all-consuming, urgent and messy, as months of tension finally broke free. Eventually, they slowly pulled apart, heavy breaths mingling in the charged air between them. His gaze dropped to her lips, now swollen and flushed from their activities, and he felt the undeniable pull to dive back in.

Then he noticed it. His vibranium hand had slid down to her waist and was gripping harder than he intended. Much harder. He swallowed and looked at it, the realization sinking in. His hand, still gripping tightly, could harm her. He sighed, frustration and self-reproach tugging at him, unable to find a balance between his longing and his fear of hurting her.

She caught the sigh, her eyes following his downward gaze until they landed on his hand, still gripping her waist. And then it clicked, she understood. It wasn’t just the pressure of his hand; it was everything behind it. The strength he was constantly aware of, the control he had to maintain, the fear of hurting someone he cared about without meaning to. It wasn’t just about this moment, it was about everything he carried with him.

Instead of pulling away, she did the opposite. She shifted slightly, pressing closer into his hand, her body language reassuring him. With that small gesture, she was telling him she trusted him, she wasn’t fragile, and she wasn’t going to break. He didn’t need to hold back with her.

He exhaled softly, and a question bubbled up, one that had been lingering in his mind for far too long. “Have you ever thought how things would have been if we had met under different circumstances?” His voice was quiet, almost tentative, the weight of the topic heavy in the intimate space between them.

Her brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued. “Different how?” she asked, leaning in a little, her eyes searching his.

Bucky took a breath, his gaze drifting again as if he were caught somewhere between the past and the present. “I mean… if I hadn’t been…” He trailed off for a second, a shadow crossing his expression. “If I didn’t become what I am. If I’d been just… me.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as though speaking the words out loud might break something fragile between them.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space he needed, her hand gently resting on his arm, a subtle reassurance.

“I think about it sometimes,” he admitted, his eyes still distant, fixed on a point somewhere beyond her. “If we’d met before all the... before everything.” His lips pressed into a thin line, guilt flickering behind his blue eyes. “Maybe in another time, I could’ve been just a guy. Someone who didn’t have…” He paused, his metal hand still against her back. “Someone that wouldn’t have been so messed up. Someone normal and approachable.”

Her heart clenched at the weight of his words. “Bucky…” she started, her voice soft, but he shook his head slightly as if to wave off her sympathy.

“I don’t know,” he continued, quieter now. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve…” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

Without hesitation, she entwined their fingers, squeezing gently. “You do deserve this,” she said firmly, her voice unwavering as she met his gaze. She wasn’t going to let him retreat into the dark place where his self-deprecation lived. “You deserve to be happy, Buck. You’re a good man.” She sighed and shifted beside him, her head resting back against the couch as she considered his previous words and then an idea popped up.

“Let’s see… if I had been born before 1920, I’d probably still be a nurse.” Her lips curved into a small smile as she looked at him sideways, eyes gleaming in the dim light. She watched him closely, seeing how he would react, her heart thumping just a little faster as she waited. “I’d have enlisted to work in a field hospital. And… who knows, maybe we could have met there when you were serving.” She let the thought linger in the air, light and playful, hoping it would lift the heaviness that had settled between them.

Bucky’s brows lifted slightly, and he tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He shifted closer to her without even realizing, his hand still resting lightly on her waist. “You would’ve been responsible for making sure I was fit for duty,” he mused, his tone a little lighter now as if the idea of an alternate history didn’t seem so bad. “Keeping an eye on me, seeing my injuries, maybe even patching me up yourself.” He added with a playful edge, allowing himself to immerse in the scenario.

She grinned, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she imagined the scene. “Oh, from what I heard about you, I doubt you would have visited the hospital very often, Sarge,” she teased, nudging his knee with hers playfully, a grin tugging at her lips.

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and genuine, as his thumb began tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, a gesture she was growing fond of. “Probably not,” he agreed, leaning in slightly, his voice dipping into something softer. “But I would’ve noticed you from afar. Even if I had no reason to be there, you would’ve stood out.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed the back of his hand, a smile playing on her lips as she waited for his answer.

Bucky glanced down at their intertwined hands, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against her softer ones. He looked back up at her, his voice steady, but with a hint of something deeper. “Because you’re beautiful,” he said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She blinked, caught off guard by the casual sincerity in his tone. “Beautiful, me? Pfft!” She laughed softly, with a playful spark in her eyes. “But... now that I think about it, pin-up girls were a thing when you were serving, weren’t they?”

Bucky leaned back into the couch, pulling her with him, his arm wrapping firmer around her waist, a slow grin forming at her words. “Yeah, well, nurses were definitely included in the ‘interesting’ category too,” he teased. His eyes flicked down, tracing the curves of her body as his hand tightened slightly around her waist, making her feel self-conscious. “Especially ones with curves like yours.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head, but before she could say anything, Bucky continued, his voice lower now, a bit more serious. “You’d have been popular among the guys in camp, you know. They’d have been lining up, falling over themselves to get your attention.” He paused, his gaze flicking back to hers. “But trust me, I would’ve noticed you first. And I wouldn’t have let anyone else have a shot.”

Her cheeks flushed as she tucked her legs beneath her, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, so you would’ve asked me out?” she teased, her curiosity bubbling to the surface as she edged closer to him, her eyes locked on his.

Bucky turned slightly toward her, the hand resting on her arm sliding down slowly, his fingers brushing her skin in soft, teasing strokes. “Oh, I wouldn’t have just asked,” he said with a smirk. “I’d have made sure you had no reason to say no.”

She felt her heart quicken at the subtle heat in his voice, the playful edge giving way to something more intense. Her breath hitched slightly, and she bit her lip as she gazed up at him. “Is that so?” she murmured, her voice soft, a bit more serious now. “And how would you have done that?” She leaned in a little, her shoulder brushing against his, her warmth radiating into the small space between them. “How was the game back then? Brought flowers? Invited me to dance?”

“Both, probably,” he murmured, his hand now resting on her thigh, his thumb grazing the fabric of her dress in slow, deliberate motions. “Flowers, because they’re classic... and dancing, because it’s intimate.”

“Well,” she whispered, her voice softer now as she leaned her head toward him, lips just inches from his ear, “I guess I would’ve let you court me, Sarge. Tell me about a date with you.”

Bucky’s hand tightened slightly on her thigh, the pressure just enough to make her heart race. His stubbled cheek brushed against hers as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Saturday night,” he whispered, his lips barely grazing the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, “dinner at the Officers’ Club, followed by a slow dance... and then back to my quarters for a proper goodnight kiss.”

Her breath hitched, her pulse quickening as the warmth of his breath and the weight of his words settled between them. She could feel the tension thickening in the air, her voice trembling slightly as she teased, “Only a kiss?”

Bucky smirked against her skin, his lips hovering near her ear. “Maybe more than just a kiss,” he rasped, his voice low and full of promise, “but only if you wanted it too.”

She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “Hmm, I dunno, Sergeant Barnes... things were done more properly back then, right? No sex before marriage, and all that stuff?”

He let out a low chuckle, his hand already inching higher up her thigh, the heat of his touch sending shivers up her spine. “You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, his voice taking on a teasing edge. “I would've waited until our wedding night…” His hand slid beneath the fabric of her dress, fingers grazing the soft skin of her thigh. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have thought about it. Every. Single. Day.” He leaned in again as he whispered. “How you’d look... how you’d feel... imagining all the ways I’d finally get to touch you.” His breath was warm against her skin, the words heavy with tension.

“Is that so?” she murmured, her fingers sliding up his chest, gripping his collar just enough to keep him close. “You think you could’ve waited?”

His hand tightened again on her thigh. “I would’ve tried... but I don’t think you would’ve made it easy.” Bucky’s playful tone faded into something more serious, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Would you have let me… let me have you like that?” His words carried a weight that made her heart race.

She swallowed, her fingers gripping his shirt tighter as she looked up into his eyes, feeling the pull of him in a way that left her defenseless. “I-” her voice faltered, her pulse racing, but she managed to find her words. “Yeah, Bucky... I would’ve.”

Bucky’s metal hand, firm but tender, climbed from her waist tracing a slow, deliberate path up her spine. He then reached for the little buttons at the neckline of her dress, his touch both careful and bold as he unfastened them, one by one. Each undone button revealed more of her skin to his darkened gaze, and the way he looked at her made her feel exposed in a way that went beyond the physical. “I would’ve taken care of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing her collarbone. “Made sure no one else got close to you.”

Her body leaned instinctively toward him, craving the closeness as her free hand ran up his arm, her fingers tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. “No one else would’ve mattered,” she whispered.

With a swift, deliberate motion, the hand on her neckline slid down and snaked behind her, grasping her ass and pulling her fully into his lap. She gasped as her hips pressed against his, feeling exactly how much he wanted her. “Every night,” he growled, his voice rough with need, “I would’ve made sure you were mine.” His eyes were ablaze with raw desire as his grip tightened, holding her firmly against him.

Her pulse raced, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and his mouth crashed into hers in a searing kiss. His other hand slid higher up her thigh, teasing the edge of her underwear, fingers brushing the soft skin. A soft moan escaped her lips, muffled by the kiss, and when he broke it, his lips found the curve of her neck.

“So only one kiss, huh?” she chuckled in a breathed tone, her voice trembling with anticipation as her hips instinctively rocked against him.

Bucky inhaled deeply against her skin, trailing hot kisses down toward her chest. “Well, I would've kissed you every chance I got but believe me, that wouldn’t have been enough...” His words were thick with promise, his breath hot against her skin. He pressed his arousal harder against her, his hand slipping between them, fingers tracing her slick heat over her underwear. The breathless gasp that escaped her was all the encouragement he needed. “… that wouldn’t have been fucking enough.” he whispered against her skin, his voice low and filled with hunger, as his fingers moved with purpose, leaving no doubt about what he wanted.

She bit her lip, her voice soft but laced with playful intent as she fed into the fantasy they were weaving. “Well, if we had ourselves a little house with a white fence, I’d have waited for you to come home every day in a frilly apron,” her eyes locked onto his, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she added, “with nothing underneath.”

The image she painted made Bucky’s breath hitch, his grip tightening around her ass. His eyes nearly rolled back, his imagination spiraling into wild possibilities. “Damn.” His voice was laced with lust. “If I could’ve had you waiting for me like that,” he murmured, his hand gripping her tighter, fingers digging into her skin as his restraint began to falter “I’d have come home early every damn day just to take advantage of you.” His lips brushed the swell of her breasts, the heat between them spiraling as his imagination ran wild, and he pulled her impossibly closer while teasing over her soaked panties.

Her gaze flicked from his lips back to his darkened eyes. “Oh yeah?” she challenged, her voice a sultry whisper. “Right there on the kitchen table?”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, the raw desire in his eyes nearly swallowing her whole. “Hell yes, right there on the kitchen table,” he growled, his vibranium hand gripping her ass harder, possessively. “I’d bend you over it, flip up that little apron, and bury myself inside you until you screamed my name for the whole damn neighborhood to hear.” He confessed without a hint of remorse or shame.

Her body reacted instantly, hips pressing hard against the teasing hand hovering over her clothed pussy. A soft whimper escaped her, the sound almost desperate. His hand answered her need by slipping her panties aside, his fingers slowly sinking into her heat, stretching her with deliberate, agonizing precision. The sensation sent a shudder through her, her body arching into his touch.

She let out a shaky breath, her playful tone faltering as her body betrayed her. “How kinky,” she managed to tease, biting her lip as she met his gaze, her voice barely steady under the growing pressure inside her.

Bucky inhaled sharply, savoring the way she responded, his hand moving with more purpose now. “Kinky enough to have you blushing for days,” he growled, his teeth grazing up to her jawline before dragging his lips slowly up to brush against hers. His fingers kept sliding deeper inside her with slow, deliberate strokes. “And when the milkman came the next morning…” The hand on her ass squeezed the supple skin harder, pulling her even close against him, while the other continued its relentless torment between her legs. “...you’d be so sore from the night before, you wouldn’t even be able to stand straight. Couldn’t look anyone in the eye without blushing, remembering just how loud you screamed.”

She blushed at his statement, totally immersed in the fantasy. “That sounds… so good, Buck.” She managed to say, her voice trembling with want. She bit her lip again, locking eyes with him and starting to ground herself shamelessly against his fingers, the pressure building quickly inside her. “But... would you only fuck me at the kitchen table when coming back? What about… other creative places? Like the back porch, under the shade of the bindweed?...”

Bucky's eyes closed as her suggestion sparked a flood of heated thoughts. “Hell, yes," he growled, his voice deep and gravelly, thick with desire. He pushed his fingers deeper inside her, his thumb circling her swollen clit, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. “I’d lift that sexy little apron right up, spread your legs wide open, and fuck you right there under the bindweeds," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, each word laced with promise. "And you'd moan my name, scream it, while everyone else thinks we’re just having a quiet afternoon tea."

The combination of his filthy words and the relentless pressure of his fingers sent her body trembling with anticipation, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. "Bucky…" she moaned softly, her hands tightening their grip on him, desperate for everything he was giving her. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against his hand, her breath hitching as his fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot and sending waves of pleasure radiating through her body. The pleasure built inside her, tightening, coiling until every nerve in her body felt alive.

Bucky felt the signals and growled, his fingers moving faster now, each stroke deliberate and calculated as his forehead pressed against hers, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. “I’d had make sure no one could ever touch you the way I did,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive. "Every inch of you, mine." He punctuated the last words with hard, rhythmic rubs at one side of her clit and that was all she needed for the climax to hit her, a wave of intense pleasure crashing through her. Her moans turned into soft cries as she buried her face on his neck, her body trembling violently as his hand continued to work her through it, prolonging her ecstasy.

When her body came down from her high, still trembling from the intensity, Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers. Panting, she looked at his gaze and saw the raw, unbridled desire burning in his cobalt eyes. Without hesitation, she leaned in, her lips finding his stubbled jaw, trailing soft, hungry kisses down his neck, nipping and sucking against his skin while her hand wandered lower and lower on his abdomen, finally unbuttoning his pants with deliberate slowness, venturing inside his underwear.

The moment her fingers brushed against his cock, he tensed and groaned. “W-wait,” he rasped, his voice thick with need and restraint. His hand held hers firmly, keeping her from going further.

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, her lips still hovering near his neck. “Why?” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “I want to make you feel good too. You deserve it, Bucky,” she whispered, her words full of tenderness and desire. Her fingers twitched beneath his grip, her intention clear.

Bucky let out a low, shaky breath with a hint of frustration. He knew he had to come clean. “I want it too, trust me,” he muttered, his voice low, strained. “But it’s been so long... too long. If you touch me now…” He trailed off, swallowing hard, the unspoken words hanging in the air. “Let me lead,” he whispered, his voice thick with promise. He leaned in to kiss her, deep and slow, pouring all the pent-up desire into the kiss.

She sighed softly, pulling back just enough to reach for the hem of her dress, slipping it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric lifted away from her body, leaving her sitting in only her bra and panties as the dress was tossed to the side of the couch.

Bucky’s gaze darkened as he took her in, his hands instinctively roaming over her bare skin. But then he groaned again softly, almost painfully, his fingers pausing as his grip tightened around her waist. “What happened to let me lead?” he rasped; his voice thick with restraint.

Her breath hitched at his words, her lips parting as if to respond with a half-hearted apology, but before she could, his hands were already sliding down her body, reclaiming control. His fingers traced her bra straps, slipping them off her shoulders with excruciating slowness. “I need to do it my way,” he murmured, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “If you don’t behave... this ends before we even begin.”

The meaning of his earlier words hit her then, her body stiffening as realization dawned. He wasn’t just leading to take his time with her; he was fighting to keep from losing control, from coming right there in his pants. Her teasing grin faltered, replaced with a softer expression. “Oh,” she whispered, her voice quieter now, laced with understanding. “I didn’t realize…” Her fingers gently grazed his cheek, guilt creeping into her tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.”

Bucky tensed slightly at her touch, inwardly cursing himself for letting his vulnerability slip. His masculine pride stung. Great job, Barnes. Way to cool the mood. He forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers in an attempt to brush off the tension. “It’s alright,” he muttered, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. His fingers dug into her hips just a little, grounding himself. “I just... got worked up faster than I expected.” He exhaled shakily, trying to ease the tension. Then he started to move.

As his fingers worked at the clasp of her bra, his touch slow and deliberate, he broke the silence with a low murmur, his voice thick with desire, yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. “You know… I liked you from the moment we bumped into each other on the stairs,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I still remember the way you looked at me, even after I knocked you off balance and grabbed your arm. No gloves, metal hand out in the open… but you didn’t flinch.”

She smiled softly at the memory, her breath hitching slightly as the tension between them simmered. When her bra fell away, his gaze dropped to her exposed breasts, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. His flesh hand cupped her gently, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a slow, teasing motion.

“I loved how your uniform looked on you then,” he continued, his voice growing huskier as his metal hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer. “I still do. Every time I see you in it, it makes it hard to focus on anything else.”

His thumb continued its slow teasing, but then his expression shifted, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. His voice dropped, a hint of regret slipping into his words. “I wish I’d asked you out sooner. The old me… he would've handled this better. Would’ve known exactly how to...”

She cut him off before he could finish, her eyes fierce, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. “Stop,” she said firmly, her voice soft but unwavering. “The moment of ‘what if’ has passed. I don't want the man you used to be.” Her lips brushed against his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. “I want you. Not someone I never knew.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them fixing his gaze on hers. She wasn’t looking for the version of him with the effortless charm and swagger. She never did. She wanted him, baggage, scars, and everything else.

A slow, shaky breath escaped him, his grip on her tightening as a flicker of vulnerability passed through his eyes. “You don’t know how much that means,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips brushing against her jaw, then down to her neck. His movements were soft at first, but as her hands gripped his shoulders, urging him on, the hesitation melted away.

His mouth found hers again, kissing her hard, his hands moving with more confidence again. “I’ve wanted this... you,” he rasped, his breath hot against her skin. “For so damn long.” She responded with a moan, her body arching into him as he took full control.

Bucky groaned, unable to hold back any longer as the tension between them reached its peak. He gently shifted her off his lap, laying her down on the couch, his hands lingering on her hips for a moment before he stood. His breath was heavy, and though his chest tightened with familiar insecurities, especially about his arm, he pushed forward.

His fingers moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. As the fabric fell to the floor, his eyes darted to her face, half-expecting some flicker of hesitation or doubt. Instead, her gaze roamed over him, dark with desire as her eyes took in the hard lines of his chest. “Damn... you’re perfect.” Her voice came out breath and soft. Swallowing hard, Bucky quickly slid his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, kicking them aside. Now fully bare before her, he stood there, his chest rising and falling as her gaze lingered on him. He could see her eyes focused on his size, her lips parted as she let out a soft, breathless sound. The way she looked at him -no hesitation, only hunger- made his insecurities, the doubts about his scars, his arm, everything, to retract to a far corner of his mind.

Without a word, he climbed on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, their bodies pressed together, heat and tension coiling between them. His hands trailed down her sides, gripping her hips firmly as he pulled her closer. Slowly, he guided his cock to her slick entrance, teasing her folds as he coated his shaft with her wetness. A low, rumbling groan escaped his lips as he playfully rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure through her.

Her body reacted instantly, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she writhed beneath him. “Bucky…” she moaned softly, her hips tilting up toward him, her body aching for more.

He moved slowly, sliding inside her inch by inch, and paused as soon as he was fully sheathed, giving her a moment to adjust. Her body clenched tightly around him, a gasp escaping her lips as her nails dug into his shoulders. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, the sensation of him filling her completely overwhelming her. The tight heat of her body had him teetering on the edge, but he held back, determined to give her time.

He pulled back slightly, then pushed forward again, slowly and deliberately, testing her response. Her breath hitched, her thighs trembling around his hips with each thrust. She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut as she struggled to find her breath.

“Fuck, Bucky,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice barely audible but heavy with surprise and awe. “You’re… big. I’ve never... God!”

Her words sparked something deep within him, the mixture of vulnerability and pleasure igniting a fire he could barely contain. A low growl rumbled in his throat as his control began to slip. His hands moved to the back of her thighs, gripping them firmly just beneath her knees, then in one swift motion, he lifted her legs, spreading her wider as he started to thrust deeper, hitting spots that made her eyes fly open, a strangled moan escaping her lips. “Bucky… oh my God,” she gasped, her voice trembling as she struggled to take all of him.

Encouraged by her reaction, Bucky picked up the pace, his thrusts growing harder and faster, losing himself in the haze of lust that overtook him. He pulled her thighs higher, spreading her wider, driving into her with relentless force. Each thrust was deeper and rougher, and her moans quickly turned into desperate, breathless cries of pleasure.

The sound of her moans, the way she cried out his name, only fueled him further. “You like that?” he growled, his voice low and ragged as he thrust into her again, deeper, harder. Her slick heat gripped him tighter with every movement, making his pulse race. “Look at me, Doll. You like it rough?”

Her body arched beneath him, her hands scrambling for something to hold onto as the intensity of his thrusts tore through her. “Yes! Bucky… fuck! Don’t stop,” she moaned, her voice breaking as he kept his relentless, punishing pace.

“Oh, I won’t stop,” he growled, pulling out of her with a slick sound, only to flip her over onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips roughly, pulling her ass up and positioning her on all fours before she had time to catch her breath.

Before she could process the shift, Bucky slammed back into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her fingers clutching at the couch cushions as he drove into her from behind, his pace unrelenting. “Is this what you wanted?” he rasped, his flesh hand sliding up her back before grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back slightly as his hips pistoned against her, thrusting deep and hard.

She let out a scream of pleasure, her body trembling as he pounded into her. “Yes! Oh God, yes,” she cried, her voice hoarse, her body helpless under his rough control.

Bucky grunted with each powerful thrust, his grip on her hair tightening, his metal hand digging into her hip, guiding her back onto him. The angle allowed him to go even deeper, kissing her cervix with every push of his hips. Her moans only spurred him on, the rhythm of their bodies frantic and primal, skin slapping against skin.

He released her hair and grabbed both her hips, yanking her back onto his cock with force, losing himself in the haze of lust. “Come for me,” he growled, his hand coming down on her ass with a sharp smack, making her gasp.

Before she could recover, his hand slid between her legs, his fingers finding her clit. He circled it with firm, deliberate pressure, his voice rough as he leaned over her, thrusting deeper still. “I want you to come all over me, Doll.” The moment his fingers found her swollen nub, her body responded, hips bucking involuntarily as her breath hitched. The pressure building inside her hit its peak, and with a loud, desperate moan, she shattered beneath him, her body trembling violently as she came hard.

The feel of her tight, wet heat spasming around him was too much for Bucky to handle. He let out a guttural moan, his hips slamming into her as his own release took hold. “Fuck,” he growled, his voice ragged as his body tensed, and he came hard, spilling thick, hot spurts into her. His hips jerked involuntarily with each wave of pleasure, the intensity of his orgasm hitting him harder than he’d expected. He gasped, his forehead falling to her back as he rode out the aftershocks, his cock pulsing inside her, still surrounded by the tight, wet heat of her body.

The sound of their heavy breathing filled the room, the intensity of their release leaving them trembling, their bodies slick with sweat. Bucky stayed inside her for a moment longer, his fingers lazily circling her clit, drawing out her pleasure as her body continued to spasm beneath him. But as the haze of bliss began to fade, his mind started to catch up with his body, and a flicker of doubt crept in. Had he been… too much?

Slowly, he withdrew from her, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. His hand slid up to her shoulder, gentle, almost tentative. “Are you okay?” His voice was low, uncertainty laced in every word.

She turned her head slightly, her cheek pressing into the cushion as her hooded eyes found his. “I’m better than okay,” she murmured. “That was... perfect, Buck.”

He exhaled, feeling the tension in his body ease, but his mind refused to quiet. What if she was trying to play it cool after being on the receiving end of nearly 80 years of pent-up frustration?

Sensing his unease, she shifted, sitting up on the couch. Her hands cradled his face, her thumbs gently brushing against his skin. He looked almost miserable for someone who had, minutes ago, been nothing short of a god of intercourse.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky,” she said, her voice firm yet warm. “I meant it when I said it was perfect. Stop overthinking. It was the best I’ve ever had.” Her cheeks flushed as she realized the weight of her words, but she didn’t back down. “I mean it,” she added, her voice softening as her gaze dropped for a moment, the blush deepening. “It really was the best I’ve ever had.”

The tension in his body slowly began to melt away as he absorbed her words, a flicker of relief washing over him. His breathing steadied, and the storm of doubts in his mind started to quiet. He looked down, feeling a pang of guilt for letting his insecurities creep in. Running a hand through his messy hair, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. I just... I get in my head sometimes.”

She gave him a gentle smile, her fingers brushing his scruffy cheek again. “You didn’t ruin anything, Bucky, not even close. If anything, the only thing you’ll have to atone for... is setting the bar pretty high.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as her words sank in. He exhaled deeply, feeling the weight on his chest finally lift. Without saying anything, he reached up, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her skin in a silent gesture of gratitude.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The silence between them wasn’t empty; it was full of understanding, unspoken promises, and the certainty that, somehow, they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics