#fc barcha

"So what even is this about?" he mutters, glancing down at the soft pink ribbon you’re tying around his bicep like it's some good luck charm, or simply donating some of that girl power in his blood system.

"It's a cute trend," you answer, tugging the ends into a neat little bow on the curve of that impossibly large arm.

"You see me shirtless every day," he says, licking at the corner of his mouth, and considering his casual tank tops and the fact that he’s always shirtless at home. The man is 191cm of lean, carved-up perfection of a Greek God: biceps, abs, thighs, all of it, or in other words, a living, walking sin.

"Yeah?" you say sweetly, but when you lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then just below his ear, now this is what gets his attention. "I never get tired of seeing you look like my personal prize." He huffs, but he’s grinning when you loop the pink satin carefully, knotting it in a pretty little bow around the thickest part of his bicep. It looks ridiculous…ridiculously hot. Contrast of soft and sharp, muscle and ribbon, pure masculine cockiness wrapped in a pink glitter.

“Okay,” you whisper, smiling as you look at your piece of art. “Flex.”

He does, but just a little at first, teasing you. Then harder and the muscle swells, vein popping, and the ribbon stretches—SNAP. You blink before the lace bursts apart, watching it fall on the floor.

“¡Ay, no!" Bunny grins, smug as ever, not even surprised that this happened. “Guess you’ll have to use a chain next time.” Already planning a redo. Maybe one tied tighter, or not at all, if he keeps looking at you like that.

synopsis: A series of events leads you to a stranger who’s not as random as fate makes it seem

a/n: there are parts in this story that deal with sensitive and emotional themes. While it does not directly portray su!c!d3 or se!f-harm, some readers may interpret certain moments as sensitive in nature. This is NOT meant to glorify, romanticize, or diminish the seriousness of su!c!d3 or those who are struggling with it. My work is just a personal and interpretive way on how I think Bunny would cope with his emotions and thoughts. BUT if this topic is triggering or close to your experience, please take care of yourself, consider reaching out for support if you need it and know that you’re not alone and I sincerely hope you’re doing okay.

Seeing Bunny Iglesias leaning against a bridge at night made for one hell of a first meeting.

It wasn’t anything worth noticing.

He was dressed in a black cap, everyday clothes and nothing would’ve gave him away, aside from the faint glimpse of lavender hair peeking through. Not many people were out there at this time anyway, so most would’ve passed him without a second glance.

You would’ve minded your own business and kept walking too.

You almost did.

But just as you were about to pass him, you noticed the way he leaned…just a little further than what felt safe.

That’s when your (flawed or not) instincts kicked in.

“WAIT-”

Grabbing his hoodie, you yanked him back, practically tackling him to the ground as he let out a sharp cough from the force.

In an instant, you were both on the ground—your leg half-thrown over his, one hand pressed against his chest as you tried to keep him still, your breathing shaky under the sound of passing cars overhead.

Time kept moving.

He didn’t.

Steadying yourself, you quickly sat up, immediately grabbing his face between your hands.

“Are you okay?”

Soft lavender locks fell into his eyes as Bunny let out a low groan, noticing the warmth of your hands against his skin, your eyes locked onto his crimson ones.

Not his scars.

No recognition in your eyes either.

Just pure worry. Care. Whatever. Maybe even a few tears threatening to form.

“You have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen, querida…” he muttered, smirking at the look of confusion on your face.

“Dude…I think I caused you a concussion.” you said, before turning his face left and right for any signs of injury. “At least you’re alive and aren’t bleeding.”

Alive?

…OH-

A loud echo of his laugh filled the midnight air of Spain, despite the ache in his body.

“You thought…?” he breathed out.

“What?” you sniffled, now more annoyed than worried, but still refusing to let go of him. “That you were about to die? Yeah, I fucking thought that.”

Slowly sitting up, he steadied himself with one hand on the ground while the other clutched his cap before meeting your gaze more properly now.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, sorry for that. Really. Swear on my life, I was just trying to grab my cap.”, he said with a hint of teasing, voice much softer now, lifting it slightly in his hand as proof. “The wind blew it off…”

Letting out a sigh, you climbed off him and got to your feet before offering a hand to help him up.

“I’m sorry too. For the misunderstanding,” you mumbled, glancing at his now ripped pants. “And for your jeans…”

At that, he simply ruffled your hair and placed his cap on top of it, before leaning down and carefully wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“It’s okay, mi heroína.”

For a second too long, he lingered like he wanted to say something else, but decided to just smile and pull away. Casually walking off, he turned his head back over his shoulder halfway down the bridge.

“KEEP IT!”

And with that, he was gone.

You stood there for a while, the bridge quiet again except for the distant city noise and your heartbeat still hammering in your chest.

Once your breathing steadied, you crouched down, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body as you took a closer look at the stranger’s cap.

A rabbit stitched neatly on the front.

“…cute…”

Running while weaving through the crowd, you were just about to avoid it when the restaurant door swung open and someone walked straight into you.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, wincing as you looked at the white shirt now stained with coffee.

“It’s okay.”

That voice…

“Oh, mi heroína…is that you?”

Looking up, your eyes caught on the familiar black cap.

A rabbit stitched on the front.

The very same one you’d been wearing for months.

Today was no exception.

Then you took a closer look at his face.

Same grin and dead eyes.

“You?”

“Yeah, me.” he seemed surprisingly pleased by the sight of his cap on your head.

It had been months since that incident, and you hadn’t expected a reminder of it here, of all places. But fate, apparently, had other plans.

Standing in the middle of the crowd, he looked around before gently grabbing your wrist as he led you toward a quieter corner.

“Wanna grab a drink?” he offered, completely unbothered by the fact that he was already soaked in your coffee.

“I think I’m just gonna wring your shirt out,” you replied, digging through your bag for a tissue.

Letting out an amused laugh, he squatted down, pulling his cap off and ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head as he glanced up.

“Wanna see me half-naked?”

“You’re gonna be half dead if you don’t shut up.”

Grinning, he watched you for a while before pulling out his phone, and holding it out to you.

“You can give me a call once you find a dry cleaner.”

“Or…I could just pay you for it…” you said, pushing his phone away.

He clicked his tongue. “That’s boring.”

“What?”

“Meeting you again sounds better.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping a little closer before squatting down to his level, though it didn’t help much as he was still taller.

“Because you think I’m interesting or something?”

“Yeah.” leaning in slightly, his tone turned playful, eyes glancing over your face. “I’m also pretty interested.”

It was outside the stadium where you were told to wait for him.

The crowd was still spilling out in waves, voices and footsteps blending into one loud blur.

When he finally showed up with two drinks in his hands, you assumed he’d just been there to the watch a match or something—nothing about him really screamed “professional athlete”. Not when he looked that put together without a drop of sweat in sight.

Not yet, at least.

“So…how did the match go? Did you cheer?”

He paused in his steps, tilting his head. “What do you mean, cariño?”

You gave him a confused look, now confused at his confusion.

“Like…you were cheering. As a fan. Right?”

And then, like a light bulb flicking on, he nodded.

“Ah, yes. Totally. We won.”

As the two of you kept walking without any real destination, you decided to break the silence once again.

“Exactly how many of the same cap do you have?”

Taking a sip, Bunny glanced between the one on your head and the one in his hand.

“A few.”

“A few?”

“A lot.”

You stared at his grin with growing concern as you took another sip of your drink.

“Rich people scare me.”

That earned a laugh.

“Let’s just say I used to be a football fan, querida. I’m allowed to own more than one cap.”

“Pretty sure owning ten identical ones count as a crime.”

“Good thing I never said ten.”

“Oh my god.”

The grin on his face only widened as he continued walking ahead.

Meanwhile, the city around you was buzzing with chatter and laughter, cars passed by, and people hurried along the sidewalks as the heatwave continued to rage. Somehow, it felt strangely similar to that night on the bridge.

Just less dramatic.

And significantly less crying.

Taking a break on a nearby bench, he rested his face on his hand, eyes flickering to his cap on your head.

“You kept it.”

Reaching up, you touched the brim.

“Well, you told me to.”

“Most people would’ve given it back.”

“Most people don’t save your life on a random night even if it was a huge misunderstanding.” you argued.

“That’s your reason?”

“One of them.”

“What’s the other?”

You shrugged.

“It seemed pretty expensive. You could have changed your mind and stalked me down to get it back. Some kind of exclusive merch, y’know?”

With a raised brow, he scooted closer, a sly grin on his face.

“Sí, claro. My favorite player’s.”

“And remind me…who’s your favorite again?”

“SUPER GOOOOOLAZOO!

BUNNY IGLESIAS!”

Sitting in front of the TV, you didn’t know whether to act surprised, offended, or simply stupid at the fact that…

“You didn’t tell me you were a freaking world-class athlete!”

Staring back at his own face on the screen, Bunny let out a small laugh, shaking his head before dropping down onto the rug in front of the couch while you sat surrounded by cushions and his bunny plushie from ages ago.

“I mean…” he said quietly, eyes fixed somewhere past you. “Would you have looked at me the same way if you knew?”

Stunned, you just stared at him for a moment, the noise from the TV fading into the background as his words replayed in your head.

Would you have looked at him the same way if you knew?

The question stuck with you in a way you couldn’t quite shake.

It wasn’t about football, fame or that he’d somehow forgotten to mention he was one of the best players in the world.

It wasn’t the revelation that bothered you.

It was the doubt behind it.

The quiet assumption that finding out who he was might somehow change everything.

As if the person you’d met and the person sitting in front of you were two different people.

Something in your chest ached at the way he asked it, but your answer was already clear in your mind.

“Obviously.” you grabbed a cushion and tossed it at him. “Who are you to get my special treatment?”

It hit him square in the chest.

For a second, he just stared.

Bunny looked genuinely caught off guard.

It could have been your answer—simple, but honest or the fact that, for once, he’d felt seen without everything else attached to him.

You saw him as just a living person named Bunny Iglesias.

At the thought of that, he gave you a ghost of a smile.

“You sometimes make me wanna die, cariño.”

“You’re welcome, but I wouldn’t let you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Shaking his head, he leaned back against the couch, sitting on the floor between your knees.

The conversation drifted off after that, replaced by whatever movie was playing on the screen. At some point, you absentmindedly started playing with a loose strand of his hair.

He didn’t comment on it.

Didn’t move away either.

His apartment felt unusually quiet, warm sunlight long gone from the windows as evening settled outside.

After a while, you felt his head grow a little heavier against the couch.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Para nada.” [not at all]

Holding his face between your hands, you leaned in until your nose brushed his.

“Your eyes are literally closed.”

“Resting them.”

You snorted.

Right.

He was the one playing tonight just a few hours ago.

The same person you’d accidentally met months ago.

The same person you’d called out for having a ridiculous hat collection.

And somehow, the same person whose apartment you were currently crashing in simply because he’d asked.

Damn.

You were down bad.

And judging by the bunny caps sitting side by side on the coffee table, you were way too deep in this rabbit hole to pretend otherwise.

Occupied by your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice when he fell asleep.

Careful not to wake him, you pulled a blanket from the armrest and draped it over his figure. Without even opening his eyes, he reached out and caught your wrist—instinctively, like he wanted to make sure you were still there. The grip loosened almost immediately, but he never let go completely.

And for some reason, you didn’t bother pulling away either.

“Stay, mi heroína…please…”

You silently watched the way his face rested so peacefully against your palm before you finally gave in.

“Ugh, fine. I’m gonna steal your clothes tho. Be right back.”

There was something both intimate and irritating about lying in the same bed as Bunny.

“Couldn’t you have taken the couch?” you asked, patting the pillow wall you’d built to separate the bed.

Even through it, you could feel him inching closer, like he didn’t care much for boundaries.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” he mumbled, half-asleep, though you could still hear the faint smirk in it.

“Weren’t you the one begging me to stay?” you said, pulling the blanket closer.

“Begging? That’s strong.”

“It was. Pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

“Lucky you then,” he murmured. “You’re the first person I’ve ever acted like that with. And the only person to call me pathetic.”

You laughed, turning toward the window instead, the view of the night sky and the yellow lights that the city bathed in bringing an odd sense of comfort.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

“Bunny?”

“Hm?”

You hesitated.

“To be honest…when I first saw you, I thought you had the saddest smile on your face.”

Silence followed before there was a small shift beside you. The bed creaked as he sat up slightly, looking at you now instead of the ceiling.

“¡Qué locura!…” he murmured. “Today a guy at the restaurant said the exact same thing to me.”

“Really? Must be true then,” reaching for his hand, you started to trace slow circles over his knuckles as your hands rested on the pillow barrier.

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful though,” you added.

Silence settled again.

Then Bunny shifted closer, kicking down the pillow wall entirely.

“Maybe it was just waiting for someone who’d actually see it,” he said under his breath.

Before you realized it, the space between you was gone.

The pillow wall collapsed somewhere in the dark.

And neither of you bothered to fix it.

You fell asleep like that—his arms loosely around your waist, face tucked into your neck, breathing slow and steady.

And for the first time in a long while, Bunny had a real, genuine smile gently resting across his face.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

You woke up to the sound of cheers and whistle, commentators chanting Bunny’s name from the TV.

“Why are you replaying your own goal?” you mumbled, lying in his borrowed shirt with open arms as he dropped onto you, back facing the ceiling, settling into your embrace.

“Good morning, amor,” he greeted. “I was just analyzing yesterday’s match. The team was great, but…I realized…”

“Mm…” you hummed, fingers already tangled in his hair, urging him to continue.

“I want my own. Why don’t we make our own football team?”

He said it like it was the most normal idea in the world, punctuating it with lazy kisses as you tried to push him away.

Laughing, that was when you decided to grab a pillow and use it as a shield against his lips.

“Gross. Just shut up and go back to sleep, Iglesias.”

The stadium was still buzzing after the match Japan vs. Spain, a friendly league game that had brought some of the biggest names in soccer to your city.

You were standing outside the players' exit, clutching a FC Barcha jersey with number 19 on it.

Because he was here.

The door opened. Players started filing out.

Your heart slammed against your ribs when you saw him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Hair messy from the game.

You pushed forward.

"Bunny! Bunny, please.."

He turned. His crimson eyes landed on you.

You thrust the jersey and marker toward him.

"Can I please have your autograph? I'm your biggest fan. I watch all your matches every single one. The goal you scored in the semi-final? I cried. I literally cried. And today's match, when you did tha.."

"You talk a lot."

"I-I..what?"

He took the marker from your hand. His fingers brushed yours. His eyes stayed on your face, watching you with that grin.

"When I see a joyful person like you..I want to die."

You froze. Your brain short-circuited. Surely you must have misheard. 

( HE WANTS TO DIE BECAUSE HE'S HAPPY TO SEE ME!! )

You stood there,watching him disappear into the crowd.

"THANKYOU, BUNNYY"

It wasn't until you got home that it hit you.

He said he wants to die.

"What the hell…" 

You told yourself to stay away. But the universe had other plans.

You ran into him at a coffee shop two days later. He was sitting alone.

"Hey, Chatty."

"I-I was just leaving."

"You were running."

"I was not."

"Are you scared of me?"

(Yes.) "No."

"Liar."

You left. Your face was burning.

Then you saw him at a convenience store. Then at a park . Then at the museum. Everyday, you tried to avoid him. Everyday, you would run to him somehow.

And every time, you couldn't deny it up close, he was even hotter. Tall, broad, with that sharp jaw and those intense eyes.

The fourth time was different.

It was late . You were in a pair of shorts and a oversized shirt (which you regarded as your homeless outfit) running some errands.

You heard footsteps behind you and you instinctively knew who it was.

( OH GOD! AT LEAST NOT NOW!!)

You turned.

Bunny was there, chest heaving, eyes wild. He had been running.

"You."

"Oh! Hi, Good nightt"

He stepped closer. You stepped back. Your spine hit the wall behind you.

He planted a hand next to your head. Caged you in.

"You enjoy this, don't you? Watching me give everything. Watching me die on the field, piece by piece. That's what fans want, right? Blood. Sweat. Destruction"

Your hand moved before you could think.

Slap.

Bunny's head snapped to the side. His hand dropped from the wall. For a long moment, he didn't move. His smile was gone and for the first time, you saw him without it.

"That's not what a fan is, I don't want to see you die. I want to see you win. But even if you lose even if you fall, I'll still support you. Because that's what being a fan means."

You said as you left him there.

After that, things changed. Bunny started showing up everywhere this time intentionally.

"You're stalking me"

You said one afternoon as he dropped into the seat across from you.

"I'm being your fan."

He stayed in Japan longer than planned. You started spending every day together. He taught you Spanish curses.

And somewhere you fell for him.

The summer festival came at the end of July. Of course you told him to come and he agreed.

That night, you met him at the shrine steps. When he saw you in your yukata, his mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"What?"

 He reached out, fingers brushing the sleeve of your yukata.

"You look…"

The way he was looking at you said everything.

Your ears burned. "Let's go."

His fingers laced through yours the entire time.

The fireworks started at dusk. You found a spot on the hill, away from the crowd. Bunny sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders touched.

"When are you going to confess?"

"W-What?"

"Confess."

He wasn't looking at you. His eyes were on the fireworks, but his hand had found yours again.

"You're going to tell me you love me. I'm waiting."

"Who says I love you?"

"So, you hate me"

"Noo! I-I dont.."

"Then you love me?"

"You're supposed to confess first, Be a Man."

"I did."

"You did not!"

"I'm here, aren't I? I stayed. For you. That's my confession."

The fireworks exploded overhead. Pink. White. Blue.

You stared at him. The man who had told you he wanted to die when he saw you smile. Who had let you slap him. Who had followed you around Japan like a lost puppy. Who was looking at you now like you were the only thing in the world.

He leaned in. His forehead touched yours.

"Say it, I want to hear it."

Your hands fisted in his yukata.

"I love,I love you, you stupid, annoying, beautiful.."

He kissed you.His hands cupped your face.

Then you kissed him back.His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His mouth moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. His arms tightened around you.

He smiled against your neck. And the fireworks kept blooming overhead, painting the sky in colors you would remember for the rest of your life.

.

.

DUMP;

⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗

lamine yamal x f!reader.

dating dump.

note: thanks for your req!! i hope u like it

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after several months with lamine, he finally decides to make your relationship public.

Nunca pensei que iria ver um Br q escreve Bllk x m!reader, principalmente aqui no Tumblr 😭😭 amei teus trabalhos, continue ;DD

Mto mto obg! Tô muito feliz q meu primeiro pedido veio de um BR ♡ - Espero q goste! Pelo q entendi vc sabe inglês, mas se quiser a versão em pt-br, só me mandar msg ou outro pedido :D

(Thank u so much! Im really happy that my first request was made by a brazillian ♡ - I hope you'll like it! From what I understand you know English, but if you want the br version, just send me a message or other request :D)

Rage burst -> NEL hcs

neo egoist league teams x bllk male!reader

synopsis: you, a calm and collected player, suddenly have an outburst and get really angry

tags: bllk characters reactions, headcanons, NEL arc, soccer rage, calm to angry reader

warnings: manga spoilers, mature language, suggestive comments, pet names (kiddo, good boy, etc)

a/n: hey! requests are open! (if you speak the language you can send the request in pt, but i"ll do it in english :D)

masterlist.

A blue lock story <3 - PROLOGUE

Welcome to the Sundae Teens Club!

summary. when one night experience turns into many (pause), and somehow some international students mix with the infamous blue lock

content. fluff, humor, immaturity, possible suggestiveness but probably not, fun, kids being kids

other. Intended to be black reader coded, however some parts will also be POC friendly for the most part :)

enjoy! and feedback would be appreciated ^^

In all honesty, you had no idea what the hell you were doing in Japan.

And you certainly had no idea how the initial, seemingly boring night your group of friends had to endure for a couple bucks transitioned to actively mingling with supposedly egotistical, surprisingly friendly, absurdly famous, jaw-droppingly attractive— like why were some of them prettier than you??— extremely popular LOSERS, which yes, is a defense mechanism because why would you feed into the egos of some wack teenage boys?

Did you mention that they were incredibly attractive? 

Yeah.

Now sandwiched in a car amongst a mix of droopy-eyed teenagers with excitement radiating through the others, you, having lost some of your friends to the other vehicles, had your mind wandered back to the past to distract from the presence of the boys talking amongst themselves, some while sneaking (non-weird, I promise) glances at your relaxed figure.

As you looked out into the busy night, you had to ask yourself…

Where did this all even come from??

The week before…

Anri had a problem.

She knew what she signed up for with the whole Blue Lock project—heck she was even the one to develop the original concept herself, fighting tooth and nail to even receive a mere maybe from the inconspicuous higher ups in the company.

However, maybe the guilt of participating in Ego’s manic psychological battle grounds had brought her to this idea.

They were boys. Certainly reckless and nonsensical at times, but at the end of the day, they became exhausted like every other human being, in need of a break even for one day.

Anri thought so.

She had been observing their progress per usual, which was exceptional, though not surprising considering their environment, however, she knew that emotional burnout wasn't something that could be always visually recorded. 

Half of them reveled in an “emo” like state as any child going through puberty, so it was hard to tell the stability of their emotional state.

But in generally being contained in a prison circulating this air of competitive egoistical-gusts of puberty air certainly wrinkled her nose at the sour scent, giving her a good idea of what was going on. 

And yes they all had each other, but for god’s sake, they were all still kids in need of PROPER, non-transactional, socialization!

…which was why she opened a little project of her own in secret (somehow it slipped past Ego’s nose, or perhaps he simply didn’t care enough to question her growing eye bags that started to rival his own) where she researched the most engaging place for teens to attend. Japan had a lot to offer.

But, in digging through each of their personal records, Anri realized that their differences in interests would be hard to concentrate in a simple arcade or eating spot. 

Sighing at the lack of options, she kept looking for weeks, even having to resort to slipping some sly questions to the masters, who happened to be just as lost as her (or were yapping too much about one of their players to pay attention). 

First came Manshine City. 

Chris Prince had been too busy with his half-naked water-promoting photoshoot (what the hell..) to pay attention, of which he had tried to harass Chigiri into participating, claiming he needed a “unique” aspect to draw people in (adamantly ignoring Reo’s persistent suggestions that he could participate instead).

There was no use in bothering Nagi, of whom seemed to fall asleep in the most random places—like how does one sleep on top of the high bars (gym equipment)??

Agi was too busy zoning out on him, whether in disappointment at his lack of productivity, or questioning his life.

Anri didn’t know.

Then, regrettably, came Barcha. 

Lavinho was especially flirty, not to say that she wasn’t flattered, but the conversation soon died and his attention became concentrated in a back-and-forth talk with Bachira about his “monster” and the morbid concept Ego came up with as our “devouring one another,” but the way that it was being talked about seemed a lot more like cannibalism in a way.

She’d…pass on that interaction.

There was also no need to even wait for Otoya to make another sly joke about her being a sugar mama or whatever he said last time... Anri shivered grimly at the thought.

After that strange encounter, Anri believed it was best to go somewhere…calmer.

 At PXG…

Loki was scarily mature for his age, seemingly having real interest in the conversation Anri proposed between training Charles and delivering his short quips to aggravate Rin (?).

She admired his ability to focus amongst a chaotic environment, but there were many instances that made her believe that he wasn’t actually as far off of their level of insanity as he appeared to be… just weird.

Additionally, his suggestions of fine dining and dessert tastings were too calm for what she was looking for. 

Noa was… nevermind.

Finally, Snuffy— oh thank God for Snuffy— actually tried to help as much as he could but cultural barriers stood in the way, so Anri was left on her own.

To be honest, she just didn’t want to see what the context was behind Don Lorenzo woofing maniacally in the playback room, which was followed by a series of glass shattering, a concerned but an otherwise passive glance from Snuffy (does he expect this?), and the literal angry roars emitting from the one and only Barou King Shoei.

There wasn’t even a use in bothering Ego about it.  She wasn’t even sure if he was aware what socializing was, or if he even engaged in it past yapping on a virtual screen 24/7 (what did he even do before Blue Lock??).

So, Anri was left on her own to continue looking for weeks as the end of the NEL approached (she knew time was running out!). 

On one night of scrolling on the internet in the dark chambers of Ego’s lair—of which he was absent for some reason, Anri sat, bundled up in her little desk on the right of Ego’s setup, incredibly bored.

For the past hour, she’d been sipping her half empty caramel latte she threw together (sugar = energy in her mind, and it was close enough to bubble tea and her brain was too fried to differentiate between the two), all of which was essential to continue her search.

She resorted to scrolling on a news site, not sure what to expect, but anything was better than sitting around doing useless scrolling (beating the doomscrolling allegations fr fr).

Unfortunately, that too, was a dead end with nothing worthy of appealing to the differing interests of the Blue Lock boys.

To top it off, she accidentally clicked the x on the right side of her screen, losing the multiple saved tabs she found earlier that seemed semi-interesting.

Great…

At this point, Anri was practically vibrating in frustration, her fingers digging into her computer mouse to reluctantly open up the tab, swearing to herself that she’d give up in the next 5 minutes to save the few hours of sleep she could somewhat wiggle into her schedule before it was time to work again.

And then, she saw it.

Anri perked up at the sight of an article on the main web browser: a teens club (yk the Disney kind such as in Let it Shine)?

She immediately preened at her findings, straightening her posture to lean closer to her laptop, freeing herself from the blanket cocoon that preserved her warmth in the chilly office air.

Her eyes scanned each line of the detailed account: a once failing business had attracted the attention of some foreign exchange students that had been attending a STEM high school program in a neighboring city, turning it into a nightlife teen paradise!

The cherry on top was that the entire thing was hosted by the young girls (maybe she was a little biased, but she loved the pop songs from the newer generation, so she knew that the girls could cook up something good), creating a new hotspot for foreigners and Japanese citizens alike. 

Yes!!!

Scrolling further on the website, she eagerly read more about them: the school wanted to utilize their new designs somewhere, and when coming across a sad karaoke club going bankrupt, the girls begged their school to invest in it, which they happily agreed to.

Not only did they appear to be ambitious— her analytical mind taking over—but also exactly the kind of talent that could positively intermingle with the boys at Blue Lock. Jackpot!

Ego couldn’t disagree with this!

When she brought it up to him him next day, he surprisingly had little to comment about it.

The first nonverbal and verbal green light for her to initiate something since they started working together!

Perhaps, it was because he was intently focused on wrapping up monitoring the high intensity training he issued to the Blue Lock boys, seeming to be an experiment he wanted to try before the official matches continued (some extra content that Buratsuta begged asked him to organize. 

He actually gave her the green light, which was just him waving his hand behind his head dismissively to cut off her rambling, but not without an indirect threat that if any of the boys slacked off after it, she’d be fired or some shit (as if he could!), which luckily, her buzzing excitement tuned his comment out. 

That was a small victory for Anri, but it was nice to finally be heard for her ideas for once.

Later that evening, Ego boredly called for each stratum to meet in the spacious room from early 3rd selection, to where Anri happily delivered the news to every team at once, earning mixed reactions from the boys and the coaches.

Chris Prince beamed at an opportunity for publicity outside of the facility, and Lavinho seemed to have the same idea. 

Noa and Snuffy were passive as usual; Noa seeming to not care about the news, only giving a sigh as his reaction. 

Otoya in his classic pregnancy stance feigned nonchalance, which genuinely meant nothing good in the books of those that knew him well. 

With one sidelong glance beside him, Karasu could tell the white haired boy was stirring up a massive recipe for disaster.

He typically has a certain shift in aura that signified his method of “charging up” his (negative) rizz into his “ninja tactics,” a strategy that he had boasted to Karasu one night of its 100% success rate ignoring the millions aura lost by trying it out on Chigiri in the previous selection since he was “the closest to a girl in the facility.”

Anri was almost subjected to it once, but she swiftly evaded him before his “process” actually initiated. 

It was that bad.

However, Anri felt pretty optimistic at the curious glances from some of the star players (which she was glad to see interested in something that doesn’t involve football).

She smiled resolutely and hoped for the best.

Time for some socializing, Blue Lock boys!

The end.

Side note. Although I don’t know how it works yet, please don’t feed my writing into any AI programs or stealing it. Also this chapter doesn’t contain dialogue for the purpose of just being a little summary before the main portion :)

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