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quemirabobo · 1 year

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I find incredible hilarious that USA sucked so bad at fútbol that they went and created a whole new sport with the same name just so they could be good at it (because literally no one besides them play that shit)

#manchild behavior as always #and then they decided to call fútbol 'soccer' (again a change no one else followed) gods know why #go cry on a corner and learn how to kick a ball idiots

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babyanimalses · 7 months

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Learn Colors&Street Vehicles Names | Soccer Balls Color changing Vehicle...

#learn colors street vehicles soccer balls vehicles names colors videos fire truck garbage truck

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chaconnenha · 17 days

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⌇ WANNA BE A WINNER 𓄹

❪ ꕤ ❫───엔하이픈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍

OR. he is used to you chasing after him . . . so what happens when the tables are turned ? && crush!en- x f!reader % hc format ( jealousy, pet names, mention of food, kissing )

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 doesn't think twice when he sees you on the bleachers at his basketball game, because he's gotten so used to seeing you there, cheering him on whenever he scores and waving enthusiastically when he looks your way... only to find himself doing a double take when he notices you talking to the members of the opposition's team. stands there for a while with a tilted head as he wonders why it is you're giggling and twirling your hair, batting your eyelashes at whatever it was the guy was saying. and he really shouldn't have been so annoyed, seeing as you're free to talk to whoever you like... but for some reason, he finds himself purposely missing a shot and causing the ball to roll over to where you and your friends are sitting, just so he has an excuse to walk over there after your pick up the ball, before kissing you on the cheek as he takes ball back. "thanks, baby," he says, before walking away again.... but of course, not without one last cocky smirk to the other guy when he sees your flustered expression, and a promise to ask you out properly after he wins this game.

more under the cut !

𝐉𝐀𝐘, who has gotten used to seeing snacks on his desk along with little notes whenever he wakes up from his nap, feels like he's been thrown into an alternate universe when he looks up one day to find that his desk his completely empty. looks around, and asks his deskmate if you came by today, only for them to shake their head and say that they haven't seen you all day. doesn't think too much about it at first, thinking that you may be busy... only to notice that it continues a few days straight. decides to walk to your class one day, completely forgoing his usual nap, just to see if you're okay, because as much as he wouldn't admit it, anyone could tell he was worried about you. so imagine his surprise when he walks up behind you while you're talking to your friends, just to learn you've been doing it on purpose to make him miss you. crosses his arms and leans down to your ear with a smirk, causing your heart to fly out of your chest when you realise he was there all along. "okay, you win." because he really did miss you... maybe even more than you had planned.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 probably takes a while to figure out that you're avoiding him, but only because he genuinely believes you when you say you're busy when he asks why you can't make it to his soccer game. he knows that you have a life outside of school, so he can't feel upset... but everyone (his teammates, his friends, his coach, his neighbour, his dog...) notices that he is walking around the field like a depressed puppy whose owner doesn't want to play with him, and it's all because you're not in your usual seat, cheering him on while wearing his number like you usually do. and it makes him realise just how much you were becoming his lucky charm, just as you had boldly proclaimed you would be. and so that's how he finds himself waiting for you after you're finished your classes for the day, before wrapping his arms around you in a hug, not caring about the wolf whistles and the cheers coming from all the students and teachers who stood watching around you, or the way you stuttered his name in protest because of how he was acting in public... all he could think about was how he was a fool for not making you his to begin with.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 can't remember when you haven't been next to him. from the first day of school, you were the one beside him, helping him in class whenever he had to catch up on work that he missed because of his figure skating career, saving him a seat on the bus because you knew he would always end up being five minutes late out of class. so when he comes back from a week off from school, he is visibly taken aback when you walk in and take a seat at the front of the classroom, next to some other guy who he didn't even know existed until now. doesn't buy it for a second when his new seatmate explains that you had to switch because you had trouble seeing, and burns holes into the back of your head for the entire lesson, intensifying his glare when you and your new seatmate are a tad too close for comfort, heads bumping against each other as you whisper about the answers to the questions, like you used to do with sunghoon. can't seem to catch you alone for the rest of the day, so he waits for the end of the day, when you guys catch the bus together, and makes sure that he gets there before you do... so that when you try and sit next to someone else, he pulls you down in the seat he saved next to him, before leaning his head on your shoulder, his hand wrapped around your smaller one. "stay here, please..." because you’re the only one he wants beside him, and he wants to be the only one next to you.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 knows immediately that something isn't right when you don't ask for his help with your club projects. being in the photography club, you love to remind him how he is your favourite model, and you make it painfully obvious whenever you beg him to let you take his pictures. imagine his surprise and offense when you no longer seek him out first, but some other guy in a different class, who you keep positing pictures of on the school newsletter, where you used to post his pictures instead. he instantly makes a plan to win you back and become your favourite once again, even going as far as to rock up to school the next day with blonde hair that makes everyone stop and stare... except you, the person who is usually the first to jump on the train of people to praise him. he realises at that moment that this goes beyond just his pride; he genuinely just wants to be able to make you smile like before. so imagine your surprise when you open the newsletter for the next week, to find a candid photo of you looking at your camera, hair blowing in the wind and a smile on your face, with the caption "prettiest girl in our grade" followed by, "taken by kim sunoo".

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 does not beat around the bush. so the first time you walk by him in the hallway without so much as uttering a "hi," he immediately knows he needs to confront you about it, because not a single day has passed in the time that you've known each other where you haven't jumped on him (figuratively, of course) whenever the chance arises so you can chat his ear off about something or other. and he doesn't like the feeling he gets seeing you give him the cold shoulder for reasons he has no idea about. so the next time you pass him by without saying anything, he's grabbing your wrist and tugging you down the hallway, ignoring the squeals from your friends as he pulls you into the janitor's closet. "why are you avoiding me?" he demands, frowning. but then the two of you are rendered blushing incoherent messes when you try to escape the room... only to trip on your own two feet and fall into his arms, your lips bumping against each other in the process. (but even though it's an accident, jungwon thinks that he really likes this feeling alot.)

𝐍𝐈-𝐊𝐈 is an absolute menace, and you are probably one of the only people in the world other than his mother that can put up with him. it really surprises people to see you follow him around, cooking him bentos and fixing his tie for him because he always fails at doing it himself, only to find out that you're not his girlfriend. ni-ki himself probably doesn't even realise how much you've been taking care of him until you stop showing your face around his classroom at lunch, and no longer nag him about his uniform or his hair being messy. instead, he's left to watch as you turn around whenever you see him, purposely changing paths so you don't bump into each other. no one is surprised when he jumps over a fence just so he can catch up to you after you try to run away after making eye contact with him for the hundredth time. you end up blurting your feelings for him before he can ask, and while you brace yourself for rejection, he's already kissing you like he hasn't seen you for months... and wondering why he never did it sooner.

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celestie0 · 2 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere.

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him.

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.”

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already.

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it.

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead.

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?”

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says.

You glance at the time. 11:56am.

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.”

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.”

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest.

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.”

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings.

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you.

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them.

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed.

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately.

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible.

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before.

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks.

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks.

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase.

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby.

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you.

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you.

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded.

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you.

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.”

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long.

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing.

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before.

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.”

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door.

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously.

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm.

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?”

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest.

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious.

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him.

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how.

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it.

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters.

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly.

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.”

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been.

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly.

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too.

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you.

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly.

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck.

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area.

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.”

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?”

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says.

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.”

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.”

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him.

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back.

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear.

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake.

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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cameronspecial · 6 months

Note

Saw your post asking for Zach Maclaren request so here I am!

What about reader getting run over by the car instead of Zach and she looses her memory kinda like the movie but reversed? She thinks Zach is her bf cause she has a bf named Zach but he’s an asshole.

The Other Zach

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Getting Hit By A Car

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

Yet another argument with her boyfriend. Yet another time she is walking home upset. Even worse, it’s three in the afternoon so everyone on the street can watch her sad walk home. She feels like everyone around her is staring, judging her for staying with such a dick. As she walks across the parking lot with her head in the clouds, a soccer ball comes rolling toward her. Y/N’s eyes dart up to see Zach MacLaren walking over to her with a big smile, pointing down at the ball to ask her to send it over. She bends down to pick it up, but as she starts to straighten out, a sudden force from behind her sends her head smashing to the pavement.

Zach watches the whole thing happen before his very eyes. He screams at his sister’s soccer team to stay there and runs to make sure the driver doesn’t try to keep reversing over Y/N. Everyone knew her. She works at the cafe on campus and is known to brighten everyone’s day. Once the driver knows he hit someone and is on the phone with the dispatcher, Zach goes to check on Y/N. She is out cold and this causes him to panic. He checks for a pulse. Relief floods him when he finds one and it is only a matter of her waking up. Her eyes flutter open and her vision is blurry. There is a face over her that she can’t make out. “My name is Zach,” she overhears the unidentifiable face. Her boyfriend. He must have gone after her to apologize. She starts to see more clearly and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips try to find him, but he pulls away. “Hey, take it easy. You got hit pretty hard in the noggin,” he advises, looking up at the sound of the ambulance.

——

The paramedics are about to take Y/N away, but she stops them from taking her. She looks at Zack, “Aren’t you going to come with me?.” He looks at her and his heart is pulling him to enter the vehicle, but he doesn’t feel it is right. He has no relation to her in any way. The paramedic counsels it might be better if he comes to help keep her calm and now, he feels he has no choice. “Of course, I just need to make sure an adult can stay with my soccer team. I’ll be right back,” he informs. He heads over to the field’s sidelines, talking to one of the waiting moms about what happened. He is reassured that she will make sure all the kids get home safely, so he heads back to the ambulance.

After the doctor does his assessment, Zach and Y/N learn she has a concussion and probably amnesia. Zach could definitely a test to the last part since she seems to think he is her boyfriend. “Sweetie, what happened are you okay?” an older woman, who looks like Y/N, frets, rushing to her. Zach assumes this is Y/N’s mom and goes in to reassure her, “She has a mild concussion and amnesia.” The man with the mother raises his eyebrow. “And are you her doctor?” he questions. Zach shakes his head, “No, I’m Zach. I was with her when she got hit by the car.” The man nods and her mother’s eyes light up. “So you’re the boyfriend. It is so nice to meet you, I’m Kim and this is Gary. We are Y/N’s parents. She’s told us so much about you,” Kim introduces. Y/N goes on to complain, “Way to keep it cool, Mom.” “I’m sorry, Sweetie. But he is so cute and seems nice,” Kim apologizes. Zach feels strange about just letting the family believe he is actually Y/N’s boyfriend, but there isn’t exactly a good time to say that while in the hospital. The doctor returns to speak with her parent, so Zach excuses himself to call someone for advice.

“Guess where I am,” he whispers into the phone. Zoey checks the time, “Coaching your sister’s soccer practice?” “No. I’m at the hospital,” he replies. She sits up from her lying position on the couch, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. It’s just that Y/N Y/L/N got hit by a car. Now, she and her whole family think I am her boyfriend.”

“Elle says she is dating a Zach. Zach Davis. He’s the captain of the hockey team. She just sent you his Insta.”

While Zach scrolls through the other Zach’s profile, the doctor catches his attention. “Oh, and Mr. Boyfriend. Make sure she stays calm. We wouldn’t want anything stressing her out and making her conduction worse,” she instructs before walking off. Zach groans into the phone, “What am I supposed to do if I can’t stress her out?” “Okay, calm down. Just take her parents aside and let them break the news to her,” Zoey explains. Calm washes over his face, “Yes, that’s a great idea. You are one smart cookie, Zoey Miller.” They bid their goodbyes and he heads back to the Y/L/Ns.

“Zach, you’re back. We were just talking about you. How would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” Kim asks, helping Y/N sit up so she can get ready to be discharged. It’s like the perfect opportunity falls into his lap.

——

He walks into the Y/L/N’s residence, helping Y/N onto the couch. “Your parents have a nice house,” he looks around the room. As soon as they are settled on the couch, a little boy pops up from behind the couch with a scream. A man a little bit older than Zach sets himself on the chair beside the couch. “Connor, don’t scare her. She has a concussion,” he chides the younger boy. Y/N sighs, “Zach, this is my little brother, Connor. And my older brother, uhh…” “Jared. His name is Jared,” Connor offers with a devious smile. Y/N nods, “Right, Jared. This is my older brother, Jared.” Zach sees Connor’s giggles and leans towards her, “I think he is messing with you, Baby.” “Oh. I think you are right,” she rubs her forehead, trying to remember her brother’s name. “Jack. His name is Jack.” Jack lets out a cheer and holds out his hand for Zach to take.

Soon, dinner is served and Zach sits beside Y/N. As Connor is recounting his day, Y/N goes to whisper in his ear, “Thank you for keeping up with my strange family. I know you didn’t want to meet them, but it means a lot that you are here.” Zach feels bad at the words she says. Why wouldn’t her real boyfriend want to meet her family? They are so kind and funny. And Y/N is amazing. Even with a concussion, she is so bright and genuine. He has always had a little bit of a crush on her, ever since she gave him a coffee on the house when she saw he was having a hard day. She wrote his name with a happy face and little hearts, which made his day. Sometimes he finds himself going where she works just to see her smile.

“No problem. I think your family is great,” he says, looking at her with a smile. She grins back at him and slides her fingers through his hand on his lap. “Well, if you think we are so great, why don’t you come skiing with us this weekend?” Gary suggests, overhearing the whispers between his daughter and her (not) boyfriend. Zach knows the words about to come out of his mouth shouldn’t be the ones that follow, but he really does like her family and he wants to get the opportunity to get to know her better. He knows it is wrong to take Y/N’s moment of confusion and to take it as a chance to fill his delusion. However, he really doesn’t see any harm in pretending for the weekend.

——

“Are you sure you don’t want to hit the slopes? You don’t have to stay behind just for me,” Y/N double-checks, looking at him behind the couch. He sits on the back of the couch and lets himself flop back on the seat cushion. He nods, “Yep. I think it would be nice to hang out with you.” “Really? Well, I’m a very busy gal, I have to check my schedule,” she teases, taking out her phone to look at her calendar. “Oh, look at that the only thing I have planned is to have a concussion. I guess we can hang out.” He grins at her and sits up, scooting closer to her. She scoots over to sit beside him, putting herself under his arms, which makes him happy. “What should we do?” he inquires, looking down at her with a smile. She plays at putting thought into it and drags him to the game room.

They head over to the air hockey table, but she notices Zach’s gaze toward the foosball table. “We can play foosball if you’d like. I just thought you would like air hockey more since you are on the team,” she explains, changing way toward the other table. Zach has to quickly cover his tracks, “Uh, yeah. I do like hockey, but I’m better at foosball than air hockey.”

The game they play fills the room with laughter. Zach would yell at her for cheating by spinning her knob, while she would argue she is just using her tools to her advantage. After her last spin causes the tiny ball to sail through the hole for the goal, Zach runs around to her side and picks her up by the waist. “That is the last time you cheat!” he playfully reprimands. Her laughter stops and her hand flies to her head. She starts to move in a dizzy-like motion with her hand still stuck to her head. “Are you okay? Did I grab you too hard? What can I do?” he worries, removing his hands from her to look into her eyes. The tiny giggles she lets out make him feel like she is evil, “I’m just playing with you. I’m sorry. But you can make us something to eat. I can’t use any screens and I have absolutely no recipes memorized.”

——

She watched him in amazement as he made the pizza. She found it incredibly hot to watch him toss the pizza dough in the air. He flicked a little flour at her and she ran away with a shriek. After getting the pizza out of the oven, he helps her up onto the counter and cuts the food. She takes the first bite and the moan she lets out absolutely kills Zach. He finds the pizza held out in front of his mouth, taking a bite at her encouragement. He really hopes the food hides his blush. “This tastes great! Where did you learn how to cook?” she praises, going in for another bite. His blush deepens, “I took lessons as a kid. It was really fun.” Her eyebrows raised. “Really? I always saw you as a more, I will only do hockey because hockey is my life kind of guy.”

“Right, hockey. I love socc- I love so much hockey, but I don’t think hockey is what I’m going to do after graduation.”

“Why not? If you like it so much, why don’t you go pro?”

“I do like it, but let’s be honest, I’m not good enough to get drafted. Truth is I don’t know what I’m going to do after graduation.”

“I haven’t seen you play hockey much or really understand how it is played, but I’m sure that isn’t true. But anyway, if you don’t think hockey is your thing, I think opening a pizza place is your path. This is great.”

Although she doesn’t know he is talking about soccer, he loves that she can see him passed the athlete and see a different part of him. Most people he knows are just interested in him because of his sport. “So what do you want to do after graduation?” he questions, picking up another slice for himself. Her eyes light up, “I’m not too sure yet. I know I’m a computer science major, but I really just chose it because it can be a useful fallback. I think maybe I want to travel around the world and take pictures.” He is touched that she is so open and honest with her answer. He likes that even though her future seems uncertain, she is still hopeful about it. “That sounds amazing. If you need a travelling partner, then I would gladly go with you. I’m sure you are an amazing photographer,” he encourages. Again, a confused look crosses her face, “I thought you hated going outside of the US. You said that nothing good happens outside of America.” Zach fears that his lies are going to start to unravel. The universe seems to come in for the assist because her family comes back at that moment.

“Hey, you two. What did you do today?” Kim ponders, giving Y/N a kiss on her cheek. She smiles at her mom, “What didn’t we do?” Everyone over the age of eighteen widens their eyes and Zach helps clear things up. “All PG.” Completely missing the moment Connor pats his pockets. “I left my gloves at the lodge. We have to go back,” he panics. Zach jumps off the counter and pats his back, “Don’t worry, Con. Y/N and I can go with you to get it.”

They get to the lodge and Connor runs inside to get his gloves. Zach turns to Y/N to find her making a snowman. “Need some help?” he proposes, walking over to her. She nods with a smile and they get to work on the snowman. She makes the middle part while he forms the bottom and once she is done, she picks it up to bring it to him. She trips over her feet and goes flying toward him. He catches her as he falls back. The snow from her ball smushes between them. They both sit up while laughing. Her hair falls over her face and he brushes it out of the way, leaving his warm hand on her cheek. The sun lightens her hair and this moment feels perfect. He has been avoiding kissing her to not take advantage of her, but it felt right in the moment. His lips find hers and fireworks spark between them. He scoots forward to deepen the kiss, bringing his other hand up to her cheek until Connor comes out and ruins the kiss.

——

The weekend comes to an end too fast for Zach. The group recounts their highlights of the mini-vacation, laughing that Connor’s favourite part was playing Battletoads with Zach. Zach is helping Y/N with her bags when the engine of a car catches their attention. “Y/N Y/L/N, you haven’t been answering my texts,” a low voice growls. Y/N freezes at the voice and turns toward the man. Distress washes over her, “Who are you?” She takes a step closer to Zach and he wants to curl his arms around her to make her feel protected. “Who am I? I’m Zach Davis, your boyfriend,” he shouts with his eyebrow knitted. Now, her family looks confused. “You can’t be her boyfriend because he is her boyfriend,” Gary points out, looking toward Zach. Her real boyfriend lets out a low laugh, “Of course, that bitch is cheating on me. Why am I not surprised?” Anger flushes through Zach.

“Hey! Don’t talk about her like that. She isn’t cheating on you. It’s my fault she isn’t answering your texts; I lied to her. She got hit by a car and lost her memory. My name is also Zach and she thought I was her boyfriend. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth,” Zach clarifies. “I’m sorry for lying, Y/N. I just wanted to get to know you and I’m glad I got to because you really are the most amazing person I have ever met. I’m going to go now before I make this more awkward.” Before Zach is out of hearing distance, he can hear Connor complaining that he is better than Y/N’s actual boyfriend. This causes a sad smile to form on Zach’s face.

——

It has been weeks since he last saw Y/N. He has been too embarrassed to go back to her parents’ house and only goes to class then back home. Zach is used to being the gossip of the campus because he is on the soccer team, but it feels a little different when people are talking about his deception. Zoey enters his dorm to find Zach watching a cooking show while eating ice cream. “You can’t just stay up here for the rest of your life,” she critiques, opening his curtains. He ignores her gaze, “Yes, I can. She said that I could open a pizza store.” His mind is blank except for thoughts of her. “I know she did. You’ve told me that a hundred times already,” Zoey gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“Why did I have to mess up so badly?”

“Because you were blinded by love. I can’t believe I just said that. But you like her. That’s why.”

“Right, and I had to lie to her, which broke her trust. Now, she is happily off with Zach Davis.”

“You know they broke up, right? Like literally right after the ski trip.”

“Really? Why?”

“That’s only a question that she can answer.”

——

Zach has been thinking about it all day and has decided to go see Y/N. Her bright smile is the first thing he sees when he enters the coffee shop. It makes his heart leap when it doesn’t drop at the sight of him. Instead, it softens, somehow getting warmer. “Hi,” he awkwardly greets, hand shooting up to the back of his neck. She breaths out, “Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You disappeared on me the other day.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would want to see me after you found out the truth.”

She whispers something to her co-worker and rounds the counter, taking off her apron on the way. She stands in front of him and takes his hand in hers. “I was a little upset at first, but then I realized that I couldn’t be mad at you. Do you want to know why?” she confesses. He nods his head like a child in anticipation. “Cause you are the Zach I want to be with. You helped me realize how much of an asshole Davis was to me. You treated me with so much love and made me feel safe.” Zach is ecstatic at her words and rushes forward to give her the kiss they have both been waiting for. It is soft but passionate, showing the need they both felt for each other. His arms round her body, engulfing her in the safety of his embrace. Zach Maclaren can’t believe he has found love with the girl he has always wanted.

#zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #the other zoey #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x you

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kaiser1ns · 1 month

Text

𝘀𝗮𝗲/𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 (𝘀𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲)

╹synopsis :: your boyfriend gets jealous because of your photoshoot with another footballer player

╹contents :: fluff, a little bit ooc, sae gets jealous of kaiser, kaiser gets jealous of sae, dramatic and sassy boys, 0.5k words for Sae , 0.5k words for Kaiser

╹notes :: just randomly thought of this, hope you liked!

ITOSHI SAE

He doesn't like social media for the sole reason that he can see something that he didn't needed to know about. And now he wants to delete every app he has on his phone and sue the company who thought that you being next to Michael Kaiser was a very good idea. Marketing strategy to put two very famous people who are liked all over the world so they can attract more attention and sales. He knew you had a upcoming photoshoot, but you didn't mention anything else about it and now as Sae scrolls through the Instagram page of the sport sponsor's photos, looking how you put your head on the German's shoulder, the other photo of him that has his wrapped around your waist, then you holding soccer ball all smiles and giggles. It makes him want to vomit and gouge his eyes out.

"I can't believe they paired you with Michael Kaiser," he mutters, his voice tinged with jealousy, narrowing his eyes as his grip around the mobile tightened. You know him better than anyone else including himself and for all of the years you have been together — he gets extremely sassy when jealous. His famous stoic and nonchalant demeanor, rarely revealing his emotions can't fool his girlfriend. You reach out to take the phone from his hands, you persisted, your fingers playfully poking his cheek. "Sae, it's just part of the job" you reassure him, trying to calm his racing thoughts, "Are you perhaps, jealous?" but he only rolled his eyes at this comment of yours, crossing his arms and not looking at you but straight to the TV in front of him.

In response, Sae grumbled, his tone dripping with sass as he attempted to deny his emotions. "I am not," he insisted, though the dramatic flair in his voice betrayed him.

"Yes, you are~" you teased him, knowing that he can't lie to you, and he too does know that.

"No," he protested, though his resolve was weakening under your gaze.

"Oh, you definitely are," you persisted, refusing to let him off the hook so easily.

"Absolutely not," he insisted, though the tension in his voice betrayed his facade.

But you knew him too well to be fooled. "No, you are not" you countered, your tone gentle yet firm.

"Yes, I am," he said without thinking, Touché Y/N. Your boyfriend always uses reverse psychology against you, so safe to say you learned from the best.

"I mean, what's next? You gonna be posing with Leonardo Luna for a perfume ad?" He turned his head and gave you a pointed look, he was so cute you wish you could take a photo of his face right now.

You laughed at his behaviour, for a man who was deemed very serious, sometimes he acted like a child being all pouty and sassy. Running your thumb over his cheekbone soothingly. "Oh, please, as if anyone could replace you," you tease, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "You're the only one who has my heart, Sae. Kaiser's just a prop in this grand show called advertising."

Sae rolls his eyes once again, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he concedes, finally relaxing against your touch. "But I will sue the company."

"Sae, no!"

MICHAEL KAISER

The German prodigy was always interested in the newest fashion trends, believe it or not, as he always spoiled you with the best quality designer clothes, jewellery, shoes, perfumes — you name it, you most definitely have it. He just adores you and wants the best for you, but right now he's wondering what he did wrong to deserve this?

Was he not enough for you, was he not the best boyfriend you ever had, was he just something temporary that you could so easily forget about?

As you walk through the door, you're met with a sight straight out of a soap opera. Your boyfriend, draped dramatically across the couch, staring at the ceiling as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

You raise an eyebrow, "My love, are you okay?"He turns to you, his expression a mix of betrayal and hurt. "Oh, nothing much. Just questioning my existence, like why did my girlfriend decides to do a photoshoot for the cover of a magazine with another guy?"

You blink, trying to process. "Wait, what? You mean the Versace shoot?"

He sits up suddenly, his eyes widened of you casually talking about it "Oh, of course, thanks for admitting your mistake. Because everyone casually poses for Versace with Itoshi Sae, right? It's just your average Tuesday activity."

You can't help but laugh at his overreacting theatrics. "It's not like I'm going to run away with him. Or do you want me to?" He crosses his arms, still pouting. "Hmm, maybe. Since you clearly don't love me anymore."

You playfully roll your eyes, moving to sit beside him, "When they called you to be the model, you were busy with the Euro finals." Kaiser was about to open his mouth to defend himself but he sure was busy when the photoshoot took place. "Besides it's just Sae, nothing to worry about. He couldn't care less about others." He sighs dramatically, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You smirked and wanted to tease him more, knowing how much he disliked a certain someone. "Exactly! Imagine if it were Yoichi instead of Sae. You'd probably start a protest outside the magazine headquarters."

He feigns offense, as he stood up from the coach. "My girlfriend and that sucker on the cover together? I'd have to kill him for real this time."

You grabbed his arm and pulled him to sit on the couch again, hugging him and kissing his temple as you played with the blue hair of the mullet. "Don't be silly now. You know I will never leave you, no matter what." He melted into your embrace, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I know. Just don't go giving me a heart attack with those Isagi jumpscares, okay?" You pressed a reassuring kiss to his cheek. "You have my word," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. "I promise no more Isagi jumpscares." He chuckled softly, leaning into your touch. "Good, because I don't think my heart can take it." With a playful glint in your eye, you added, "Unless you want me to revive you with a kiss every time."

"I would like to kiss you on different occasions, thank you."

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teapartyprincess4two · 1 month

Text

Parenthood- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Mom!reader x Dad!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW headcannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of Y/n, established relationship, I didn’t name the children but Matt has a son and a daughter in this 👍🏻

summary: head cannons of dad!Matt.

Parenthood- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

—

☆SFW

From the moment Matt met you, he knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children. Both of your children were received with so much love and joy, but Matt still had to learn how to navigate being a boy dad and a girl dad.

☆ Your firstborn is a boy and Matt can’t contain the excitement he feels when he first finds out.

☆ He’s overprotective of you throughout the entire pregnancy, ready to take care of your every need.

☆ Your son is hyper, rambunctious, curious and a force to be reckoned with. He barges into the room with so much energy balled up into his small figure that he’s bouncing off the walls.

☆ When your daughter is born, she’s the complete opposite of your son. She’s calm, quiet, and docile.

☆ It takes Matt some time to adjust to having a baby girl, but as soon as he gets in the groove of it he can’t remember what life was like before having a daughter.

☆ Matt’s playing soccer outside with your son, playing pirates, boxing, and building elaborate Lego sets with him.

☆ “No dad! We’re pirates! We have to steal all the gold!” your son explains, adjusting his make-shift eyepatch.

☆ “I thought we were ninjas?!” Matt’s out of breath, running after a fast toddler was extremely tiring.

☆ “No! We just beat the ninjas! They tried sneaking onto the ship, remember?” Your son’s imagination was too fast for Matt to keep up with.

☆ “Argh matey,” Matt replies, ready to continue with the game.

☆ But when your daughter wants attention he’s playing dress up, attending a tea party, getting his nails and makeup done, and talking to all her stuffed animals.

☆ “Daddy Miss Twinkle is mad at you for eating her cookies!” your daughter whispers, almost like she’s gossiping.

☆ Matt has lost track over which stuffed animal is which, but he’s assuming Miss Twinkle is the unicorn across from him.

☆ “I’m sorry Miss Twinkle,” he apologizes, shaking the toy’s hand.

☆ “Dad that was Lady Unicorn. Miss Twinkle is the teddy bear in the pink dress,” your daughter slaps her forehead. “Oops,” he laughs, taking a fake sip of tea.

☆ Matt has learned to be silly, fatherhood softening him and allowing him to abandon all embarrassment.

☆ “What are you wearing?” you laugh, Matt’s serious face adding to the comedy of the situation.

☆ He’s fully decked out in a pizza costume, trying to make your children laugh. “I’m a piece of pizza,” he replies goofily, putting on his best Italian accent.

☆ “You’re so silly daddy,” your son giggles. In his eyes, Matt is the funniest person on the planet.

☆ Your daughter is not as amused, but she smiles nonetheless.

☆ Matt loves doing domestic things with his little family. He’ll randomly pull out a baking sheet, all the ingredients to make cookies, and throw on an apron.

☆ “You’re doing so good, baby,” he coos, watching as your daughter throws an entire, uncracked egg into the mixing bowl. He wasn’t going to use that batch, but the words of encouragement have her smiling.

☆ Children fight all the time, especially when they’re siblings, and your kids are no exception. The year age gap doesn’t help either, so you’ll often find your kids bickering over the smallest things.

☆ “It’s not your turn to play, though!” your son attempts to reason, yanking the controller out of his sisters hands.

☆ “You played all day bozo!” she replies, sticking her tongue out at him.

☆ Matt hears the fight from his room, reluctantly getting up from his comfortable spot on his bed and walking over to where his children are.

☆ “What’s going on?” he asks, arms crossed and a displeased look etched on his face.

☆ “She’s being so annoying, dad!” your son exclaims, and before Matt knows it his kids are pushing, slapping, and punching each other.

☆ “HEY! BEHAVE!” Matt pulls them off of each other, scolding them both without favoritism. He goes on to lecture them about the importance of siblings and doesn’t leave until they hug and make up.

☆ Matt’s entire camera roll is filled with videos and pictures of his kids. Kindergarten ceremonies, family vacations, first haircuts, candid photos; all of it is being documented by Matt at all times.

☆ If he’s ever away from home for a long time, he’s scrolling through his gallery and reminiscing on all his memories with his babies.

☆ Your son is obsessed with video games, something that he and Matt bond over. And although your daughter isn’t as invested, she’s still really good at them.

☆ Mortal Kombat is a game they all play and enjoy together.

☆ “Move over and watch the queen play,” your daughter jokes, taking the controller from Matt after watching him lose time and time again to her brother.

☆ “Yeah, you wish you could beat me,” your son scoffs, readying up for another round.

☆ Your daughter chooses a girly character, which has your son rolling his eyes, but as soon as the round begins he can’t get a single hit in.

☆ Matt is in shock at her level of expertise, she was using combos he didn’t even know about.

☆ “Okay my turn against you, babygirl,” Matt takes the controller from his son, ready to play all night long if he has to.

☆ Having teenagers is hard and tiring, Matt feels like he ages 10 years in just one day with the amount of stress his kids cause him.

☆ Your daughter’s brain is suddenly occupied with nothing but boys and your son is starting to take girls on dates.

☆ “That skirt is too short,” you warn your daughter.

☆ “It is not,” she fights back, genuinely finding nothing wrong with her provocative outfit.

☆ Matt doesn’t have to say anything, one stern look has her trudging back upstairs to change.

☆ “Dad can I borrow the car?” your son asks nervously, avoiding Matt’s eyes at all costs.

☆ “For?” Matt’s not stupid, he knows what teenagers do.

☆ “Nothing, just hanging with some friends,” your son replies, but it doesn’t take long for Matt to get the truth out of him.

☆ Overall, fatherhood has been extremely rewarding for Matt. He sees it in the way his children love and look out for each other and what a great mom you are.

☆ “I love you guys so much,” Matt gushes, pulling the three of you in for a group hug.

☆ “Dad stop being weird,” your son groans, your daughter seconds his statement, but they don’t pull away from the hug.

☆NSFW

Having two children can take up a lot of personal time, especially when your daughter needs you and your son needs Matt. There’s never really any time for you and Matt to just exist as a couple, but he works hard to make sure you feel special everyday.

☆ You’re cooking lunch, the pure domesticity of your actions being enough to turn Matt on.

☆ The kids are still at school and if he’s convincing enough, you’ll abandon whatever’s on the stove and let him please you.

☆ Sneaky arms are wrapping around your waist, rocking you back and forth to the beat of the music that plays lowly in the background.

☆ Matt’s lips find your neck, your head falling back onto his shoulder in pleasure.

☆ Before you know it, you’re bent over the kitchen counter and Matt’s balls deep in you. “Take it,” he grunts, his hands gripping your waist so tight there were sure to be bruises.

☆ The food on the stove burns and you end up ordering pizza.

☆ When the kids are old enough, you and Matt leave them at home alone while you run errands.

☆ Something as simple as a quick trip to the grocery store turns into heated, passionate car sex.

☆ The windows are foggy and the car rocks with each thrust, Matt’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you ride him in the front seat.

☆ “You’re so fucking sexy,” he grunts, falling more in love with you as you whimper out his name. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, a string of curse words falling from his lips.

☆ Most times you two just do it in the shower. It’s sweet and full of so much love.

☆ He’ll fuck you against the cold tile wall before scrubbing your back and washing your hair you.

☆ It’s the sweet moments like this that both of you cherish. “I love you so much,” he whispers, the warm water running down both your faces. “I love you too,” you reply with a smile, going in for a passionate kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: can I hear some commotion for dad Matt🎤

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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tornoleander · 5 months

Text

This moment is so funny to me. Zane dramatically looking over, about to learn his true potential.

Jay’s just getting stomped on

And they’re kicking Cole around like a soccer ball.

Like those creatures could definitely do something more harmful. They’re just being silly goofy.

#ninjago #ninjago rise of the snakes #ninjago cole #ninjago zane #ninjago jay #The Men whimpering rewatch

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bachissidehoe · 4 months

Text

“I already have a girlfriend, so stop asking me.”

“Oh you do? Congratulations Itoshi! Who is it?”

“Who is it Rin?”

“Who’s the lucky girl Rin?”

A bother. Rin thought saying something like that would get those damn reporters off his back. Why do they care so much if he has a girlfriend or not? He doesn’t even want one. But somehow not having one is worse than having one.

It may be best just to continue with the charade. Maybe having an actual real person to be his girlfriend would make them stop asking stupid fucking questions.

“Her.” He points to someone, a pretty girl he’s seen quite a few times. He knows her as a journalist for the Blue Lock organization, but he never cared to learn her name.

Seemingly, Rin’s charade worked. The reporters left him alone after that, finally allowing him to exist in peace.

However, Rin was not prepared for the aftermath of articles being sent to him, a meeting with his coach where he was considerably reprimanded, and a barrage of texts and calls from more reporters trying to get the latest gossip on the most famous striker in the world’s new relationship with a hot older journalist.

So he finds himself in her office the next day, his head down as she too reprimands him for involving her in this in the first place.

“That being said, it would make my ex jealous.” She states, leaning back in her office chair as if she’s a principal scolding a student.

And then the charade deepened, drawing new fans to the soccer scene who were just dying to obsess over a player x journalist fantasy romance story. Suddenly Rin realized he had caused the exact opposite of what he wanted, and now he has more reporters on his ass than ever. Who would have guessed that having a relationship would be worse for him than not having a relationship?

“You have to at least look like you want to be around me. People are wondering if we got in a fight.” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at a picture from a newly released article on the two of them. Rin stands at least 4 feet away from her, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his gaze directed toward the ground.

“I went out with you. That’s not enough?” Rin rolls his eyes.

“No! We have to also look like we’re in a relationship!” She raises her voice, but drops it again when she realizes she may have been too harsh. “Just, you know, hold my hand or something.”

The normally expressionless striker suddenly finds himself beat red with his eyes wide. “Y-yeah. I get it.”

His fake girlfriend stares him down, refusing to let the short display of emotion pass them by. “Rin, have you ever done anything with a girl at all?”

“No.” He answers honestly.

“Ah, I see.”

That’s when she realized she’ll be taking the lead on this “relationship”. She finds herself both planning and coaching Rin through their “dates” and other public appearances, doing her best to prepare him for any questions they may be asked.

Maybe she’s taking this too seriously, but now they’re too deep to suddenly back out. She just has to go with it, wait at least a few months until she can announce a “breakup”. Hopefully then, that’ll be the end of it.

“I just want to let you know, it’s looking like at some point someone will ask you to kiss me for the camera.” She says, drawing her conclusion after reading the latest scoop on the two of them.

“I’ll just say no.”

“You’d refuse to kiss the girl you’re in love with?”

Rin pauses. “Hmph.” He understands his predicament.

“I figured we could just practice here, you know, since you’ve never done it before. That way you’re prepared.” She finds her cheeks growing redder, trying not to let the bottled up feelings from the last couple weeks get to her at a time like this.

It’s the same for Rin, who looks to the floor, the ceiling, and anywhere else besides her pretty eyes. Kissing her may be all it takes for him to acknowledge that maybe this isn’t as fake as he thought.

“Yeah. I guess that’s fine.” He finally answers.

So she balls her fists together, forcing herself to be mature about a measly kiss. “Look at me.”

He looks up with his eyes, though doesn’t raise his head.

So she lifts his head with her finger, just enough to bring it at an angle where she can meet his lips. He’s much taller than her, after all.

“Okay, just, close your eyes.” She whispers, they’re close enough now where she can hear his heart thumping and every short breath that escapes his slightly parted mouth.

Rin obliges, handing control over to his fake girlfriend, leaving his hands resting at his sides. He doesn’t know exactly what to do with them.

And she kisses him, just a lingering, closed-mouth peck. Her lips are so soft and warm, much different than kissing her cheek like he’s been doing for pictures. Even though it’s short, Rin can feel her hot breaths against his face.

“That was pretty good. There’s not much to it.” She says quietly, finding herself unable to move her hand away from its position under his chin.

“Hm.” Rin responds, his gaze still focused on the floor.

“Do you need to try again?” She asks, wondering if his lack of expression is due to him just not getting it.

“No.” He answers flatly.

“Oh.” His answer confuses her. Did he not like it? “Why not?” She can’t help but ask.

“I feel like I won’t want to stop.”

Continued in Part 2.

#itoshi rin #blue lock #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin fluff #fake girlfriend #bllk rin #blue lock rin #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #Rin x reader fluff #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin one shot #bllk one shot

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augustinewrites · 8 months

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when rin had been told the team was doing pr today, he thought that meant a quick interview, or maybe a photoshoot.

never in a million years would he have imagined this.

“how many more classes are there?” nagi yawns, plopping down onto a wobbly bench. “we’ve seen like eighty—”

“we’ve only seen three classes,” isagi informs them. “and i think we only have one more before we can go home.”

“finally,” rin sighs.

it’s turns out that “pr” for the day was to split the team off and send them to schools across the district. they spoke to the students who had gym that day, talked about what it was like to be an athlete, the importance of staying healthy, what it was like to go to the olympics.

it certainly wasn’t the most difficult pr task he’d been faced with during his time on the national team, but he had to admit that kids could be exhausting. with their absurd abundance of energy and never-ending cache of questions.

it’s then that the doors to the gymnasium open, prompting the three of them to stand. his two teammates greet the kids, who are practically bouncing with excitement.

but rin…his attention is drawn to you.

“hi, thank you so much for coming,” you grin, holding a hand out for him to shake. the touch lingers longer than it should, but neither of you say anything. “wow— um— i just can’t believe you’re actually here. i’m a bit of a fan…”

you’re a fan of him?

before he can open his mouth, your gaze snaps back to your students, who have swarmed his teammates.

“settle down, please,” you instruct them, managing to calm your class of 5 year olds with ease. “i know you’re all excited, but let’s give them the chance to talk and introduce themselves.”

after briefly introducing themselves, nagi and rin are comfortable letting isagi take the lead. rin, having heard his inspirational speech too many times today, lets his gaze drift over to you.

you’re smiling, listening intently along with your students. as if sensing his stare, you avert your gaze and send a small wave in his direction. his heart is a butterfly beat in his chest. maybe after this he could—

“why are you staring at our teacher?” a young boy wearing a team japan jersey asks. (rin spots his last name is on it, but the number is sae’s.

of course.)

he clears his throat, face suddenly burning with embarrassment as he wonders how much force it would take to put his head through the wall. “i wasn’t staring.”

“yes you were!” the same kid insists, and rin very briefly considers fist fighting a five year old.

“you kind of were,” nagi chimes in.

“do you have a crush on our teacher?” another student asks.

you hide what rin is sure is a smile behind your hand as he feels his palms begin to sweat.

“i— i wasn’t—”

isagi saves his ass, pulling out a signed soccer ball. “who wants to play soccer?!”

_____

“i’m sorry if they embarrassed you,” you apologize later, once the period is over. rin had managed to sneak away while nagi and isagi are signing notebooks, joining you near the entrance. “five year olds don’t have filters. i’ve learned that the hard way too.”

“it’s fine,” he waves off, noting your posture laxes in relief. “but…i kind of was.”

“what?” you ask. “staring?”

“yeah,” he admits, suddenly bashful. “i couldn’t help it. you’re…beautiful.”

“careful,” you laugh, gazing up at him. “if you keep saying stuff like that, i’m going to have to request you visit more often.”

“what if i visited tomorrow?” he blurts, because apparently grown men don’t have filters either. “to take you out for lunch?”

#itoshi rin x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x reader

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axelsagewrites · 5 months

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Can I request a modern! Jacaerys x Fem! OC fic where Rhaenyra is best friends with the OC’s mother and both Rhaenyra and the OC’s mother try to get Jacaerys and the OC to be friends and like each other but they absolutely hate each other ( like actually hate ) even when they were babies. Then, they grow up near each other and go to the same school but they still hate each other severely. During high school Jace becomes popular, and becomes the captain of his soccer team, and even gets a girlfriend while the OC is not popular by any means and is very shy and reclusive. They go off to uni, and the OC finally shows up to a frat party ( Jace’s frat ) and the tension sort of at its height, and that night and the OC accidentally ends up pregnant and they learn to love and live with each other during her pregnancy. Thank you so much if you can do this btw!!!

Jace Velaryon*Frat Party

Pairing: jace x f!reader

Word count: 1982

Warnings: rivalry, mentions of bullying, frat jace, flirty frat cregan, implied smut but nothing explicity, hate sex, accidental pregnancy, drinking

Masterlist Here

Part Two linked at end

You had no clue how someone so sweet and loving and kind and amazing could birth such an idiotic insufferable twat. Yet somehow Rhaenyra had managed to do just that. Your mother was friends with Rhaenyra, lovingly dubbed aunty Nyra by you, and were so close that they deliberately moved into the same neighbourhood. This was all be swell if not for the fact that her eldest son Jace was just such a dick.

Your mothers tried to make you like each other and constantly set up playdates but you would simply ditch Jace to play with Luke until you realised, he’d only been so quite because he was giving your barbies haircuts. Eventually some time in middle school they gave up trying but still forced you to go on joint family vacations and similar hellish events.

There was a time in your freshman year of high school you almost became friends. That summer had gone surprisingly well with you both finally being civil enough to talk to each other. Then school rolled around again and Jace got onto the high school soccer team. You congratulated him and even was debating plucking up the courage to ask him to go out to celebrate since despite how much you hated him even you thought he was cute. Then he and sara snow came waltzing out of school and in hand and you went right back to hating him.

It wasn’t just because you were jealous, which you were but refused to admit, but because Sara snow had tormented you all of your first year. And Jace knew this. He knew she would taunt you and make pig noises at you in the corridor but yet here he was sucking face with her in front of your locker which was sadly right above his.

It only got worse when he dumped her then became the captain of the team. Then came a string of girlfriends who’d fawn over him relentlessly in school. To say it was hell was an understatement especially since it always seemed to be the girls that would tease you or laugh when you walked past. Highschool sucked to say the least but finally after all these years of hard work you got the letter.

Youd got into your dream school and were set to be moving to the dorm soon. A new start, new friends, another chance. Finally. Your bubble however was popped by your usual enemy. Jace fucking Velaryon was going there as well. You basically ran him down at the joint celebratory dinner your parents threw you both to say that if he dared ruin university for you the same way he ruined high school you’d make sure he’d never kick another ball again.

So, for the first two years you had peace. You had a small circle of friends, great classes, amazing grades, and your hair finally began to cooperate with you. Aunty Nyra even joked uni had given you a glow up when she saw you this summer. What you didn’t see was the way Jace’s eyes followed you as you left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve never went to a frat party,” Aly said as she began to raid your closet, pulling out a dress and holding it to herself, “This poor dress. it deserves to see a little fun,”

You snorted at your friends as you helped straighten Sansa’s hair. “You wear it,”

“Or you could,” Sansa retorted, backing off when you held the straighteners in a way an angry mother holds a wooden spoon.

“Either you wear it, or I will,” Aly said as she tossed it on the bed and continued her raid. Your roommate Sansa had recently become friends with Aly and in an unexpected turn so had you. you and Sansa were far quieter than her, but Sansa always seemed to come back from hanging out with her with a huge smile, “Girl look at this top,” Aly broke your train of thought as she held up a black low-cut top, “How you not gonna go out when you own all these clothes?”

“My aunty got me them,”

Aly rolled her eyes as she continued her search, “Well I’m stealing the top but you’re wearing that dress,” she said and before you could even protest, she cut you off, “You are far too hot to be at home in sweats on a Saturday night. We are going,”

You sighed as you finished Sansa’s hair, but she turned to look up at you, “Cmon,” she whined, “one hour and if you don’t like it, we’ll all come back here and watch the polar express,”

You sighed yet again before pausing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After all your confidence was far better than what it once was, and you had a good few friends you knew would also be going. Your eyes wandered to the dark red dress on the bed. “Fuck it,” you said, snatching up the fabric.

“You’re coming?!” Sansa grinned, flinging herself off the bed, “Finally come on sit down. Its makeup times!”

Sansa and Aly worked their magic and soon you were walking arm in arm with both girls to the frat. And you had to say they had done a good job if you do say so yourself. Even if you were currently freezing that was. “Boys,” Aly greeted with a wide grin as she walked up to the boy at the door, Cregan you were sure.

“Troubles here,” he joked, his eyes wandering up and down, “And you brought a friend,” he said, eyes turning to you, and it was like the wind was knocked out of you when you saw his face, “Nice to meet you I’m Cregan,”

“Hi,” you grinned, quickly introducing yourself before rushing inside with a giggling Sansa and Aly.

“He was so checking you out,” Aly nudged your ribs.

“Okay maybe this was a good idea,” you laughed as she dragged you and Sansa off for some drinks.

As you stood filling your cup with cheap beer there was a set of gorgeous brown eyes watching your every move, “Dude you know that girl?” Cregan asked as he walked over with more drinks for him and Jace.

“She’s my neighbour,” he said, taking the drink and trying not to let his eyes wander again.

Cregan let out a low whistle, “If she was my neighbour, she would not be here alone,” he laughed prompting Jace to shove his elbow into his ribs, “Hey man!”

Meanwhile you had somehow been convinced to head to the dance floor. Perhaps the three drinks Aly had got you and the buzz in your head had helped. The night had been going surprisingly well. So far at least. You hadn’t even realised Jace was here. That was till you felt two strong hands grip your hips, “Not such a goody two shoes now,” Jace’s voice was low, his breath tickling your neck.

You turned around with a drunken grin as you attempted to push him back, but your attempt was futile, “What did you miss me too much?” you joked.

A grin spread across his lips, “You’re drunk?” he asked, his head tilted like a puppy.

“Watcha gonna do about it? tell on me?” you teased as you crossed your arms. Not knowing it gave Jace an even better view of your tits. “I’m just having a little fun,”

He chuckled as his hands returned to your hips, his head dipping slightly in a way that made butterflies spark in your stomach, “Why don’t you show me how to have a little fun then doll?”

Your eyes flickered down, scanning his face for a moment before grinning, “Follow me then,” you said as you lead him to the drinks table.

Several drinks later you awoke in dark blue sheets and a soccer jersey wondering where the hell your dress went and a strong arm around your waist. The low pounding of your head and Jace’s snores brought you back to reality. “Fuck,” you muttered as you tried to ease out of his grip.

Your eyes fell to the floor where your dress had apparently ended up last night. You debated which was worse, walking home in last night’s dress or Jace’s jersey. You quickly decided to steal a pair of his joggies as well and just ball up the dress and take it with you. as you crept out the room you ignored the faint snoring in the background.

Part of you wondered if it had all been a bad dream. That was till your phone buzzed.

Jace

You stole my jersey

You

What you gonna do? Tell on me?

You sighed as you flung your phone to the side and shoved your pillow in your face to scream. Funnily enough what you had been doing only last night as well.

It was the next day when a heavy knock came at the door. when you opened it, eyebrows knitted, you were met with an infuriatingly hot site. Jace’s arm was lent against the door meaning he was able to glare down at you perfectly, “I want my jersey,”

“Sorry do I know you?” you asked, crossing your arms with a tilted glare.

Jace scoffed slightly before grinning, “You seemed to remember my name fine the other night,” this time you scoffed but not before Jace pushed his way in. “Where is it?”

“Get out of my room!” you protested as Jace shut the door behind him and started rummaging. As his hands went to grab your sheets you pulled at his arms to keep him back but not shockingly, he was able to push you off with ease. “Hey!”

“What’s this?” he said, his hand reaching for the jersey that had been under your duvet however your face went red when he lifted it. a wide grin spread across his stupid face, “What’s that princess?”

“Don’t princess me,” you stuttered as he went to grab the pink silicone you’d left on your bed. “Don’t!” you whined as you grabbed his wrist, accidentally ending up face to face with him yet again.

You could feel his hot breath fanning your lips and you saw his eyes dip for a moment as a pit grew in your stomach. Before you could think what to do next his lips had crashed onto yours, his jersey slipping from his grip as his hands moved to cup your face.

Your hands grabbed at his t-shirt, pulling him in closer till you were stood pressed against his hard chest. His hands moved to your back, finding the small of your waist. Jace sat down, bringing you with him to staddle his lap. You gasped when you felt his bulge pressing into your thigh.

His lips moved to your neck, kissing every last bit of skin he could reach. “This is a bad idea- “

“Why don’t you shut up and enjoy it princess?” Jace cut you off, his hands slipping beneath your shirt. “You enjoyed it the other day,”

You groaned as his fingertips explored your skin before finally sighing, “Fine but it’s just sex,” Jace rolled his eyes at you but didn’t bother to respond as he flipped you onto your back, his hands moving to pull off your shirt.

You knew having a enemies with benefits situation ship with Jace would eventually come back to bite you in the ass but the two pink lines staring back at you felt like being plunged into ice water. “You okay Hun?” Sansa called through the door, wondering what had been taking you so long.

You unlocked the door but refused to stand up. Sansa walked in; concern written over her face when her eyes finally spotted the test in your hand. Looking up at her you could only say one thing, “I’m pregnant,”

Part two here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

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