#their football field is ugly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebugism · 1 month

Note

hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t.

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of.

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own.

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface.

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You.

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway.

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer.

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth.

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look.

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

1K notes · View notes

kazvha · 2 months

Note

Hi, I saw your requests were open for the time being. I wanted to ask if you could write some headcanons (or anything really) about isagi, kaiser or noa from blue lock having a crush on gn reader. Like how would they fall for them, deal with their feelings and confess ? Thanks for considering, good day/night.

Summary: Them developing a crush on you

Including: Kaiser, Noa, Isagi

Notes: First time writing for them, sorry if they're ooc. Thanks for requesting!

MICHAEL KAISER

• Kaiser became aware of you for the first time when he bumped into you and didn't even spare you a look. Irritated, you scowled and mentioned how ugly his haircut was

• He only gave you a side glance and went on

• Since then, he began to notice your presence much more on the Bastard München campus

• He saw you when he bought a coffee in the cafeteria, he recognized you standing on the side of the football field while he was warming up; even after his taxing training he noticed you on his way to the dorms

• Kaiser isn't someone who shies away from conversation. When you became the assistant of his physiotherapist he had finally the opportunity to talk with you

• He already forgot about the bumping incident and conversed with you like he did with everybody else, a lot of self-absorbed remarks and snarky comments. And you didn't hesitate to bite back

• He was a bit friendlier with you than with everybody else though because you weren't his opponent on the field

• Eventually you warmed up to each other and the stinginess in your conversations toned down a little. Kaiser found himself looking forward to finding you around campus and agitating you

• He quickly realized that he had formed a crush on you. That's also when every conversation with you took a flirty spin. Kaiser was confident in himself, it would only be a matter of time until you fell for him

• Kaiser addresses you with so many silly pet names like "Süßkartoffel, Schnucki, or Bärchen"* instead of using your name

• He's generally touchy with people, but he became so much more touchy-feely with you after realizing his feelings

• Head resting on your shoulder to look at the document you're reading, hands around your waist just for fun, or even patting your head and messing up your hair :(

• Kaiser tries everything to sweep you off your feet and fluster you. When he's sure that you like him back, he immediately asks you out.

• "You like me right? I caught you staring at me multiple times these last few days," he smiles arrogantly and leans back with his hands behind his head as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. "Good for you that I like you too! Let's go out this weekend."

(* sweet potato, sweetie, little bear)

NOEL NOA

• You were the social media manager of Bastard München and had to talk to Noa multiple times throughout the week since he was the player who got the most likes and views on your posts and videos

• Noa had to do several challenges and Tiktok dances because of you. He thought that most of them were strange, but the rational part of him understood that his cooperation would be good for the team's publicity

• He was so bad at dancing and doing these challenges, you had to teach him every time you shot a new dance video

• Noa was very flustered every time you came up to his side and guided him with your hands on him, but he didn't let it show

• Over time he became used to your ideas and you two grew a little bond. He even developed a little crush on you. The thought of carrying out your ideas wasn't that bad anymore as long as he got to spend time with you

• He tried to reason why he liked you in the first place. Several things came to his mind: His heart beat faster every time you were near him. He had the desire to please you. When he was with you, there was always a slight smile on his lips

• Noa wouldn't say anything and continue like this for a year, to find out if his feelings were fleeting

• He didn't feel the need to be in a romantic relationship right now since his hands were full with football-related things. But if he still decided to pursue one, he wanted to be with the right person

• So when his heart remained unchanged after a year, he tried his luck and asked you out in one of your shootings

• "Let me be frank with you, I caught feelings for you. Could I take you out on a date, if that's okay?"

YOICHI ISAGI

• Isagi fell for you after you interviewed him. You didn't ask him superficial questions like every other reporter, but you understood his plays and asked him about his ambitions

• He was initially stunned by your questions but answered all of them with eagerness in his voice

• He was so giddy when you exchanged your contact info at the end of it

• Also when you texted him, asking him for another interview

• The next one had a more casual vibe to it. You two went out to the park and ate street food while you asked him various questions. You quickly became friends due to his open nature and it almost felt like a date...

• He became a nervous wreck every time before you met up and he asked his mom for advice on how to treat you like a gentleman

• Even when you two texted he probably would delete and rewrite his messages for like five minutes before actually sending them. His friends tease him because of that

• He definitely practiced his whole confession at home in front of the mirror and when the time to confess came, he quickly rattled his whole speech off before he started second-guessing himself

• "Look, I immediately thought there was a connection between us the moment we met. You understand all my plays, but you're not only engrossed in my football journey, you're interested in the real me too! So, yeah it's actually no wonder that I developed a crush on you... Do you think you could accept my feelings?"

608 notes · View notes

froggierboy · 2 years

Text

time for my routine post about how living w my parents in adulthood is unlocking new levels of mental illness

#today's episode is about suburban lawn culture and how i want nothing more than to rip out that ugly ass square of grass #'i put money and hard work into maintaining it' ma'am no one else wants you to do that!!#rye.txt #can someone pls survey middle age suburban parents abt why they want their bit of property to look like a little piece of football field #like i genuinely think there's something at the root of this phenomenon it makes no sense to me

0 notes

mitsies · 6 months

Text

❊ turn me down - michael kaiser . . loving you might just be the unluckiest fate.

there is an ache in kaiser's chest that he can't get rid of.

it's been lingering for far too long to be normal. like a broken wire, sparks fly down his spine, burning from the inside. he's already tried writing it off as bad sleep. he's tried explaining it away as lifestyle, or certain foods, or other irrelevant factors. but no matter what he tries, this dull pain, it persists. it lives inside him; a parasite.

he feels it when the train slows to a stop. he feels it in his history lecture when his professor says something dull. he feels it on the football field when he really, really shouldn't. kaiser can't escape the sensation. it follows him like a shadow, like a bad omen, like a ghost.

and the only solution, he's found, is your touch.

this is discovered on a rain-soaked monday. the both of you had been taking cover in your apartment, and your roommates were all out. it hadn't been awkward, not at all. because before anything else, the both of you were friends. you'd met in a chemistry class a few months back. your friendship was new, and it was easy; it was even easier for him to fall for you.

maybe it had happened that night, when the two of you had shared your first kiss together. when you'd both agreed to be a little more than friends, but not much more. when he'd first touched you the way he wanted to. or maybe he'd fallen for you before that— back in the class, back to your first study session. or maybe it was sometime after. he doesn't know. he may never know. but as it stands, that's where he is; hopelessly, pathetically infatuated with you.

he thinks of it as something like a blessing. the way you talk to him makes him feel tethered and real. the way your hands trace familiar pathways down his back on late nights makes everything feel right. the way you care about him makes his whole body burn enough to forget the stupid ache in his chest.

you've always been hard to read. he can never quite tell what you're thinking, although he itches, burns, to have every single piece of you learned and memorised. is it just for fun to you? or is it more, like it is to him? do you think about him when he's not there like he thinks about you? does his touch make you feel okay for once, too? he hopes so. he needs it to be true, really. because there is something desperate about the way he loves you. like he's grasping at something that's always just out of reach. like you're the only cure for his pain. like you're the only good thing he has, like he can't let you be just a friend.

but that's all you are, really; just friends. nothing less but also nothing more. an unfortunate conundrum. and even more unfortunate is the fact that in his blindness, he'd neglected to account for the fact that friends-with-benefits was no kind of commitment, either.

the bar is muggy and crowded on friday nights, and tonight is no different. kaiser is usually by your side, but he's let himself get pulled away by some of your friend group for a game of pool. but when he's done, and searches for you, you aren't alone. there's a stranger seated in the barstool where he once was, making conversation with you— and you look amused. a hand is propping your head up and your body is tilted towards the stranger, and your eyes crinkle a little around the corner like they do when you find something funny, and kaiser is angry. his body aches, it burns. an ugly feeling melts into his bones, mixing not-too-well with the alcohol already in his system as he moves to where you're sitting.

maybe it's ego. maybe it's envy. or maybe, just maybe it's desperation, as he inserts himself between you and the man with a crooked grin in your direction. "everything okay here, darling?"

you might be hard to read at times, but there's no mistaking the venom that burns behind your eyes as you glare at him. it should hurt. but you're looking at him, so how bad could it be?

you feign a smile and play along, presumably to avoid embarrassment. "yes. yes, actually, more than okay. in fact, i'm ready to go now. mind paying my tab?"

he likes you when you're irritated. he likes you all the time. he'd pay your tab even if you didn't ask. kaiser can feel your anger swell as the man you were speaking to dismisses himself, and as he leads you out of the bar. but he can't be angry. not now, because you take his hand when it's offered. he knows it's to avoid a scene, but he'll pretend it's more than that. your hand in his sends warmth down his body in sparks, enough to make everything else disappear.

"what the hell was that?"

you're mad. he knew you'd be. but he loves you so he just smiles like an idiot.

the street outside the bar is mostly empty. no one is close enough to hear your conversation, and only a few bar hoppers remain, waiting for a cab or stumbling to their next destination. a streetlight shines down on you, turning you amber in its light. you look beautiful. you might've been waiting for him to respond, he's not sure; but when he doesn't, you keep going.

"kaiser, what is your problem?"

something about your saying his name snaps him out of his haze. oh. what was he doing?

"we agreed," you continue, "we're just friends. just friends. we're not anything, kaiser. we're nothing, got that?"

you're mad, you're so mad. and your words burn and sting, like whips on skin, like fire on flesh. he's silent. he doesn't have anything to say, now that the fog has lifted around his brain. you and him were nothing. he loves you like a godless man, but you and him are nothing.

"right," is all kaiser says. he lacks his usual conviction or confidence. he fears that you may be the only person who will ever be capable of reducing him to ashes. you cross your arms and stare at him with a sardonic, "yeah. right."

he loves you. he loves you like a saint, he loves you like you're all he has. and he realises, right there on the sidewalk in front of a dingy bar, that loving you does nothing but hurt.

he never ached the way he does now before he met you. he never burned with emotion too strong to contain. knowing you brought on the pain, and loving you made it worse, and being around you ruined him. this was not a blessing. this was a curse. your touch was not a cure as much as it was a cause.

it hurts to love you. it hurts to love you this much and get nothing back. he knows he shouldn't, now, he's realised that it'll only make things worse. he shouldn't. but he can't let you go, not now. he's addicted to the pain, he's addicted to the melancholy of it all. which is why he smiles. which is why he says, "can i take you home and make up for it, then?"

your face is unreadable, you're sure. and he'd never know how you were feeling at that very moment. because you're hard to read on purpose. because you're not ready for him to know. but that same pain, that same hurt; you feel it too. that same love. unrequited, in your eyes. nothing but trouble. that same love, that makes you smile back. that same love that makes you say, "it's the least you could do," as you take his hand and leave.

maybe one day one of you will have the courage to shut it down or open up. maybe one day, you'll both really end up as either something or nothing. maybe one day, the ache of love's burden will lift. but for now, the pendulum swings as one of you waits for the other to finally put them out of their misery, and turn them down.

flower chosen: yellow rose . . jealousy

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#aka fwb but he's in love with u #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #kaiser michael x reader #blue lock kaiser #kaiser michael #michael kaiser #blue lock #inspired by “turn me down” by julia jacklin!#mitsies 5k #sorry about this MESS i have not written in 5ever and my brain is meltingrn over kaisers recent hairstyle and also finals ig

496 notes · View notes

topguncortez · 8 months

Text

Dead On Your Feet || Whumptober Day 9 - J. Seresin

whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist

synopsis: you were born with the family flaw that left you missing a part and scared

word count: 4.2k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: scar reveal

Warnings: heart transplant, mentions of scars, teasing, unwanted sexual contact, mentions of sexual assault.

You were only a mere hours old the first time you had open heart surgery. They had whisked you away from your mother’s warm embrace, heading straight into the cold, sterile field of the operating room to try and fix a heart defect. It had been successful, but the doctors told your family that it wasn’t the end.

“The family flaw,” Your mother said to you, as she combed through your hair one night. You hated how matted your hair got when you would have hospital stays, “Your granddad had it, I have it, and I passed it to you.” She placed a kiss on your forehead, “You’ll get through this. And live a happy, healthy life.”

And she was right.

You had your first-ever heart transplant at twelve years old. You couldn’t remember much before that surgery. You could remember not being able to go play with your siblings. You could remember your parents crying when talking to the doctors outside of your hospital. You could remember your mom praying and telling God how awful she felt for asking for a heart for you, knowing that it would mean some other child had to die. You also remember asking the doctor if it was going to leave a scar.

“There will be a scar, it’ll go down the center of your chest,” The doctor said, making a straight line from the top of your sternum to about halfway down your chest, “You’ll be able to cover it up.”

The surgery had been successful, you came out of it with flying colors. It was a bit odd to think about at twelve years old, how you had some stranger’s heart beating inside your body. Your parents didn’t like to talk about it, but you wanted to know about the heart you got. Who did it belong to? Were they a boy or a girl? How old were they? Did their parents wish for someone else to die to save them?

You never had any reason to be ashamed of your scar. Sure, it was ugly and jagged and pink. Your doctor had told you that the cuts were all clean and that everything would heal nicely in due time. Your parents told you it was your battle scar, and to wear it with pride. And of course, at twelve years old, you thought it was cool. How many kids your age had battle scars? You loved it when you got to go back to school and bring the surgical photos that the doctor had given you. Everyone thought you were pretty cool when you showed them the top of your scar, the part that peaked out just above your shirt collar.

But then, you grew up. Puberty happened. Girls were suddenly obsessed with their looks and the attention of the guys. Just like many girls, you went through that stage of staring at yourself in the mirror for too long. Spending more time than necessary on your hair and make-up just to go to the pool one hot summer day. But it was the summer before sophomore year of high school, everyone knew it was the summer to make an impression. You had gotten through that awkward first year of high school where everyone was trying to figure out how their new bodies worked, and how to properly use body spray. You had gotten your braces off at the end of the school year and finally knew how to straighten your hair without frying it.

Your friend, Julie called to tell you that the football players were going to be at the pool after practice. You rode your bike to the local pool, meeting your friends and finding the perfect spot where you’d get the most sun and the boys would have to walk right by. You didn’t even think about how your scar would be on display with the two-piece baby blue swimsuit you picked out until you pulled your shirt over your head and heard a squeal.

“Y/N! Your skin!” Julie gasped.

You quickly pulled your shirt down and looked at her confused, “What? Do I have backne?”

“No,” She whispered, “Your scar. . . I thought it would be like. . .I don’t know. . .not like that.”

“Like what?” You asked, your eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“It’s kind of fugly,” Laniey said, with a snort. Laniey was drop-dead gorgeous, with long beautiful legs and tan skin on display. She had hit puberty first and wore it with a badge of honor as she fixed her swimsuit top to make her breasts perk up.

“No, it’s not,” You scoffed, “It’s a battle-”

“No one is gonna wanna make out with the freak who has a dead person’s heart in their chest,” Lainey shrugged, putting her earbuds in her ears. You looked over at Julie, who gave you a sympathetic shrug, before sitting down in her own chair.

You wanted to cry as you sat down next to Julie, your oversized t-shirt still on your body. The football boys passed by, smiling and winking at Julie and Lainey, but they seemed to chuckle and shake their heads when they looked at you. You suddenly felt like you were put back into the box you were in freshman year. The box of band geek with braces, the one who couldn’t run for more than 10 minutes before getting winded. The one who had a heart transplant at age twelve and had an ugly scar running down their chest. You wished that your boobs had grown big enough to cover it up, but you weren’t blessed in that department like your friends.

You had given up being noticed by any of the football guys until one sauntered in. His hair was the perfect shade of gold, the sun making it seem like he had a halo around his head. His skin was perfectly sunkissed, and he looked like he didn’t have a single pound of body fat on him. Julie and Lainey seemed to know who he was as they both sat up a bit in their sunchairs, fussing with their hair and pushing their chests out.

Unlike the other guys, this one paid no attention to Julie and Lainey as he walked by, noticing the empty lounger next to you. You held your breath as he set his towel down on the empty lounger. His body was clad in baby pink swim trunks and a white tank top, barely hiding his ripped abdomen. Oh, how you wish that you could have a flat stomach like that. A scarless body like that.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He asked you, snapping you out of your trance. You hadn’t even realized you were staring at him. Your cheeks instantly flushed at his words as you turned to look back towards the pool. He chuckled as he shucked off his tanktop, and tossed it down on the chair, “I don’t mind, sweetheart. You’re not too bad yourself.”

“Thank you,�� You muttered, playing with your fingers and trying to hide the fact that all the blood in your body had rushed to your cheeks. He winked at you, before turning and running towards the pool, doing a flawless dive into the cold water.

“Jesus Christ, Jake Seresin is fucking hot,” Julie swooned as he broke the surface of the water, the droplets running down his chiseled chest. All you could do was nod your head, sparing a glance in his direction as he met up with his football friends. He had a smile on his face that would make girls weak in their knees.

“Yeah. . . I call dibs,” Lainey smirked. She looked over at you, “Y/N, switch me spots.”

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because,” Lainey rolled her eyes, “He’s the type who doesn’t want damaged goods. Now switch me.” You did so wordlessly, grabbing your things and moving to where Lainey sat, “You’ll thank me later. I’m saving you from embarrassment.”

You never did go back to the pool with Julie and Lainey again after that day. Hell, you hardly even talked to them for the rest of high school after that day. Maybe Lainey did do you a favor, as she ended up dating Jake Seresin off and on for the last three years of high school. Julie ended up with a football player as well. The final straw for you and your friendship with them was when they tried to pair you up with a football player during your senior year of high school. You knew what his end goal was when you had shown up to the party that night.

All you wanted to do was hang out with your friends before senior year pulled you in different directions. You had somehow been roped into playing seven minutes in heaven, Lainey’s idea. You spun the bottle, your heart hoping that it would land on Jake, but it landed on Toby Mitchell, a total sleazebag.

“C-can I skip?” You asked, your hands shaking.

“Nope!” Lainey shook her head, “Rules are rules.”

“C’mon Lainey,” Jake pleaded, “She doesn’t have to.”

Lainey looked at Jake confused, “And who are you to dictate the game? She spun the bottle, it landed on Toby, she has to go fuck him in the closet.”

“I’ll be gentle, baby girl,” Toby winked at you and you felt nauseous.

“Y/N,” Jake called your name softly, catching your attention, “You seriously don’t have-”

“Yes she does,” Lainey demanded, “You can’t go to college a virgin.”

“Shit! Even better!” Toby hollered, clapping his hands together.

Your face was turning red and you wanted to cry as all eyes were on you. But you were only looking at Jake, his green eyes soft and pleading with you to not go into that closet with Toby. Lainey looked between the two of you, the feeling of jealousy growing in her body. She smirked as she climbed into Jake’s lap, straddling him and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. The crowd of drunk teenagers around them cheered as Lainey dry-humped Jake in front of everyone. You felt your heartbreak as Jake’s hands wrapped around her.

You knew having a crush on your friend’s boyfriend was stupid, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Except, maybe one thing.

You willed your eyes away from Lainey and Jake to look at Toby. You stood up and stuffed your hands into your back pockets.

“Let’s go,” You mumbled, nodding your head towards the closet that other couples had gone into during the game. Toby scrambled up from his spot, and grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the closet.

“Get it, Toby!” Someone yelled as Jake broke away from his kiss. He looked over to the closet just in time to see it shut behind you.

“Holy shit, she’s doing it,” Lainey laughed and looked over at Julie, “Pay up, bitch.”

But the seven minutes in heaven didn’t even last seven minutes. You hated the way Toby kissed you, too rough and with too much tongue. He pushed you up against the wall forcefully, making your back throb. He didn’t even ask permission before pushing his hand into your pants. You froze as he touched you, his mouth placing disgusting wet kisses on your neck. You tried to bite back the tears that rimmed your eyes as he pushed a finger into you. His other hand pushed up your shirt, roughly grabbing your breast. You had always imagined your first time, and it was nothing like this. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to imagine that you were anywhere else than here when you felt his fingers touch your scar.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled, pulling away from your neck. He pulled his hand out of your pants, and pulled up your shirt, exposing your scar, “What the fuck?” He said again, “The hell is wrong with you?”

“N-Nothing,” You said, “I had surgery when I was a-”

“You’re the chick with the dead person’s heart!” He laughed, “Fuck, Lainey was right, you are a freak.”

“I am not-”

“It’s okay baby girl, I like my girls a bit freaky,” Toby gave you a disgusting smirk as he leaned back in to try and kiss you. Your fight or flight took over as you rammed your knee in between his legs, “Fuck!” He groaned out, cupping himself as he doubled over. You quickly pushed past him and opened the door. All eyes snapped to you as you stood there, wild hair and your pants undone.

“I-”

“This bitch is a freak!” Toby yelled. The whole house erupted in laughter as everyone pointed fingers at you. Tears clouded your vision, as you quickly made your way out the front door. You didn’t even bother to grab your bike, choosing to walk home instead. The words that Toby and Lainey said filled your mind as you cried the whole way home.

— — —

That night almost a decade ago, never left the deep dark parts of your mind. You still remember the feeling of Toby’s hands on your body and the crude words he spoke to you. That whole interaction was enough to push you away from all forms of intimacy. You were now 27, still a virgin, never had a boyfriend, and your first kiss was still Toby Mitchell from that stupid back-to-school party.

After graduation, you decided to get as far as you possibly could from Texas. Your mother cried as you packed up your car. You were their baby, and they had almost lost you once before. Now, seeing you move out, was worse than watching you in a hospital bed. You promised to call them every other day and come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. You remember watching their figures fade in the distance of your rearview mirror as you hit the road.

The road took you to California, and from there you found North Island. You didn’t know the first thing about living in a military community, but you found a welcoming family in a local bar and its owner. Penny Benjamin all but rescued you from the streets, offering you your first-ever job. She was a bit weary at first, but you proved your worth quickly. In a short amount of time, you became one of her best servers and one of her closest friends. When you weren’t working at the bar, you were babysitting or tutoring Amelia. Penny had helped you move into your first house, and always invited you over for Sunday dinners.

The bar was exceptionally busy on this Friday night. Penny had told you that some new squadron had arrived for a mission. You had come to know quite a bit about the Navy and the Aviators. You could tell an ensign from an admiral just by looking at them.

You were standing with your back to the bar when he came in. His green eyes surveyed the place as he stood in the entryway. Javy had been the one to suggest going to get drinks tonight to celebrate their first night in North Island. His friend clapped him on the back as they made their way to the bar.

“What can I get you?” You heard Penny ask someone as you were restocking glasses.

“Two Budweisars,” The glass in your hand almost slipped out of your grip at the sound of his voice. You turned around and came eye to eye with those beautiful green eyes.

“Jake,” You breathed out.

“Holy shit,” He smiled, “Y/N?” You nodded your head, a small smile crawling on your face, “How long have you been here?” Jake asked, sitting down on a barstool.

“How long have we been out of high school?” You asked with a smile.

“Damn,” Jake flashed you that smile that always made you weak, “Look at you. All grown up and out on your own.”

“I’ve done nothing compared to you Lieutenant Seresin.”

“You flatter me, sweetheart,” Jake winked at you. You couldn’t help the blush that arose on your cheeks.

“Alright, Hangman,” Penny said, coming to graciously save you before you said anything to embarrass yourself, “How about you stop flirting with my best server.”

Jake held his hands up in defense, “I apologize, dear. I’m a sucker for a pretty girl with a pretty smile.”

“Yeah, yeah, shoo,” Penny playfully rolled her eyes and shooed Jake away.

“You wound me,” Jake said as he grabbed his beer and walked back to his friends. You couldn’t help but stare at his perfect ass as he walked away.

Penny looked at you, a knowing smirk on her face as you glanced over your shoulder at her. She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, and you scoffed. You gently whacked her with your bar towel, making the woman laugh as she walked back over to the other side of the bar. You couldn’t help but take a glance to where Jake was at with his friends, and noticed him looking back at you. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile as you went back to looking down at the bartop.

You had never been happier in your life to call the last call. The bar had been packed and busy all night with new crew members flocking to North Island for this new mission. Friday Nights were always your good nights, but this night left you exhausted. You had finished polishing and putting all the glasses away when you heard the bell above the door jingle.

You groaned, “We’re closed!” You yelled.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” You quickly turned around at the sound of that sweet southern voice. Jake stood there, still in his khakis and with a soft smile on his face, “Came to see if maybe I could get one last drink.”

“We’re clos-”

“A drink won’t hurt,” Penny said, walking out of the kitchen, “After the night you had, you deserve one.”

“Okay, let me just,” You reached for your tips envelope but Penny snatched it, “Penny.”

“On the house,” She smiled, “And if you so much as leave money on the bar, I’ll put it right into your paycheck.” You narrowed your eyes at her as she handed you back your envelope, “Have a good night, kids!” She turned quickly on her heel and walked back the way she had appeared.

You let out a shaky breath and turned back towards Jake, “Budweiser?” He nodded and sat down on a barstool. You poured him his beer and made a vodka lemonade for yourself.

It was truly just supposed to be one drink. But then one drink turned into two, and two turned into three, and three turned into you walking with Jake back to your house. Jake watched as you talked animatedly about going on a sailing trip with Penny where she let you steer for the first time. You had never felt anything like it in your life as you felt the cool, crisp breeze from the saltwater on your skin. You imagined if you could fly, that’s what sailing would feel like.

“This is me,” You slurred a bit, as you pointed to the cute white cottage with a purple-painted door. Jake smiled, noticing the small touch that reminded him of his hometown.

“Just like your parents’” Jake nodded, and pushed open the small front gate, inviting himself to walk up the sidewalk towards the house, “It was always my favorite house on my paper route. Your dog, what was his name, the one that everyone always called a mop.”

“Alfred,” You replied.

“Yeah, Alfred,” Jake smiled, “He’d always come down and take the newspaper from me and run it back to the house.”

“Dad taught him how to go fetch beers out of the fridge in the garage,” You laughed, “He was quite the sight.” A palpable silence fell over the two of you, as you fiddled with your thumbs and looked up at your house. You weren’t quite sure what to do. You had never gotten this far before. But before you could even open your mouth to invite Jake in, he answered the question for you.

“I’m gonna get going, I just wanted to make sure you were home-”

“Come in with me?” You blurt out. Instant red filled your cheeks as you looked anywhere but at Jake. You thought your dumb high-school crush had gone away, but here it was back to slap you in the face, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“I’d love to,” Jake answered for you. You smiled at him and held your hand out, which he generously took. You led him up the small walkway to your front door. Your parents would kill you if they knew you left your front door unlocked when you weren’t home, but you grew up in a small town, and habits were hard to break.

“This is it,” You said, looking over your shoulder as you walked into the house, “It’s not a lot but it’s-” You were cut off by Jake’s lips on yours, backing you up against the front door.

You hesitated for a second, your brain trying to figure out if this was actually happening or if this was another one of your dreams. Your hands went to his hair, pulling gently on the soft locks that you had dreamed of. He tasted of beer and the mint gum he had been chewing on the whole walk home. His hands found your waist, one going to cup your backside and the other gently pushing up your shirt. It was when his hand touched your bare stomach, that the dream bubble came crashing down.

“No one is gonna wanna make out with the freak who has a dead person’s heart in their chest,”

“The hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re the chick with the dead person’s heart!”

“This bitch is a freak!”

“Stop,” You said as you felt Jake’s lips on your neck, “Stop. Stop! Stop!” You pushed him off of you frantically, as tears clouded your vision. You pushed off of the door and paced into the living room, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. Jake took a couple of steps back, his eyes flashing with a bit of disappointment and then concern, as he looked you over from head to toe. You righted your shirt and took deep breaths trying to stop your pounding heart.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked, keeping his hands splayed out in front of him, “I’m sorry, I thought that. . .I just that you. . . I thought. . .” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not sure what I thought, but I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” You said softly. You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry that I led you on, that was not my-”

“No, no, no,” Jake shook his head, “Do not apologize for something you didn’t do. I was the one who jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry for making this weird and awkward.” He looked at you for a moment, and then hung his head, “I’m just gonna-” He nodded his head towards the door.

“Wait,” You said, reaching out to him. Your heart was still beating fast as you looked into his eyes. Those same green eyes that had watched you walk into the closet ten years ago. Those same green eyes that always looked into yours when he talked to you, and never at the scar that peeked out of the top of your shirt. Those same green eyes that you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

You let go of Jake’s arm and took a step back from him. Your fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, and you peeled it over your head, leaving you in your bra in the middle of your living room. You let out a shaky breath as Jake’s eyes trailed from yours to the scar in the middle of your chest.

“I know. . .” You swallowed, “It’s ugly.”

Jake took a small step forward, looking at you for permission to get closer. You nodded your head and he took another step, so he was basically chest to chest with you. Ever so slowly, he lifted his hand to the scar, his middle and pointer fingers touching it lightly. You gasped at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“Does it hurt?” He whispered.

You shook your head, “No. It’s just. . . No one has touched me, well except my doctors, but. . . no one has touched me like this.”

Jake nodded again and proceeded with the utmost care as he ran his fingers down the jagged skin.

“When? When did you get this? Jake asked, looking into your eyes.

“I was twelve,” You answered, “My mom calls it the family flaw. Open heart surgery when I was a couple of hours old, and then a transplant at 12. . . I’ve always had this ugly sc-”

“Who said it was ugly?” Jake basically growled.

You gulped, “Everyone. Toby, Lainey-”

Jake scoffed, “They’re wrong. So fucking wrong. This-” He touched your scar again gently, “Is powerful. It shows you’re a fighter. It’s power and beauty.”

You felt tears in your eyes as Jake gently cupped your face. He wiped tears away from your cheeks and placed a soft kiss on where the tears once fell.

“I should’ve told you before,” Jake whispered, running his thumb over the apple of your cheeks, “I wish I was as strong as you to tell you before that you’re beautiful. You’re everything.”

“Jake,” You sighed and melted into his touch, “Take me upstairs.”

You watched as a glint of lust filled Jake’s eyes, as he took your hand and led you to your bedroom.

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17 @cornylovers

432 notes · View notes

dreamermonica · 1 year

Text

BLUE LOCK BOYS + ROMANCE TROPES

—includes isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (sorry if this asshole's part is freakishly longer than the other boys' parts. favoritism exists in this blog, unfortunately.)

—fem pronouns are used, swearing cause it's me, major crack, fluff, messy attempt at humor, teenage pining and such, god help me t.t

ISAGI YOICHI is definitely childhood friend material. sworn friends ever since diapers, promises of being together till the very end, marriage proposals at the tender age of 6—all that type of cheesy stuff that would get you squealing and have your little feet kicking in the air out of giddiness. but as time goes on with him being set on football and you doing your own thing, the promise gradually gets left behind in your heads, slowly getting buried underneath all the pressure of being an adolescent. the once childish promise only resurfaces during an unexpected reunion—with both of you having achieved your dream careers. will your puppy love rise once more from the depths of your memories and perhaps turn into something...more serious? hah. what are you talking about? this old friend of yours should take you out for a proper dinner first, atleast.

BACHIRA MEGURU with the ugly duckling trope. no friends, seen as an outcast, too eccentric for his other classmates to comprehend—and there's you—the popular and extroverted individual loved and befriended by many others. you as the campus crush, who found an interest in the lonely bowl cut boy. though your curiosity is piqued at first, you were quite reluctant in actually befriending him. with rumors of him being a weirdo—most people often shy'd away from the idea of letting him inside their radars. but you aren't going to let that stop you from—wait, he's actually super sweet? and kind too? surprisingly a huge sweetheart? what kind of plot twist is this?! though the monster he speaks of kind of scares you, you're still terribly attracted like a fly to a light by his strong will to become the best striker in the foreign dimension of soccer. in the end he's just doing what he loves, a good-hearted boy who simply got misunderstood for his obsession with football—oh? why is your heart suddenly picking up its pace?

ITOSHI RIN with...*drum rolls*...quiet kid at the back of your class. 😐 not that surprising is it. anyways, this emo kid is obsessed with soccer, yet still able to keep up with his studies just fine. though he's mostly neutral with everybody, you sometimes fear the he might be plotting all your deaths with that unconventional stare of his that looks like he's constantly displeased. but you eventually come to a conclusion that that isn't the case. you both take the same bus home everyday, and you can confidently confirm that he really just looks like that. the stare only softens when he brings out his phone and starts playing granny or something. not to be a creepy stalker or anything—your field of view just always inconveniently contains him and the contents on his phone! he appears to have a knack for the genre of horror. games, movies, even tutorials. (this lil' cheat—) but of course, for this headcannon to work my way imma have to embarrass you in front of him for chemistry and relationship development purposes :p. so once upon a time, where you're tired as hell after some shit going down in school, you fail to remember your usual spot and slump down onto an open seat beside itoshi rin—who was on his phone paying you zero mind whatsoever, playing a horror game that you recognized to be some popular roblox game. you don't know if it's the tiredness that took over you, or the sole fact that seeing rin play so goddamn horrible on the game got on your nerves up to the point you couldn't hold in your thoughts anymore and outright told him what you'd come to regret in just a few moments—“what the hell, dude. you're terrible. you're supposed to get the key and then—” about to reach for the phone out of sheer frustration, you suddenly pause, realizing what you've just done. oh no. your eyes flicker to his expression and holy crap. rin itoshi is giving you the biggest, bombastic, judgemental, dehumanizing side eye you've ever seen in your life. actually, scratch that—he's full on staring at you like you've just directed 57 slurs at him. you feel like you've shrunk into a mere insect with how intense his stare is, mentally slowly melting into a puddle of shame as you stand up and profusely bow while spewing out pitiful apologies. after a few moments, you hear him heave a deep sigh, you slowly crane your neck up to look at him expectantly—only to find him and his absurdly gorgeous face challengingly raising a brow at you, “then what do you suppose i should do, miss i'm-so-good-at-the-game? please continue.” rin roblox kid confirmed.

ITOSHI SAE as the regular who has caught your eye trope. i really wanted to use childhood friends on this guy with the amount of angst it'd produce but isagi already got the trope so...'eye candy regular at the local coffee shop you work part-time at' trope it is. a bit specific but yeah you get what i mean :). it's hard not to notice this man whenever he comes in with that unfortunately charming blank face of his—so charming that in fact some girls from other nearby schools actually gather to seat themselves and wait for his appearance, shoot their shot with the guy and get immediately shut down with just one cold sweep of his indifferent stare. being pretty sure does have its downsides. you can still feel the shivers from when he full-on glared at a girl who was getting a bit too persistent. you've never really interacted with him aside from taking his regular order, but there's still the underlying fear that he'd cuss you out and embarrass you in front of teenage girls should you get his order wrong so now you have a note plastered onto the wall that always has his regular order tip up to the notch—with a highlighted nickname, “duckbutt james” since you never caught his name. but oh fuck, he sees it one uneventful day and raises a brow at you, nonchalantly and coolly saying that his name is “itoshi sae”. god. is this the part where you roll over and die in shame? why did you even think it was a good idea to put the note in point-blank range?! it's the same as basically shoving it in his face! you think you might pass out—but then suddenly—he smiles. he smiles. what. but it immediately disappears as fast as it came so now you're questioning if you're hallucinating or not. he takes his usual order and heads out once more, but as your head clears itself from the multiple stages of grief you experienced in one singular moment—you think of his name in wonder, finding it terribly familiar. itoshi sae. itoshi sae. itoshi...SAE?! WAIT—

MICHAEL KAISER is definitely enemies to lovers material, change my mind. a football hotshot who has to begrudgingly graduate first before officially signing a contract with the famous german world-wide football team—bastard münchen. at this point in life, he's basically already successful, so he literally just ignores and passes up all opportunities to actually study anything that isn't related to football. he's not a troublemaker perse, but you're convinced the entire faculty staff hates him due to the amount of unnecessary work his laziness spews out, but they would still have to pass him regardless of his lax attitude towards his studies due to the sole fact that the entirety of germany has their eyes on this genius of a prodigy. it was relatively obvious that failing him and delaying his awaited pro-debut would do no good for the name of the school, so he's now spared from the chains of corrupted education. despite being in the same class as him, kaiser was someone you've barely talked to—you both only interacted a grand total of two times. one was regarding a class project, and the other was that time you walked in on him getting confessed to for the what, thousandth time? needless to say, you're both barely acquainted, so being friends was out of the question. besides, it's not like you want to befriend him anyway (y/n moment)—you were both complete opposites. you were a study freak, and he was an infamous prodigy who had a passion for kicking a ball—he's the emperor who lived in a completely different world from your mundane life as a mere commoner in his story.

*rubs hands together* now it's time to get even more delusional, folks. it's just supposed to be a normal day but oh nooo, you're now both forced to fully acknowledge each other's presence after a teacher falsely accuses both of you and sends you to detention—highly biased should you add. it's one of those low teachers that act passive aggressively with his early success. it's bound to get people jealous, but shouldn't you be proud as a teacher? whatever. all that you know is that you're now both stuck in detention and you're blaming him now. you know very well you're both completely innocent so for what exactly are you blaming him? absolutely nothing. you're just bored and michael kaiser was your only source of entertainment in this bland and empty classroom. jabs are thrown around from across the room as you are unable to initiate conversation without you throwing an insult everytime he attempts to flirt with you. you asked him to be quiet? babe, he's going to do the exact opposite. you asked him to shut the fuck up? he'll say the typical 'make me'. your sanity is all but squeezed out of your entire being by the time your detention is over, finally being dismissed for the day until he stops you from actually leaving the room by holding your shoulder in place and asks for your number with a playful wink. you want to slap him, maybe kick his shins, roundhouse him in the face and run away but with the knowledge that you'll both still be meeting in your class the next day is a bitter reminder that you should atleast try to remain civil with this young and growing superstar if you want to survive the school year. albeit begrudgingly—you punch down your numbers into his phone (you put a random number in at first but he quickly confirms it to be false when your phone doesn't receive the message he sent just in-case. tsk.) and immediately leave the premises after he cracks a joke about seeing him tomorrow night for dinner.

unbeknownst to you, he was the one who put the anonymous tip in the school's online forum that falsely landed both of you in detention—all just to get some alone time with you and grab your number without attracting too much unnecessary attention because oh my lord he's genuinely interested in someone who isn't a part of his football kingdom?? wowowowowow

sae reawakened my duckbutt (sasuke) phase ong (also reader doesn't know what the world-class midfielder sae looks like, only his name so that's why she was shocked)

#my bllk phase is THRIVING #and it's all because of this fruity german twink named michael jackson #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x you #har❗fiction

2K notes · View notes

prettypinkprincessa · 2 months

Text

THE NIGHT WE MET

(Black coded reader) Frat!boy Rafe x shy!bunny!reader {not proof read so sorry for any mistakes!!}

He watched as you sat alone on the bleachers. Watching the football game that played infront of you. You weren’t one for social activities. Always kept to yourself. Reading your little books and tucking your braids behind your ear. He thought you were weird. I mean you barely had any friends. Didn’t play a sport. Unless you count that lame ass book club you’re in. He was so curious about you. What were you really like? What were your interests? What was your middle name? So many questions he had yet to find the answers to.

“Get your head in the game Cameron!” His coach yelled stopping his thoughts. He had the ball in his hands running toward the touch down. And boom. Everyone went wild and his teammates all surrounded him. “There we go!” Barry yelled. Rafe smiled slightly. Still too focused on you. Watching as you clapped and began to pack your things. “What the hell are you looking at camer- oh.” Barry sighed and looked at Rafe with a deadpanned expression “are you serious. her!? Out of all people?” Rafe looked back at him. A scold on his face. “Don’t act like she’s fucking ugly or something. Because she’s not.” Rafe said. “I never said she was ugly Rafe. She isn’t. But she would be way hotter if she fucking talked.” Rafe scoffed and began to walk off. “I mean you don’t even fucking know her!” Barry yelled. Rafe ignored him. Walking off the field to the locker room. He packed his stuff and changed into his normal clothes as he headed out. It was pretty dark since most of the games started at 6 and ended at 9. meaning most of the people went straight home. So it was pretty empty.

As he was walking to his car he noticed a girl on the ground next to her car. A yellow beetle. He watched as she raised her hands to her head. Sighing loudly but softly. He threw his bags in the car and walked over. “Hey” he yelled. “huh?” you turned around facing him. Eyes watery and cheeks flushed.

oh, it’s her.

“oh, hi.” you say back. voice barely above a whisper. “uh, are you okay?” He sticks his hand out in attempt to help you up but you decline. Grabbing the handle of your car door to stand up instead. “um, my car broke down.” You sighed as tears began to well up in your eyes, avoiding his gaze. He softened at your expression. “I don’t know what to do. My phone is dead and I don’t have a charger.” you whimper, attempting to hold back your sobs. He looked at his watch, 10:46. He smiled and looked back at you. “I could take you home if you want.” Your face expressed a feeling of shock and you finally looked him in the eye. “Really?!” You asked excitedly. “Of course- uh what’s your name? Sorry.” He said nervously. You giggled and looked away shyly. You then looked back up at him and smiled. “I’m y/n, and you?” He smiled and chuckled softly. “I’m Rafe. Anyway, cmon my car is over here.” You followed as he began to walk towards his car. As he reaches his car he opens the door for you. “Hop in doll” you smile and do as he says. He walks over to the drivers side and gets in. “Alright where do you stay?” he asks. “I live up north side in the house next to the shack.” “Really?!” He asks shocked. “Yeah” you respond. “I always wondered who lived there…how come I never see you around.” You sigh and look out of the window. He thinks he fucked up and gets worried. “Well, I don’t really have friends to hang with. So I guess I’m just…always in my room.” You mumble quietly. He starts the car and looks back over to you. “Well, you should come out with me and my friends sometime.” You look back to him and smile. “I would like that, thanks.”

The ride was pretty quiet. The only distinct noice was the wind from the open windows and the quiet song that played on the radio. As he pulled into your driveway he sighed. Not in a bad way but because of the fact that his time with you was over. As you were about to open the door to head out he stops you. “Hey wait!” He grabs your hand and you turn back around. “Yes?” You smile at him lightly. “Um, tomorrow at 6? Me and my friends are hanging out and I’d love for you to come.” You smile yet again. “I would love to come, Thanks for inviting me! Cya!” You hop out of his truck and walk to your door. He stays to make sure you make it in safely. As you shut the door behind you he smiles. “Cya sweetheart.”

#rafe obx #rafe fluff #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #fanfic #outer banks #tumblr fyp #fypツ

223 notes · View notes

lonelierthanu · 2 months

Text

Penmanship

Satoru Gojo x Gender-neutral Reader

series: incomplete

words: 3.4k

warnings: mentions of smoking; funny; meet-ugly; no mentioned female or male anatomy; no curses; college au

summary: you decided you never want to see this man again and fuck the pen altogether. Well, life has other plans.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 …+

Your coffee splashed dramatically against the concrete wall you tossed it at. You’re pissed, to say the least, and the sugarless coffee —that you asked for extra sugar for— was your tipping point.

You were behind some bleachers that laid against the wall outside the dining hall. You’re not sure why these bleachers are here? They seem old and were probably here way before the school was renovated and they put in a huge football field across campus. The school is old so you wouldn’t be surprised if they just left it here. But right now you’re grateful they did because you’re knee deep in a tantrum, if one wants to consider it one, and this is your only sanctuary at the moment.

“Was that necessary?” Aoi asks you, after he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“I thought you said you were going to quit?” Rikki asks from beside him.

“And I thought you said you would never date Tenji,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes another drag and doesn’t bother blowing away from her direction, a courtesy he would have usually given. Rikki scowls at the side of his face.

“We’re not dating.”

“The pictures on his instagram say something different,” Aoi takes another drag.

“I was… drunk…” Rikki crosses her arms as she kicks a rock towards your direction. It lands back in its spot after bouncing off your shoe. It startled her attention towards you, like she suddenly remembered you were there.

You roll your eyes at both of them and lean against the opposite wall from them. Since you’ve known them they’ve had a weird relationship. At least in your eyes. You’ve known them for a little longer than a year and they’ve had an on and off crush on each other since the three of you met. And the two sides have never been on the same page. One person has a crush on the other, then the other gets feelings when the other person loses feelings . It’s a weird dynamic that you wish they’d get over already.

But a part of you wants it to stay this way, so your friendship never changes. But you know that one day this weird game of tug of war will come to an end and it’ll either end in peace, or someone in the mud.

“To answer your question Aoi, yes. That was completely necessary,” You say to break the silence. Rikki jumps at the opportunity to change the subject and cut through the tension. She comes to lean next to you.

“What’s got your panties in a twist anyway?”

“Remember that creepster that thought I was hitting on him for a week?” Rikki tries to hold back her laugh. She fails. You had told her about what happened the next morning after the incident on Saturday. Despite her hangover she found the misunderstanding hilarious. Laughing while saying ‘oh my god, that is so something he would do!’ And you ended up filling Aoi in during one of your class periods you shared with him a couple hours ago.

“Yeah,” she answers, failing to hide her smile.

“Well my professor paired us up for a group project,” you cross your arms.

“At the end of the semester?” Aoi asks as he stomps on his cigarette to put it out, “How does she expect you to get a project done during the week of exams?”

“No, starting next semester is when we start the project. The worst part is, we’ll be working on it ‘till February,” You groaned into your hands, covering your face with them.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Rikki tries to console you by putting a hand on your shoulder. You put your hands down to glare at her.

“Don’t jinx me,” Rikki laughs at you. Aoi smirks, also finding this amusing. “And wipe that smug look off your face,” you point a finger directly in Aoi’s face. He pushes your hand out of the way and rolls his eyes at you, still smug.

You stuff your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to fight off the cold. You’re not looking forward to next semester, to say the least, and when you heard the devastating news of Creepster being your project partner you immediately started thinking of ways to get out of it.

Because since that Saturday you had heard no word of this man until that following Monday. He came in late, like usual, but before he showed up your professor had given the whole spiel about the details of the new project the class would be working on. Everyone picked their own partner but you since there was an odd number of students in the class. Then Creepster walked in.

She told him you’d be his partner and he turned his head to look at you while she vaguely explained the project to him. Your body turned cold when his smirk grew wider. Like he was looking forward to this. The professor dismissed him to his seat saying you could explain in more detail.

When he sat down he faced you, completely ignoring the rest of the professor’s lecture. He leaned his head on his hand, smirk still present on his face. You refused to look at him and continued looking forward.

“Hey partner,” you internally recoiled. He sensed your unease and with the new bout of knowledge that this guy thinks you have some sort of crush on him, or just wanna get in his pants, he probably took your unease for nervousness. The thought alone pissed you off.

He barely got two words out of you in that class, which was yesterday, and today was no better. Though somehow you ended up agreeing to go to his house (his real house) to outline and plan the beginning of the project to finish it faster after the break. It was his idea and it honestly shocked you to hear him suggest a genuine responsible plan. Not gonna lie, you definitely thought the word “ responsible “ didn’t exist within his vocabulary.

You only mildly cared about this idea. You mostly agreed to do so you can finally get that damn pen back before you go on break. You’ll be damned if you go home empty handed when you confidently told your niece you’d bring it back.

“So. What are you gonna do?” Aoi asks, putting his hands into his jacket pockets as well.

“Get my pen back,” you answer, then your phone rings before you can look at his confused expression. It’s your alarm to go to your last class. You leave them to ruminate in their awkward tension.

Creepster told you he’d pick you up after school to take you to his house. You were definitely uncomfortable with the idea of being alone in a car with this man, but you don’t have money for a ride right now, Rikki went to work today, and it beats walking an hour and a half to his place.

You waited at the school's gate for fifteen minutes and was about to text him when you remembered you don't have his number. But before you could stress over that fact, a shiny black Lexus pulled up in front of you. The driver window lowered revealing a strange man at the wheel. He said your name and asked if you were who you were. You didn’t answer at first but then Creepster moved into your line of vision in the passenger seat.

“Get in loser,” he laughed at his own reference, then smiled at you. You rolled your eyes and opened the door to the back seat.

The drive was fairly short, probably a little shorter than ten minutes, and the drive was not silent. But you were glad for that, because if it weren’t for the surprisingly good tunes being blasted through the speakers, you know your awkward uncomfortable air would have permeated through the windows for the other drivers on the road to feel. You’re also glad that you aren’t alone with this guy. That would have been a whole different situation for you.

When you pull up to his house you physically feel the hinges connecting your jaw to your skull unclick. You gawk at the state of his house while you pick your jaw up off the car floor.

His house is fucking huge.

And this is his actual house. You have half a mind to confirm that.

When you head inside you have to put in extra effort to keep your eyes from bulging out of their sockets. It’s just as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside. The difference between this and the frat house is vast.

For starters, it’s furnished way better. Which makes you think he definitely didn’t do it himself. It’s clean, which you weren’t expecting, and it smells nice. Another thing you weren’t expecting but desperately hoping for.

“So, should we get started?” Creepster says from behind you. It startles you how close he is. You jump at least a foot away before turning to him.

“Yeah,” you say, calmer than your heart is beating. He guides you to his dining room where a large circular table resides next to a beautiful huge island with high bar stools tucked into it and a sink in the middle. The dining area is surrounded by windows, letting copious amounts of natural sunlight in. The room is brightly lit without any lights being on. It’s impressive. This is the type of room you’d save in a pinterest board.

He pulls out a chair for you to sit on, but the way he smiles at you after pisses you off so you sit in the chair next to it. He seems amused by this, and chuckles fondly.

“I’m gonna go grab my laptop, I'll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he jokes. You don’t laugh, but he walks away without seeing if you do or not. You see him walk through an alcove in the kitchen and go to the right. Once you know he’s gone you look more thoroughly at your surroundings. You see a set of grandiose stairs in the living room by the entry. And from where you’re seated you can see two halls up there and a third one could exist but it’s too high to tell. You already know you’d get lost trying to walk through here. Your family would have to send a search team to find you.

Your eyes shift over to see grand imposing glass doors that lead to a pool, there could be more land out there but you can’t tell from where you’re sitting. But from how huge the estate is from when you pulled up you already know the backyard is huge. You don’t see any other doors around besides the one in the kitchen, but you just assume that’s a broom closet or a bathroom or something.

Just from looking around you’ve lost a glimmer of hope of finding this pen. It’d be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You’re already preparing the apology to your niece in your head.

“You want a tour?” You whip your head around to see Houdini putting his laptop and bag onto the table and pulling a chair out across from you.

“No,” you answer immediately because the thought of him knowing you’re impressed by his home makes you wanna scratch at your skin. But after a quick second you realize that that could’ve been your chance to find the pen. You curse at yourself. He sits down and opens his laptop. You take yours out from your bag and place it on the table as well.

You want to just open your mouth and ask for the pen again, but a part of you is scared he’ll think you're trying to hit on him again. You agreed to come to his house so that could definitely send the wrong message in this guy’s delusional brain.

“Can I get your notes on the project so far?” He asks without looking up from his laptop. You take your notebook out of your bag and slide it across the table. He shares a doc with you before opening it. So, he really is going to work on this project. A part of you thought this was another ruse to sleep with you. To say you’re relieved is an understatement.

The next half hour goes by with him asking you yes or no questions, finding resources to cite from, quotes, studies, creating the powerpoint and typing in each slide what each should consist of, and starting a rough draft for the essay you’re meant to write. Everything is going pretty smoothly and you’re proud of the progress you’ve made in such a short time. You’re also pleasantly surprised by Herc-Houdini’s work ethic. You’re starting to think he might not be that bad.

And honestly, when you think about the situation, you can kind of see how he misunderstood. It may seem a little absurd to you that asking for a pen correlates to ‘please sleep with me’, but if there are people doing weirder things to get him to sleep with them, then you kind of understand. You’re still not very keen on him though. His reputation and the crowd he’s associated with just puts you off.

Hercules groans loudly as he stretches his arms. The muscles in them tense and show off the gains he’s worked for. A small part of you thinks that he wore that shirt on purpose, but when he’s relaxed he looks as skinny and lanky as always.

I’ll be right back,” he tells you before getting up and heading for that same alcove, going to the left. You vaguely notice him going in a different direction than before and go back to doing your work. You almost jolt with the realization that you could look around and find the pen while he’s gone.

Frankly, this could be a terrible idea. You don’t know what he’s doing so he could be back any moment. You could say you were looking for a bathroom, but then you could’ve just asked when he got back. You’re already up and walking while thinking of the logistics of this plan. It’s stupid, you know, but what if you find the pen? It seems like a great risk to reward ratio to you.

Knowing Sherlock went to the left you check there first once you’ve met the alcove, then dash to the right and go through the first door you see. Unfortunately, you’re met with a bathroom so your excuse has now flown out the window. You could just play dumb.

Before you exit, you listen to the door, then slowly open it to peek outside. Still nothing, so you leave, closing the door behind you before going to the next one. You do this three more times. You were met with two closets and a study, that you did search just in case. When you see the end of the hall you start to feel disappointed, but then you realize there’s a sharp corner. When you turn it, you see a narrow set of stairs.

At this point, you know that you took entirely too long and that Houdini has most likely gone back to the table and realized you were gone. Taking these stairs will make your search even longer and there’s no plausible explanation you could give that’ll justify you snooping around this guy’s house.

You give yourself three seconds to think it over.

Fuck it.

You’re justifying the irrationality of your actions to yourself as you trudge up the stairs, also pretending that the consequences that will undoubtedly follow won’t be that bad. But really? What’s the worst that could happen? He bans you from his home? No biggie. If you find this pen, you don’t plan on coming back anyway.

Or maybe he’ll hate you and think you’re extremely unmannered. Fine by you, then the feeling of dislike will be mutual and he’ll finally leave you alone forever.

Or maybe he’ll lie to his “clique” that you’re a thief and only agreed to do a project with him so you could slither your way into his house and they all make fun of you for the duration of your college career which will then spiral into more awful rumors and you’ll be branded an outcast and be ridiculed so horrendously that not even your friends will want to be around you…

…Or maybe you’re overthinking it entirely and it’ll all be perfectly fine.

As you come to a stop at the top of the stairs you realize that there were three halls up here. You don’t dare check the view below in fear that Sherlock will see you. So, you creep along the wall that you hope isn’t in view from down stairs and bolt for the nearest hallway. Heart beat pumping a million beats per second.

You open the first door, a closet. A second door, a very small bedroom with nothing but a bed and a lonely side table. A third door, a much bigger room with a pretty sweet gaming setup, though it looks unfinished.

The end of the hall, a large room that’s akin to a master bedroom, a bathroom and balcony included. The room isn’t quite messy, but it does appear to be lived in. The bed unmade, a dresser drawer left open, a couple clothing items on the floor near the hamper, and miscellaneous items strewn about in flat surfaces.

A pair of huge, round, dark sunglasses sitting on top of the dresser tell you exactly whose room you’ve stumbled into.

Once you’ve realized, a moment of doubt passes through you. What if he finds you here? But as quickly as it came, it passed. You’ve made it this far unnoticed, what’s one more minute.

A quick glance tells you that the pen isn’t lying about so you begin your search. You only look in places it could possibly be and refrain from his dressers. You check random bags that were in his extraordinarily large walk-in closet. You check in hoodie and pants pockets even. You leave the closet with a fraction less of hope and check under his bed. Still Nothing. You have half a mind to check his dirty clothes but decide to check his bedside drawers before getting that desperate.

It’s when you’re about to wiggle yourself from under Houdini’s bed that you hear it.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to snoop?”

You jolt so hard you hit your head on the bed frame while trying to frantically wiggle free. When you do, you're met with that same smirk. Like he’s amused to find you this way. He walks towards you from the door frame, you unconsciously backup and bump against the side table. He stops right in front of you and bends down slightly to tower over you, his face slightly shrouded in darkness.

“If you wanted a tour you could have just said so,” he drawls deeply, in a quiet tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

“No, I-“ he chuckles.

“You, what? hm?” he takes one of his hands out of his pockets to reveal your pen, “You we’re looking for this?” Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before a glare marks its position on your face. Was he making fun of you?

“Give it to me,” you try to reach for it, but he effortlessly dodges out of the way. He patronizingly waves a finger at you.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he taunts, “I can’t just give it to you now,” irritation bubbles within you.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because. You pranced around my house uninvited and invaded my privacy,” You stand up, refusing to be looked down upon, even though standing up he’s still taller than you.

“So? Then what do you want?” He hums to your question and puts the end of the pen on his chin as he contemplates.

“How much are you willing to do for this pen?” You raise a judgmental eyebrow at him. “Of course nothing drastic,” he adds, “but how far are you willing to go?”

“Well, if i’m willing to stifle through a man’s house like some kind of thief then I guess you can gauge it yourself,” He smiles at that. He lowers his glasses and you see his crystal blue eyes in person for the first time. You’re almost enraptured by them until he opens his mouth.

“Date me.”

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ💚ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ💚ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ💚ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

when i tell you i didn’t know what the fuck to write 💀last chapter i realized that is abt to be a s l o w b u r n and i’m right there along with you guys wondering what’s abt to happen next 😭 hopefully chapter 5 won’t take 4 months this time 🙃

<- prev

#jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo saturo x female reader #gojo saturo x gender neutral reader #gojo saturo x male reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x female reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #saturo gojo x female reader #jjk x chubby reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #saturo gojo x male reader #saturo gojo x gender neutral reader #saturo gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader

61 notes · View notes

blasphemecel · 4 months

Text

Shidou Ryuusei — Taming Demons

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 7.6k TYPE: Humor, Roommates, Romantic frenemies WARNING(S): Threats of violence, canon-typical football derangement, there's a cockroach (and it's not shidou 😰)

It’s on a decent day that Sae meets you and Shidou. The weather is mild without any clouds to obscure the sky, the wind is nothing more than a pleasant breeze, birds are chirping, and most importantly there are no ugly and irrelevant middle-aged men from the JFA to bother him with their whining or otherwise offend his senses.

Too bad he’s on the way to some secret deprivation tank in Ego Jinpachi’s football-themed basement to appreciate any of this.

He’d been ballsier than usual, all things considered, which is an impressive accomplishment since his default setting is audacious. Yeah, saying he wants one striker and then demanding two is a little much even for him, but he’s not going to leave a stray behind. That’d be a waste.

It’s not like Ego didn’t try to warn him, showing him actual footage to review like this was evidence he needed to present in court while making a case.

In the first clip, Rin was calling you lukewarm (there was really no context beyond this), to which you looked at him like you didn’t even know who he was and said, “Peons should only speak to me while looking at my feet, so do that or exercise your right to remain silent,” and it made Rin so incredulous that he actually didn’t respond.

Then Shidou appeared to have found this funny because he came running into view at mach speed laughing his ass off, just to shove the soles of his cleaves in Rin’s face and say, “Lick my feet, Rin-Rin!”

Predictably this turned into some kind of scuffle (to Sae’s bemusement, Rin was losing), and then you joined in because apparently Shidou was ‘copying you,’ and when you accused him of that he became super offended, and at some point the video cut off.

Fine, Sae thought. Whatever.

The second one was ominously titled ‘The_[L/n]_Disaster.wmv,’ and it was cut out from the match this whole saga revolved around. It was normal for a while until you — for no discernible reason — fell down to your knees, pulled an… unsettling expression, screamed like a banshee and said, “I’m so bored! I’m gonna die!” before stealing the ball and shooting it into your own team’s net.

Understandably the field fell into an uproar, and some of your teammates straight up threatened to kill you.

“Who the hell do you think you are???”

You sat down like a petulant child, crossed your arms even. Everyone was too busy holding back their bloodlust so as to not pummel you into the ground and get a hundred red cards to make sense of your behavior.

… Honestly? A little weird, but nothing the Itoshi Sae can’t work with.

And then there was the last video, which was also the lengthiest. Whoever edited it had too much time on their hands. It was like a full-fledged movie with a romantic subplot (between Shidou and the ball or maybe his abstract interpretations of the act of playing football), conflict (the half hour long montage of him fighting everyone, overlayed with shitty dubstep music), and even a climax (in the literary sense).

Also strange, but not enough to put off Sae. After seeing all of this, though, he wondered if Rin managed to make at least one friend, but quickly squashed the thought. Not like he cares.

The final attachment was completely innocuous, an overview of your abilities and progress in Blue Lock, and both of you had unflattering pictures in your files. Ego’s underlying question of Do you know what you’re getting yourself into? still translated.

You’re not lumps of talent or whatever. It’s more like you’re diamonds buried in a deep pit of shit that no one even wants, but at the mental image of himself digging through feces, Sae disregards the metaphor.

If Ego’s idea for an ideal striker is a raging megalomaniac, well. He sure knows how to pick them.

___

Electrocuted like an inmate in a movie running into the fence while trying to break out of jail, muzzled like some kind of idiot dog that doesn’t know not to bite people, strapped down in a fucking straitjacket, what did Shidou ever do to deserve this? Humiliated, and not in the sexy way.

To think of all of these punishments, the most cruel one is still your company.

Just watching you is exhausting him, maybe even more so because he can’t stand up and restrain your annoying ass to make you stop screaming and rolling around and kicking and hitting and whatever (all things he believes are within his right and not yours, since you’re doing them in a way that is so not fun). He swears he’s never been tired before, but right now he has no energy, and he’s not even doing anything. You have to be some special new species of leech.

That’d be kinda hot now that he thinks about it, if you’d like… attach to him and suck out his blood. But for now he needs to stay focused.

Prior to your freak-out — he’s not even sure what you’re mad about — you had to write ‘I won’t score in my own goal next time’ all over the walls because apparently ‘if you act like a child, you’ll get treated like one,’ but you gave up not even half-way through and broke the marker after declaring you’re going to kill Ego.

“I think you need to be in a straitjacket, not me,” he says with a sly grin as if this whole situation is amusing. He does share your killing Ego sentiments, though, but you’re easy to tease. Despite his fatigue from the predicament, he is still dedicated to being an irritating piece of shit.

“I wish I was!” you say.

What?

You drag your hands down your face, stretching the skin. “I’m going to gouge my eyes out!” Then there’s some more facial expressions of mental anguish before you perk up after his words properly register in your head. “Oh, you’re so worthless and perverse, but this is actually a great idea. We should switch,” you say pleasantly.

“Worthless? C’mon, didn’t you watch while I was playing?”

You undo the muzzle so he’s the slightest bit grateful to you until you say, “Meh.”

You’re being disingenuous here and one of Shidou’s principles is real recognizes real, so even this is enough to piss him off, but then again there was also the other questionable and embarrassing thing you did. “If football’s a source of life, then you’re like a miscarriage. Or an abortion.”

“What! Why?”

Wow, you are such an infuriating and confusing hypocrite. He needs to take you out on a date some time. “‘Cause the only one who should get to shoot in your goal is… me.”

Your eye twitches, face scrunching to the left like a black hole is sucking in all of your features. He looks so happy with himself that you want him to die. “Shidou Ryuusei-”

“Not the full government name!” he cries out with fake dismay.

“-if you say something like this to me again, I’m gonna dismember you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There is a shit-eating grin of a man who knows exactly what you’re talking about on his face. A slight blush, even, but it points towards elation, not embarrassment. “And there’s nothing in here you can do that with.”

“The room has walls.”

“Don’t saaaay things like that,” he sings. “Not when I’m all tied up like a lunatic.”

What does he mean by this?

You’re not even making progress with unhooking the straitjacket since there isn’t much wiggle room between Shidou’s back and the weird stand thing, but Ego shocks you through the bodysuit to dissuade you from any further attempts. This time, when you slip on the floor, it’s not your fault. After a few pitiful twitches, you say, “That’s it. I’m gonna die.”

???

“I was beautiful.” You pose while still on the floor. “Please make up some cool last words for me. For my tombstone.”

“You went from killing Four Eyes to killing me to then killing yourself. Amazing range,” says Shidou with a whistle, once again acting like the situation is funny.

He watches you try to break your neck by forcing it in unnatural positions using your hands for a bit until the effort proves to be anatomically impossible. Long hours lie ahead of him.

___

Sae has been eavesdropping in front of the door for at least twenty minutes to assess the situation before walking in. There’d been blood-curdling screams, heavy sounds of thrashing (apparently you were trying to run up to the ceiling and kept falling down and throwing tantrums, which Shidou, again, found hilarious, but all it gave Sae was a migraine from having to listen to the commotion), and five arguments that never concluded because you two couldn’t stay on topic. Many expletives and creative death threats flew through the air.

It occurs to him for the first time that trying to control the two most selfish strikers on the roster is ambitious. You both operate on an incomprehensible level of egotism, with you acting like your teammates are unimpressive circus acts and Shidou’s tendency to play as if he’s a sole soldier on a mission to bludgeon everyone else on the field. Small fry who don’t take gambles like this here and there, though, aren’t worth anything.

“I love watchin’ people squirm and all, but not like this. Can you do something more exciting?”

“What’s gonna be exciting is the sight of your nail beds while I rip them off one by one.”

The sound of an exaggerated yawn. “Your fake threats aren’t stirring me at all. Look at me, I’m so bored. So bored and pathetic and restrained and please, I need a more refreshing view.”

There’s one last, grander thud. “I’m done,” you declare.

… Nothing, for a bit.

“You look so cute and harmless like this. Makes me wanna squeeze your neck till your eyes pop out.”

You don’t dignify that comment with a response.

___

This latest development is detrimental to your relationship with Itoshi Sae. Not that you have any kind of relationship with him besides striking up the U-20 deal, but you’ve been dating him in your head ever since you saw him play on TV a few years ago. You’re contemplating mentally breaking up with him for good. That’s how serious of an offense you’re dealing with.

It’s like you don’t even know me, Sae, you cry, though you don’t commit to speaking it out loud. He’s not even here to hear your bitchfest, anyway, so you settle for throwing your minimalistic bag of belongings on one of the beds with as much hate as possible.

Shidou waves at you from the other side of the room like you didn’t arrive at this complex in the same car, and like you didn’t spend eight hours in the punishment room together. Your scowl is really, really ugly, wrinkling your skin. Seriously, sharing an apartment is one thing, but the same room? The same toilet? There is no one you tolerate enough in the world for this bullshit.

After sorting through your belongings and doing a good job at ignoring whatever Shidou is saying, you step out and head towards the kitchen and rummage through the fridge and the pantry. It’s a little strange that you’re no longer in Blue Lock for the time being. You can go eat at a restaurant if you want to, but you find that Sae’s team has been gracious enough to leave some supplies to last a couple of days.

Shidou trails after you like an unwanted shadow. You examine everything one last time before grabbing a protein bar and taking a seat at the table, leaving you with the view of Shidou grabbing whatever he can before he dumps it all on the counter and opens the blender. You frown in confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking,” he says in a tone which suggests he finds you stupid for not understanding that at first glance.

“You can’t put raw meat in the fucking blender.”

“Yeah, I can.” He rips two packages with different spices and dumps them in. “Look, there’s even seasoning.” And then he shoves in a cucumber and an unpeeled banana.

You lunge towards him, cradling the blender, your snack forgotten. “You’re gonna get food poisoning, moron.”

“Then how come I’ve never had it before???” Shidou tries to take a hold of it again, wrenching it out of your hands before a game of tug-of-war ensues.

There is no way he’s serious. This must be some elaborate way for him to troll you. Your struggle for the blender, however, is more intense than anyone would’ve anticipated because your palms turn sweaty, with the blender slipping out once you attempt a harder yank. Shidou almost manages to save it from its imminent fate with a swipe, but his reaction is not fast enough and it shatters on the floor.

“Look at what you did.” You gesture.

“You got in the way of my cooking! It’s your fault.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Were you raised in a cave? A mountain? I will destroy you if I see you ‘cooking’ in my presence again.”

He rolls his eyes and mimes a blabbering mouth with his hand as if to say yap, yap, yap. You resist the urge to reach out and break at least one of his fingers.

With a huff, you stomp your way to the bathroom in search of a broom and dustpan to get rid of the glass shards, the rest of Shidou’s arguments about why a steak shake is ‘gourmet’ and ‘exotic’ falling on deaf ears. You’re also trying to think of a good place to throw away the pieces because you’re so not telling Itoshi Sae you broke his rent-a-blender.

You return to the sight of Shidou finishing up your abandoned protein bar while trying to pick up glass shards between his toes.

“Stop that. What if you hurt yourself?! Seriously, what’s your deal?” You narrow your eyes at him while he blows a raspberry at you and the realization of his thievery hits you. “Hey, spit that out.”

Shidou smiles and throws the shard — yeah, with his toes — at your shins, but you ignore the action, your pre-existing rage rendering you unresponsive. “So demanding.” He waves your protein bar, or at least what’s left of it, in the air. “Come and take it if you want it so bad.”

“I’m not playing tag like a child when the floor’s covered in glass,” you say, despite already taking a step forward, ready to assume a stance and chase him.

You do, of course, end up playing tag like a child when the floor’s covered in glass. Your protein bar falls in the toilet. When Shidou reaches to flush it, you push him out of the way, and he pushes back, and so begins a brawl, any other concerns fading in the background.

Two hours later, you shriek out a piercing scream when you take a piss and flush without thinking.

___

You wake up to weird yelling. This is atypical since you’re usually the one who causes commotion. You laze around in bed, taking it as noise from your dream, until your consciousness clears and during your first moment being awake, you swear to make whoever’s responsible for this regret it. Through bleary eyes, you observe the room, and find the bed opposite of yours empty.

You slog your way out to brush your teeth, but the racket grows louder, and you identify the source as the balcony. Without thinking, you head there to scold Shidou, abandoning your previous task.

“Cytolysis!” What the hell is he even on about? “Ooh, and arteries!” Seriously.

“Douchebag, you woke me up. Stop screaming so early or I’ll- Why are you naked?!”

“You were really talking for that long before you noticed…?”

“Cover up,” you say, disregarding his indirect call out of how much you love your own voice, to the point you stop noticing your surroundings once you get going in a spiel. “What if you get arrested for public indecency? It could ruin your life.”

“I can’t sunbathe if I’m wearing clothes,” Shidou says.

“You literally can.”

“Yeah, if I want an uneven tan.” He rolls his eyes as if you’re being unreasonable for expecting him not to randomly be in the nude. You really don’t know how maintaining a tan is more urgent than avoiding the charge you brought up, but you don’t bother questioning him any further. “Listen, you’re not ruining this for me. I haven’t been able to do my morning routine for weeks!”

“What, so you couldn’t do it in front of the others, but you can do it in front of me? I’m way too dignified for… the sight of you. Right now and in general.”

“Snobby-chan, you can’t be for real. There wasn't any sun there.”

“You really are shameless, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, looking at his nails in disinterest. “Shame is just a shackle that gets in the way of my freedom.”

Your eye twitches, and your scowling is causing some tightness in your face, primarily in your forehead. Don’t try to make it philosophical now!

“Ugh,” you say, figuring you’re way too speechless to offer anything more constructive. “Step foot in front of me like this when you’re done and I’m going to boil you in a cauldron, you hear?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Prude-chan. Just don’t interrupt me again.”

“Call me by a nickname again and I’ll peel you with the peeler from the kitchen.”

Instead of replying, he sends you a kiss and a wink.

After some incredulous and judgmental staring, you slam the door shut, not putting much thought into the force of it. It rattles and the frame separates from the jamb, leaving it crooked and awkward. You fall to your knees on the floor and start crying — like, really bawling and torturing your throat with your wails of turmoil — and trying to shred your scalp with your nails. Shidou spares a moment from the bullshit he calls his ‘morning routine’ to laugh.

___

You emerge from your nap looking like you’ve been through the seventh circle of hell in Dante’s Inferno. It was to compensate for your early wake up. Now you stand in front of the mirror, finally brushing your teeth.

Shidou waltzes in not much later, at least wearing a shirt and shorts. He shoves you aside with the unceremonious command, “Move,” before leaning over the sink and pulling out eyeliner, trying to get in a good position.

You forget to yell at him, since you become fascinated by him when you see him put it close to his face with a look of concentration. Is he going to stab his eye out? This is so exciting.

… Shidou starts applying it over his lower lashline. You frown at the anticlimactic follow up. It’s pretty bizarre to be living with him like this, though.

Making your way around, you spit out the foam then rinse before moving on with the rest of your business. He slathers his hands in too much hair gel before beginning to work on shaping it into the ridiculous style he usually wears it in. This seems like an excruciatingly long and wasteful process.

You ask, “So you do this every day?”

“I thought ‘cause of earlier that you don’t know what a morning routine is, but are you really just gonna confirm it like that? You’re too easy.”

You almost make the mature decision to leave and do something else (maybe read a wikiHow article about how to fix doors), but Shidou proves to be too tempting of a target when he stands there, scrutinizing you with an almost feline expression as you pass by him. Twisting one of the loose strands on his head around your finger, you pull him down to eye-level, and he lets you, looking amused. “I’m gonna grab you by your stupid antennae and throw you out of the window.”

Instead of answering, Shidou backs away and flicks the one you weren’t holding. You tilt your head in confusion, not understanding what he’s doing. “My receptors are sensing bullshit.”

You scratch your chin in fake contemplation. “You know, you act kinda weird and you have this wild look going on… but deep down you’re just a lame biology nerd.”

“Me, weird?! I’m not taking that from you,” he says in mock offense.

“What?” you ask, in astonishment at his nerve to bring you up. “There’s nothing weird about me.”

Your genuine confusion is making Shidou assume you live in a parallel universe.

___

It would’ve been your third day of surviving on protein bars — Shidou keeps referring to this as ‘your fault’ because you ‘broke the blender’ (objectively it was a collaborative effort, from your perspective he is to blame) as if the blender is a cooking utensil — so you’re heading to some cheap place to eat.

“I can’t believe they’re benching us,” you say through grit teeth. The complaint serves as a distraction from your grumbling stomach.

“But the fight was pretty fun,” Shidou adds optimistically, looking extra cheerful.

Just the thought of it is making you want to shrivel up and die, but then again, there are many things which make you feel this way. “That was so embarrassing. I hope Sae didn’t see… If he did, I’ll commit seppuku during practice tomorrow.” The last statement is a promise you make with solemn seriousness.

He most definitely saw since you had a loud meltdown before you joined Shidou in attacking everyone, but instead of bringing this to your attention, he says, “Is that guy a big deal or something? You like him a lot.”

His accusation isn’t presumptuous in the slightest. The one time he got an accidental glance of your lock screen, the picture was a close-up of Itoshi Sae’s unimpressed face with a conspicuous placement of the gettyimages trademark covering a fourth of his forehead.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow. Shidou expects you to freak out again and scream in denial, but all you ask is, “Don’t you know who he is?”

He shrugs.

“He’s a genius! And really handsome, too. I love watching him play,” you swoon, caressing your cheeks. “He’s like a prince. A football prince… The best kind of prince.”

“I’ll see what he’s about during the game,” says Shidou with a grin as if he’s the professional player renowned for his skills all over the world, and Sae is some random guy. But you don’t think he’s trying to be arrogant. There’s this inane kind of excitement about him, like he hopes what you said is true because he wants to experience it.

“Hey, Shidou. What was your life like before Blue Lock?”

You can’t help being curious. Are his parents negligent or something? No sane adults would let their kid develop the habit of screaming random shit while naked every morning. You hate to admit it, but you’re concerned about him.

“No use thinkin’ about boring stuff like that.”

Makes sense he’d be a live in the moment type of person. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess dwelling on the past is pretty peasant-like.”

You smile at each other in agreement, though you’re on the same page for reasons so different, someone might wonder how you’re even managing a civil conversation.

___

“What’re you doing?” Shidou asks, resting his foot on the corner of the coffee table with his phone in hand, scrolling.

On the other end of the couch, you’re slouching and balancing a few cards from the deck you stumbled on while looking for tools to fix the door with. You’ve learned an important lesson: chisels and pry bars don’t just lie around rented apartments, waiting for someone to use them.

“I’m turning over a new leaf, so I’ve decided to rediscover patience and peace,” you say with a close-eyed smile.

The load of bullshit you uttered fuels some curiosity in Shidou, so he peeks at you over his phone case. This fake ass smile doesn’t suit you at all. You look like you don’t have a soul.

He slides closer to you inch by inch, moving his leg with himself, until he is close enough for you to see what he’s doing in your peripheral vision. Not about to let him ruin your hard work, you swat away his foot with the back of your hand, but the quick movement upsets the three pyramids and the card on top of them, sending them all toppling down.

Shidou cheers when you flip the table.

___

You’re lazing around on your bed when Shidou struts up to you with a triumphant aura. “Y’know that little problem we had? I solved it,” he announces.

You perk up, eyes shining. “You’re gonna stop screaming every morning?” You don’t even care about him being naked anymore. His ritual interrupts your sleep so often that it’s affecting your mood tracker, always starting the day off with an angry swearing red emoji.

“No, I meant the sink.”

True. You avoid making eye contact with it since it’s overflowing. In a technical sense, you know how to wash them, so it’s not incompetence that’s driving you to allow this to go on. But it’d be an act of subservience since Shidou also throws his dirty dishes in there, and you’re not going to do his chores. You will make him understand who’s the bigwig here, even if you have to eat without a plate by the end of this lesson you’re teaching him.

He continues, “You’re pretending you don’t like waking up to my angelic voice now?” Then clears his throat, not leaving you any time to reassure him you’re not faking your distaste for his idiocy.

You interrupt him and cut off the fifth tone deaf ‘la.’ “So, you finally washed them?”

“What?” Shidou asks, raising his eyebrows like your assumption is nonsensical. “I threw them off the balcony. Now there aren’t any more of ‘em to get dirty.”

He looks so proud of himself — while also clearly realizing you’re on the brink of a breakdown, if his manic grin is anything to go by — and you want to puke. Theatrically, you roll off and fall, hoping to hit your head and get a life-threatening concussion, but for better or for worse, nothing of the sort happens.

You can imagine him aiming at people with forks from above.

When you remain still for a while, Shidou nudges you like one might do to fresh roadkill with a long stick from a safe distance. “You there? Are you hibernating or something? Blink twice if you died.”

___

Your recovery lasts several hours, during which you do nothing but lie on the floor.

Once out of your stupor, you head to the kitchen to mourn your loss (not of the dishes, but for your inability to get Shidou to do them), perhaps to gaze out of the window with a wistful sadness in your eyes. It takes you a few morose steps to realize they’re there, intact. Clean. You blink.

You can be so stupid sometimes.

___

A cockroach crawls out from behind the mirror. You back away, startled by the sudden movement, not realizing what it is you’re seeing at first glance. The real horror starts when you recognize the creature in front of you and shriek in alarm. When it doesn’t produce the desired result, you cave in and yell, “Shidou!”

“D’you want toilet paper?” he asks, his tone way too casual in comparison to yours. You could be dying in here, kidnapped and tortured by the Cockroach King, and you’re convinced Shidou would not give a shit.

“No! Just come in.”

He does. With a roll under his armpit. And then he does nothing to help.

You point at the wall, your index finger accusatory. It hasn’t moved to hide yet, so at least you don’t have to be paranoid about its whereabouts.

“You just strike me as the type of person who’d tell someone to wipe your ass,” he says irrelevantly.

“Kill it!!!” You’re glossing over his apparent willingness to do just that. But your anger dissolves into panic when your imagination comes up with all sorts of alternatives that have you clutching your scalp. It could give birth. Maybe you’d have to be the godparents, babysitting every Saturday.

“Pretentious-chan is not so big and bad anymore.” Shidou pouts, as if disappointed, then grabs it with his bare hand and examines it, making a big deal out of doing so, squinting his eye while widening the other. The insect is squirming in his hold.

“Bro, get rid of it! What if it escapes?!”

He takes a step forward, beaming at you, which you read as a warning sign preceding sinister intentions. Though you want to back away, you’re already standing by the sink, the front digging deeper into your skin. You think to reach out and push him away, but it puts you at risk of coming in contact with it if he lets it loose on accident… or on purpose.

Very slowly, he brings it closer and closer to your face. Your chin is retracting into your neck while you lean back to the best of your ability, and it’s straining your muscles, making you clench your teeth out of both fear and disgust.

“The others call me a cockroach,” Shidou says. “Are we twinning?”

“Stop.”

“C’mon, do we look alike?” He has the audacity to smile, looking all innocent.

One of the antennas almost brushes against your nose. Your brows pinch together, and you’re reaching levels of facial tension you haven’t experienced before, which is impressive considering how many mood swings you flip through on a daily basis.

“Dude, get it away from me,” you beg, borderline crying.

It seems to click in Shidou’s head that this is more serious than your usual tantrums, and he hates to think he’s made you upset on a substantial level, scrambling to crush the roach and flush it away.

You relax from your ‘afraid turtle’ position, straightening your posture to glare at him. Shidou looks at you like a kicked puppy. Even though he knows you don’t have mercy for excuses — valid or invalid — he takes a crack at the worst one. “It was a joke.”

If looks could kill.

“I’m sorry.”

His mumbling is quite pathetic and therefore almost unable to reach your ears (this phrase isn’t really a part of his vocabulary, so it comes out like a foreign tongue twister), but after you make sense of what he said, your lips settle into a phony smile.

“I think it’s unfair the others call you an insect,” you say. “I mean, they’re animals, but you make the conscious decision to be a piece of shit.”

“I’m sooooorry,” he says, this time with more confidence, and tries to catch you in a hug. As if.

“Wash your hands, freak.”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot about touching it already. Oops!”

You massage the bridge of your nose. He’s hopeless.

___

This noon, Shidou is preparing you a salad. You guess it’s a bit lacking, but you only have the tomatoes and the cucumbers and a block of cheese left. You’ve mostly been ignoring him since yesterday and he took matters into his own hands when he realized you were willing to starve over this. The protein bars ran out too, which is a shame since you love throwing them in as a side dish to your cooking.

Shidou liked the spaghetti. There wasn’t any sauce, so he suggested you grate protein bars over it, and you almost vomited after you tasted it. But at least one of you was happy.

You glance at him, mulling over whether you should continue being mad or not. Your wrath doesn’t seem effective on him, so you might need to switch strategies. Though you abandon the train of thought once you see how he’s gripping the knife like a toddler, cutting the vegetables and humming some annoying tune, so you rise from your seat and approach him. “You’re gonna hack your fingers off.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll show you.” You make a ‘gimme that’ gesture and hope it translates well enough.

Instead of passing it over, a gleeful expression takes over his face, and the sight of it disturbs you, since this is how you know he’s about to do something stupid. Your hunch proves correct when Shidou wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you in the air, looking up at you like you hung the moon or some shit, full of wonder. Usually, you’d appreciate people showing you due respect, but you have other concerns right now.

“The knife’s still in your hands, you fucking idiot,” you screech, squeezing his shoulder in alarm. What if he stabs you in the back, on some Julius Caesar shit?

“You’re so mean, but you still worry about me the most out of everyone,” he says, all but shoving his head against your neck, his nose poking your collarbone.

“RELEASE ME.”

You fall on your ass when he does. Shidou’s smile does not slip at the sound of you grunting in pain.

“You’re dangerous,” you say.

“For your heart, I’m assuming.”

“Yeah. I have high blood pressure, so.”

“Oh,” he says.

You pat yourself to brush off imaginary dust and make a big stink out of it, with downturned lips and aggressive motions. Then you ask, “Were you for real?”

“I’m pretty straight-forward,” he tells you as if it suffices.

Again, you hate to admit it, but you feel bad for him, if he perceives you as the one who cares about him the most. After all, you’re not all that kind to him.

___

“Are you awake?” Shidou asks the night before the match.

“No,” you say, continuing to scroll through your phone.

“Ok, listen. Do we share equal power in the relationship?”

“What?”

“Do we: A. work as a team or D. you get angry when I try to make decisions without you???”

“First of all,” you frown, “what the hell are you talking about? Second of all, why are you going from option A straight to option D?! It’s upsetting my balance.”

“I’m trying to see if you’re toxic, so I’m taking this relationship quiz,” he says before pressing something.

There might be some sensitive sort of nerve in your temple which is jumping out right now. “I’m not your lover.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shidou agrees while continuing to do whatever he is doing, not even bothering to conceal it. “I just wanna see.” Then, after more tapping, he lets out a performative gasp. “The quiz is saying you’re a red flag!”

“Shut up.” You throw your pillow at him, though they don’t spend much time together since he flings it back almost immediately. “You are, too.”

“Is it meant to be…?”

“Good night.”

“I thought you were already sleeping,” he lies with a facetious smile on his face. “Red flag, red flag!”

___

Shidou almost breaks out into a sprint, but you pull him back with a handful of his jersey, almost tripping him. “Let’s make a more nonchalant entrance,” you say, even if you don’t need to go out together.

“Huh, why? I wanna go out and play already,” he says, seemingly annoyed, though he does slow down to match your pace, shoving his hands in the sides of his pants from the lack of pockets.

You ignore the action and reply, “Well, I belong on the field and it’s natural I’ll be showing up, so there’s no reason to be too excited about it.”

“What a load of bullshit,” Shidou says, amused. “Are you any good when you’re shooting in the opponent’s net?”

“Guess you need to give me a good show. Otherwise, I start misbehaving when I’m bored.”

“You don’t need to worry about that at all!” Shidou swings an arm around your shoulder with a grin which seems a bit too elated. “Just keep your eyes on me and I’ll get you all excited.”

You’re about to retort with something about how you really doubt it, but grow preoccupied with blowing a kiss at the audience who doesn’t even know who you are. In this moment, Shidou realizes you’re some momentous kind of knobhead. It’s rare he’s the voice of reason, but you’ve given him a few opportunities to act as such the last few weeks.

___

Though Shidou already scored once, you’ve been stuck on defense the whole time, or getting marked by that pesky guy Isagi. You grit your teeth. He’s trying to piss you the fuck off and you know it. He wants you to lose your marbles so you become a liability.

If you have to be honest, you always think of everyone else on the field as an obstacle, even your teammates. You cannot name a point in time when this hasn’t been the case. In high school, you had the best scoring ability on your team, but messed up a lot and couldn’t synergize with the rest of them, and you’d get benched more often than not. And it always drove you crazy how your replacement couldn’t play to save his life, but somehow he was preferable.

Hell, you don’t even like playing most times. Your skin is always itching, giving you this familiar feeling that you’re about to burst into a pile of angry, gory entrails. Everyone else always calls these episodes tantrums or… or other synonymous words, you’re not good with words, but to you, it really feels like Armageddon when you get upset.

You mostly had fun practicing by yourself, kicking the ball on and on, running down the river for hours. It was liberating in a way, with no incompetent midfielder to tell you where you can and can’t shoot from, or missing the spot you’re trying to go for because your plans don’t match, or everyone telling you that you don’t fit in, or any people at all. It’s one big pain in the ass, playing football, but you’re so obsessed with it.

Shidou’s second goal snaps you out of this mulling you were doing. You blink in begrudging amazement. It’s like he took flight, or ascended, or something else dramatic of that nature.

The desire to score and steal the attention from him overwhelms you.

You don’t have to be the one who’s dancing out of sync anymore, if everyone’s going in your tempo. If Itoshi Sae doesn’t mind passing to these bad, bad spots you love so much, you can move freely just like Shidou.

When the ball goes back in play, you stay back and observe for a moment, before diagonally sprinting across the field.

“Hi,” you greet Sendou, before swiping it away from him and kicking it overhead all the way back to your side’s penalty area.

He stares at you in a mix of incredulity and irritation. “We’re on the same team!”

“Aces who can’t score don’t get to question me, okay?”

“You-”

But you’re already running again, continuing the zigzag pattern.

Aiku — who miraculously secures the ball and passes to Sae after your movements put everyone else on the field in disarray — hollers in half amusement, “Where the hell do you think you’re shooting?”

All this stupid fucking noise. ‘Winning’ and ‘losing,’ ‘heroes’ and ‘villains,’ ‘sensible’ and ‘irrational,’ everyone else always lets these plebeian concepts constrain them. Is it such a crime you don’t want to let anyone chain you down?

Sae passes the ball with you back and forth while you cut across the pitch, closing in, confusing and slipping past the defenders with your flitting and nonsensical dribbling. Karasu tries to intercept you, so you kick the ball to Shidou on the opposite wing with Reo breathing down his neck.

He has no choice, but to kick it a few paces ahead of you, where you arrive after shaking off Karasu by jumping around him during the shoulder-to-shoulder tackle.

“Ya move like a dumbass.”

“It’s really not fair when I have to give it back to you,” Shidou joins in on the yelling. By the expression he’s making, you can’t tell if he’s angry or excited. “Tease!”

You’re approaching the goal line, with Blue Lock’s side focusing on blocking you and limiting Sae’s courses. Oh, you can tell he’s gonna give you a really nasty one, so you can’t help but pass it back to him, hoping he can assist you in brute forcing your way through the rabble. Everyone is more or less floundering all the way to the left, drawn to your madness.

It’s kind of sadistic when he has you scrambling for the ball right in the middle of all this mess — unidentified limbs and bodies reaching for it at the same time. You jump and mime a kicking motion before trapping it, lobbing it over your head, then twisting your body in mid-air, viciously striking it into the net with your nondominant foot, right through the clear path where no one is guarding.

“A crazy feint in mid-air?! Against all logic, U-20’s [L/n] [Y/n] secures the goal!”

You land on your back with your legs shooting up in the air. You see Isagi hovering near Shidou, who was wide open. He must’ve been predicting you to give it up. He was reacting to you?

The audience is screaming my name… But right now, I’m just kind of happy to be playing with everyone.

Huh. It’s kind of like you’re practicing by the river again.

___

Sae knows you don’t need much provocation to blow a fuse.

What he doesn’t expect is for you to also be very easy to please.

He also feels like a really big, smelly, juicy slab of meat with two hyenas breathing down his neck, what with Shidou jumping on his back and babbling about something and you taking his hands in yours before kneeling and proclaiming, “Please marry me.”

What the hell?

He wretches his fingers out of your hold, leaving you in the same position since you’re apparently too delusional to stop, huge smile on your face and all despite the rejection. Then he throws Shidou to the ground.

The phone number would cost three points. Sae isn’t sure how much matrimony is worth.

Shidou averts his interest to you, leaving Sae as the witness to whatever embarrassment is about to occur. He grabs you and forces you to stand up.

“Your explosion was the freakiest I’ve seen yet. Ka-boom!”

Is this supposed to be a compliment?

“Are you kidding me, your goal before that got me all fired up.”

Wow, and you, by all accounts a big-headed prick, are returning the kind(?) words.

“Pretty fun, isn’t it?” asks Shidou. “I’m having a blast.”

“I’m so happy and free of restraints, it’s like I’m on acid. No, something stronger. Ecstasy! DMT! PCP! Meth! Feeling this good should be against the rules! They should suspend me for doping!”

“You get me,” Shidou says in astonishment, parting his mouth in surprise. “You totally get me! It’s not something that makes sense! It’s a sensation! A state of existence! Let’s stay in symbiosis forever!”

What the fuck is going on.

You intertwine your fingers with his and proceed to dance by spinning around each other in a circle like some freaks. Sae steps out of earshot inch by inch, fleeing the scene.

___

You’re gathering your things from the apartment since you and Shidou need to leave tonight. You spent two hours trying to DIY fix the balcony door again, but the endeavor was unproductive. For him, the most time-consuming task was retrieving all his products from the bathroom.

“You know, you’re so much fun when you’re in a good mood,” Shidou says, probably still thinking about the match, even though your team didn’t end up winning.

“Hey, Shidou. Do you remember that weird thing you said?”

“What thing?”

God, of course he doesn’t register the shit he spews as abnormal. You roll your eyes. “‘Let’s stay in symbiosis forever.’ Did you mean it?”

“I already told your demented ass I’m pretty straight-forward. I don’t say things just to say them! Get it through your head. Lip service is lame.” You frown and let out a noncommittal hum in response, which makes Shidou nudge you then poke you in the face until you respond. “What’s the matter? You’re not hitting me or screaming, so must be something bad.”

“I’m… I’m alone a lot, and I mean alone, not lonely, don’t get it twisted, so this is a big promise. We’ll have to make a blood pact over it if you’re serious.”

“Hm? Okay.”

“What, really? Just like that?”

“Make it the promise of a lifetime,” he sings, before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer so you’re standing cheek-to-cheek. “You drive my love cells wild.”

The stare you scrutinize him with is one of abject horror.

“Come on, say something.” He starts poking you — this time in the ribs — when you don’t respond for a long time, but his grin settles into a thin line as if he’s possibly afraid he might’ve put you off.

You elbow him in the stomach, which distracts him from the jabbing he was doing, and then your demeanor switches entirely because you smile, point up your index finger and declare, “You know what? I like how enthusiastic you are about me. Let’s get married.”

Shidou bursts out laughing and this is apparently amusing enough for him to forget the way you shoved him back. “You’re kinda intense.”

“Me? Intense? And you aren’t?”

“Nah, I’m pretty chill.”

How you’re both this self-unaware, no one will ever know.

___

y/n to sae: Me and my boyfriend saw u from across the bar and we really like your vibe

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #shidou ryuusei x reader #shidou x reader #blue lock x you

127 notes · View notes

itoshi-s · 1 year

Text

@mejxmemkodofoof requested: yandere!rin + "I want to keep you all to myself" // no lukewarm love v-day event !

cw: suggestive, dark content, yandere, implied noncon. mdni

rin has never put much thought into how intense he experiences things.

if anything, it only ever helped and brought him so much praise - enough to make it feel like he's about to choke on it. hardworking, passionate. he'll get far in life - in football, or anything else he puts his mind into. (bold of them to think he's ever going to quit. not happening, until he climbs his way to the very top - he's not a quitter, never has been.) he can and will achieve everything his heart desires. that's how he is - calculated and controlled, focused and rapt. yet underneath, his heart thumps and blood boils, every nerve sparks as passion runs rampage in every cell and flickers behind turquoise irises, that perhaps look all too crazed all too often.

rin never really paid attention to his instinctive yet driven nature - not unless it was on the field and devoured every single player in his path.

not until he's met you.

one look at your face - bright and inviting, eerily familiar and nostalgic, as if he's been longing to see you for his entire life and then some - and it's like something awakens, splinters deep inside and pulls at his heart until it swells against his ribcage.

it's only natural you end up in the passenger seat of his aston martin later that night, all smiles and gentle laughter. a saccharine melody that still sounds so, so sweet, despite the booze you've been sipping on the past few hours, concealed in bright, blue syrups.

rin feels it's ironic. perhaps, there might be something just equally bitter laced underneath the vibrant teal of his eyes, too.

something to knock you off your feet, creep up on you - hit it's high when you willingly, stupidly take, take, take even more. something so honeyed, sugary sweet - all until it makes you hurl.

if everything rin's ever felt was intense, then your presence must be an entire tidal wave. it steals his breath away, brings his hands to a tremble when he laces his fingers with your own, holding you down and urging the highest pitches from your swollen, glossed lips. it eats away at his insides, dismantles any illusion of control, and throws him off the edge - right into your warm embrace.

you want to take things slow - that much he grasps from the convo you share next morning, sipping on some brazilian blend that suddenly tastes sweeter than ever when shared with you. rin watches you, teal eyes observant, and if the way his gaze follows your every notion is anything to go by, the must not be tired at all; not even from how he's had you pressed into the sheets until the sun started bleeding through the blinds.

he can take things slow. he can, for you. rin understands - he really does - when your eyes widen a bit upon his casual comment on how he has practice later today and therefore cannot take you to dinner like he wishes he could. he understands when you sheepishly admit that you have recognized his face from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it.

he doesn't mind. if anything, he's grateful he's barely a blank page to you. and fine, maybe the suddenly timid behavior of yours makes something deep inside him corrode into something ugly and possessive - but again, rin pays no mind to it.

to you, he can be anything and everything you want him to be. not just the national team's captain, not the star striker, not a name plastered with all the possible titles one could dream of. for you, rin can be anything your heart desires - you just have to let him.

and it's a tough, bumpy road to make you love him as much as he loves you. a reality check of sorts, one that suddenly rips off any bandage rin has tried to slap on the sweltering passion, seeping out the jagged wounds his adoration for you inflicts. it's an endless cycle, but he can make it just fine.

rin can take it.

he can see some more of the gentle smiles when you bid him goodbye at your doorstep, hair still disheveled and eyes hazy with sleep that he knows you'll get right back to as soon as he walks out. you need your rest after all - you're going out later that night, for one of your friends birthday - dressed up like his eyes on you are not enough, as if you've got someone else to impress.

he can force himself to nod and even offer a rare, small smile when you insist that he doesn't need to come and pick you up. don't be silly, rin. i'll text you when i'm home if that makes you feel better? it won't - but he appreciates the effort and deludes himself that you honestly, truly want to ease his worries away, even the ones you're the very reason for.

he can push the sour ache that rips its way through his chest when you turn down his offer to take you out - again. he's not throwing you on deep waters, doesn't push or nag. and yet, your eyes refuse to meet his own - perhaps fearful he'll find the uncertainty simmering behind them - when he suggests you attend one of his teammate's party together. as casual as it gets, but still not enough to not scare you away. rin, don't get me wrong, it's just... you said we don't need to rush, and it's a lot. everyone will know.

it irks something, he has to give you that. for a second, it seems like you want to make him feel dumber than he is. of course everyone will know - that's the point. it annoys him that you keep acting as if you're delusional, not noticing the not-so-subtle signs. but it's okay.

it's you, so for now, it's okay.

it's okay, until it isn't. rin has it under control until you force it right out of his hands, smooth the creases in his knuckles out with saccharine words that bleed into the humid midnight air and bounce off the egyptian cotton sheets.

"you're not telling me enough," you whisper into his bare chest, and maybe if it wasn't for the sleep overcoming your senses, you would've heard - felt - the erratic beat of his poor, poor heart. "y' need to talk to me, rin."

and talk he does. it spills out, all of it - all the passion he's so well known for, that floods the field and soaks into the turf, leaving no spot unsoiled by this overwhelming dedication of his. but this time, it seeps into you - something far more fragile, perhaps naive for thinking that you can handle it - handle the entirety of him.

clammy hands find their place on either side of your face, cupping the soft plush of your cheeks with utter care - a distinction to the sharp, overwhelming desire ripping through the turquoise eyes you thought you knew.

"i want to keep you all to myself," rin confesses at last and feels his chest hollow at the way your body tenses up - almost jerks away from the sheer force behind his words. "and it scares me. i want you, and i love you. you just need to let me."

perhaps, he was delusional.

almost childishly, foolishly so, for thinking that it wouldn't scare you, too.

but he held onto it, tight until it broke skin and stung. as if you were a storm and the remnant of hope was his lifeline, something to cling to as he continues to wish the greed eventually dies down. but it never does, instead feeds from the confusion and sheer panic that arises when days pass by and you grace him with less attention than he's used to - that you've gotten him hooked on.

it's unfair. it's scary and intimidating and unlike anything he's ever felt before - and he's felt a lot.

and when rin feels something, it hits him full force and knocks the airout of his lungs. when he loves, it's until you're choking on it, inhaling his devotion with every desperate breath - you might not know it yet. maybe he doesn't, either - but his instincts has never failed him yet. right now, they're louder as ever and tint his vision red - the color of passion, the very thing that clings to him every step of the way, and makes him who he is.

rin feels a lot, but he's learnt to live with it. wild and impulsive, yet collected and steady - two sides of one coin that he knows how to balance just fine, but somehow, when your face comes to mind, he cannot bring himself to do it.

he can keep it together for a little longer, and maybe smile a bit while he's at it, too. you're just a smidge too reckless, forget about the lost pair of keys far too quick than he'd like you to. they were never lost in the first place, instead safely tucked into the pocket of his jacket - a fucked up souvenir of sorts, maybe - but that you're unaware of. and yet, you still don't pay it much mind anymore. who would even want to break in here, rinnie? - then, a laugh, one that he doesn't reciprocate - c'mon, it's not a big deal.

he wishes you could keep the same attitude until a couple nights later, for when you stir awake in the dark, only to meet his frenzied eyes - but you don't, and perhaps he pushes his palm against your mouth a bit too rough, yeah, but it's what he has to do.

rin hopes you understand - just like he understood you.

as he licks the tears off your warm cheek and forces his other hand between your trembling thighs, for a split second he thinks that it's the least you owe him.

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #alSO thank u for ur kind words when requesting < 33 I’m glad u enjoy my silly lil writing abshsjssk #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #yandere blue lock #yandere bllk #rin my love

667 notes · View notes