#So maybe somethings wonky idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fev3rish · 3 months

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so um, can we get some kenji Sato x Baseball reader? something like enemies to lovers, where Kenji is jealous of the reader for being one of the best baseball players in the women's league in Japan? to the point where some people say the reader is better than Kenji at the game? (or something like that idk loll) (I'm NOT good at english, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes or something like that)

PUZZLE PIECES. kenji sato x reader

you truly held no ill intent—you just couldn’t stand him sometimes—and maybe there was potential between the two of you. not chemistry. potential. potential to be friends. not anything else. you wouldn’t mind if anything else came to be, though.

cw. i decided to combine these two requests because it would be easy to fit them into a story. rivals -> friends -> lovers, reader is shown to be kind of nonchalant, drunk confession, frequent and unpredictable perspective switches, gn!reader, reader’s ex is desperate, kenji and reader banter for half the story. if i wrote it in full, it would be too long to share to tumblr but too targetted to share anywhere else, so it’s only 4.5k words, weird pacing of the story, there are sprinkles and references to my previous drabbles with kenji, all around a rollercoaster, i wrote this in a day so i apologize if it’s wonky as hell, unproofreaded, lowercase intended, rivalry is kind of one sided because reader is written to have a sort of muted admiration of kenji

notes. i’m not as confident with this story as i am for my other ones :( i usually write mini fics, but this is a full fledged one shot and i am very critical of my one shots. i hope i don’t disappoint ! thank you all for enjoying my work :)

you remember him more than anyone. kenji sato, baseball star, highschool heartthrob with a heart of stone. you remember how arrogant he was too. you hate to admit it, but you understood why. you wanted to be as skilled as he was, and he didn’t believe you could be anything else but a water runner—something he said. to your face, too. you didn’t find it in yourself to hate him, infact—you were his biggest admirer then.

even now, you are. just subtly. he is the first name that comes up on your feed, and the last thought that leaves your mind when you finally go to bed. you smile, lazily, as you scroll through your phone and see his latest win. you want to dislike him, but you can’t; so you pretend. you filter it. it’s an act that comes down whenever you are in the comfort of your own home; where you can freely adore him.

he’s still so fucking cool.

kenji sunk into his beloved couch, exhausted after yet another game. he threw his head back, staring at the ceiling, relishing in the afterglow of victory. “hey mina!” he called, a cocky grin on his face as the a.i. assistant glided over to him. “yes ken?” she asks, knowing that he’s probably up to something but giving in anyway. “who can outmatch the greatest living player?!” he boomed, his voice bouncing off the walls as he flat-out refused to get off his high.

mina, tonight, decided to have fun. so, with a quick skim of the internet, and a particularly informative article—she pulled up a face on a projected screen, and replied with an answer he didn’t expect. a name. kenji’s smile left as quick as the light in his eyes did. “what? no way!” he laughed it off, but the faraway look in his eye said it all. it got under his skin. what did you have that he didn’t? that made you better than him? what was your batting average? how many stolen bases did you have? how can he schedule a ‘friendly’ game between your team and his?

how can he win?

“no way, mina.” he scoffed, trying to collect himself—the afterglow leaving him for a dullness he couldn’t explain. “there’s no way i just won one of the biggest games of my life and they’re just there, and the public’s eating them all up and calling them better of a player than i am. what makes them a better player than me?” his arrogant rambling leaves a bitter taste in his mouth—and kenji steps back a bit, actually recollecting himself because he knows better than this. he knows better than to let his emotions get in the way; atleast now. mina’s spinning around in circles, the bot observing kenji’s improvement. if she could, she’d smile. but she can’t, so she speaks to him as if she were smiling. “they cooperate well with their teammates.” she states, simply.

kenji pulls at his hair.

you stare in utter disbelief as the crowd cheers your name, wondering how exactly you got this far. you couldn’t even hold a bat properly once, and now, a couple years later, you run the bases after yet another home run. you’ve been carrying your team, but they’ve been the ones ordering you around because if you’re being honest, you genuinely have no idea what you’re doing. what are you even doing? how have you gotten this far? well, you know the answer—amazing teammates, good eye-to-hand coordination, and most importantly, luck.

kenji sits in the stands, mouth parted as he watches you run. you improved, he can tell, and he hates that he’s proud. the only luck he’s been given is that he’s disguised. his sunglasses don’t show his disdain (is it truly disdain? he wants it to be. he ignores that he’s amazed.) and his facemask, in response to how gagged he was, just wrinkled a bit. “you’re shitting me…” he thinks aloud, watching as you celebrated with your team; another win to cross off.

he tries to leave discreetly, he really does—but you make eye contact with him. he goes rigid. you walk over, bidding farewell to the rest of your group as you approach him. you look up at kenji, and something in you just knows. but you want to pretend, you have to pretend; and it wasn’t your fault if you wanted to have a little fun, too. you put up a sweet, sweet smile—

“are you a fan?” you ask, “would you like my autograph?” you ask again, and he sucks in a breath. no one is here, not anyone that matters atleast— everyone’s skittering out of the dome and suddenly kenji is, too. he wants to walk pass you, but in fairness, he was provoked first. “no, actually.” he replies, coolly, and there’s this glint in your eye that has maggots forming in kenji’s stomach, eating away at his insides—or perhaps, they’re butterflies. kenji doesn’t want to think about it. he just wants to think about you. “you win a couple games and suddenly you think you’re the star of the show?” he tilts his head, walking closer to you. his sunglasses are taken off, and now he’s really looking down on you. you, who only shrugs. “i mean, maybe.” you say. “i definitely outshine you though, don’t i?” you retort and he hisses. the scene is reminiscent of two cats, circling eachother as they bare their fangs. “wow, and here i was,” kenji dramatically began, “about to apologize to you for all that shit in highschool!” he continued, and he was about to open his mouth again before you intervened. “oh, you mean where you peaked?”

“excuse me?” said through grit teeth. “highschool?” you chirped, “where you peaked?” “oh, excuse me.” he gasped, taken aback. you snickered, and he sneered. “you’re the worst.“ he leaned in close, eager to get that through your head—eager to get under your skin as much as you got under his, but you only blinked up at him with a slight blush on your face.

“are we about to kiss right now?” you raise an eyebrow promiscuously, and kenji almost claws at you before he clasps his hand together. he stays like that. you take a second to realize he’s doing breathing exercises. “why the fuck is he doing breathing exercises?”

it slips out. it genuinely, truthfully just slips out—you think out loud and kenji sato, the man of japan himself, literally goes red in the face. he turns to you, then turns around and walks away.

even when he’s all red and embarrassed, he is still so freakishly cool.

it seems all kenji wants to do is one up you, and all you really want to do is go to dinner with him. it’s embarrassing, the hardened glare he sends you when he sees you in the stands, ready to watch his games. you want him so bad and he thinks you take joy in his displeasure, and you know that this is such a stupid misunderstanding but it’s… well, it’s fun. and you haven’t had any opportunities to even try and talk to him, because he always gives you sass. how could a man have that much sass? even you don’t know, and you like to think you know everything. you know that kenji’s cute as hell, and that you want him really bad, and that’s all that you need to know. ever.

meanwhile, kenji is irritated at the mention of you—and he makes it known with a scrunch of his nose and a frown on his lips. when you walk into the room, he rolls his eyes. when you run your hands through your hair, you swear you see his gaze linger but you don’t know if it’s truly a gaze, or a glare. you want to speak to him, but with the way he holds his bat like it’s a weapon around you makes it seem like he wants to spar. you do not want to spar. it’s the same as always, today—another game won by the giants, another game you attended, and another game kenji had a harder time locking in on.

you try and try and you keep on trying—actually, you don’t plan on stopping. kenji sees you as an enemy, but all you see in him is a potential husband. he can’t be that bad, right? not as bad as your last one. no one can be as bad as your last one, and it irks you just thinking about him. you don’t even want to call him an ex of yours, because he was never truly yours in the first place.

no, he wasn’t. four months down the drain just like that, because he couldn’t keep it in his pants when a pretty girl asked him to dance.

what a shame.

you had a visceral reaction to your own mind, and your face soured before you even felt it. kenji saw that, and his eyes darkened. “you have a problem with how i play today?” he was up in your face before you knew, his face as sour as yours. you jump back. “why do you care if i do?” you bring up, “you wanna impress me?”

“to hell with impressing you.” “to hell with you.” “oh, you’re the worst.” “is that all you can say?” “if i said all i could, you’d sue me.” “no, i wouldn’t care enough. my parents raised me better.” “so did mine.”

you bite your tongue, then. you’re silent as he looks at you, and under his scrutiny, you shrink. the smirk on his face is smug and insufferable, as expected of someone so hellbent on one upping you.

“hey now, why so quiet?” there he is again, getting all up in your face and rubbing his seven seconds of victory to you. “cat got your tongue?”

“precisely. that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on.” “no, it isn’t.” “yes, it is.” “no, it isn’t.” “no, it isn’t.” “yes it is—hey!” kenji caught himself, or tried to, but it was already way too late. “hah! you’re a complete ditz—“ you exclaimed, before kenji shushed you with a light punch.

“i’ll have you know that we have an exhibition game tomorrow and i plan on destroying you.” he talks big, but the chances of him serving up a win is small. you have to thank kenji for making you more confident in your skills, because of just how butthurt he is over you. he’s waited long for this moment; to finally be able to face off against you—show the people who the top dog truly is—and now he has it.

and he won’t disappoint.

the game ended abruptly due to a kaiju targetting the dome it was set in, and you couldn’t help but notice kenji’s panic in the corner of your eye. you couldn’t blame him, you were scared out of your mind too—but then he didn’t run towards the exit, he ran towards you. “watch out!” he called, and you looked up and froze.

debris was coming down on you, and fast.

when you looked down in a panic, trying to see where to go—ken was no where to be found, and from behind you, the famous ultraman made his appearance. he greeted you, albeit a bit… sassy. a familiar kind, one that you seemed to recognize—you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“bro, can you get moving—i mean— cease this.. dawdling! faithful citizen, leave at once or you might get hurt!” he boomed, his voice echoing the same way a certain other person’s did. he held the debris that was going to crush you in a single hand, and you could only gawk.

who were you to deny ultraman?

after that encounter, you didn’t see each other for a while. it admittedly made you a bit sad, you truly held no ill intent—you just couldn’t stand him sometimes— and maybe there was potential between the two of you. not chemistry. potential. potential to be friends. not anything else.

you wouldn’t mind if anything else came to be, though.

tonight, you had decided to treat yourself; a night at tonkatsu tonki would do for sure. you placed an order and sat tight, bundled up in one of the comfy booths in the corner as you scrolled through your phone. it did do, so far! you felt your muscles loosen and your jaw unclench with each smile sent your way. for once, you felt yourself relax—then you heard someone call out your name. someone you couldn’t forget. not yet, atleast—the wound was still healing. you refused to pick at it even further. you looked up and—“oh fuck.”

“what are you doing here?” your most recent mistake asks. he tries to get close to you, to sit in your booth and disturb your peace—but you stand up before he does. “why do you care?”

“because this was our spot.” he replies, “we came here for our three month anniversar—“ he tries to continue but you’re so tired. you stop him with a raise of your hand, “this was not where we went. you’d have known if you paid attention to me while we were together.” your response is curt, and you see hurt flash in his eyes—similar to the way it flashed in yours whenever he pulled the same bullshit he promised not to pull. “listen, i’m sorry—“ you ignore him the same way he did when you tried to speak. you turn, going back to your booth but he pulls you by the wrist and you realize that he doesn’t want to say sorry.

rather, he wants to show he’s sorry. or maybe that’s not the case either—maybe he wants to make you sorry.

regardless, you yank your hand away and stomp on his foot—he curses. you’re lucky the restaurant’s nearing closing time, otherwise you’d have more of an audience and therefore more of a PR nightmare. he raises his hand, and you raise your own to block what you know will be a hit—but nothing comes. well, no one except kenji. he has his hand on your ex’s wrist, as he squeezes it tight—enough to bruise.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his face is scrunched up in anger, and you sigh in relief. “none of your fucking business.” your ex replies—he tries to act tough, but his voice cracks and you know he’s scared. kenji takes the chance to get a good look at him, and he cracks up. “you… you play for the tigers, don’t you? we decimated you. had your team’s heads on the ground from how embarrassed they were last time we played; you wanna take another defeat?” he snickers. your mouth drops in awe of the sudden juicy drama unfolding, and also partially because kenji is really, really handsome.

the restaurant’s emptied out by now, and you three are only accompanied by the employees—who are reluctantly waiting for the two men to settle their little scuffle. you watch as your ex tries to struggle against him, tries to run off, and the only thought in your mind is: what did i ever see in him?

“let me go!” he yells, “let them go, first.”

your ex looks between him and you, who only calls a waiter over to order a drink. two drinks, to be exact. he stomps out of the restaurant right after. kenji is about to leave, as well, but tonkatsu tonki closes in thirty minutes—and you have a drink and a free seat. he can’t resist. he slides into your booth with an undeniable swagger, relishing in yet another victory as you smile kindly. “you didn’t have to do all that.” you start, sheepishly—he just takes a sip of the drink you ordered him. “yeah, well, i did. what about it?” you raise your hands in mock surrender, and he lets out a lighthearted laugh. “thank you, then. thank you for doing all that.”

“don’t get used to it.” he points, and this time—you laugh. you ask him about his day, and suddenly thirty minutes feels like forever. by the time you two get kicked out of the restaurant, he has your number unblocked and a promise to be annoyed every single day that a part of him hopes you’ll keep.

there was a spark, then, and it lit up so evidently between the two of you. a piece of eachother, found in each other. it was an epiphany to kenji, and an honor for you. you fit together like puzzle pieces, and yet you didn’t even realize it because you were both so intent on making the wrong parts of yourself fit, when they didn’t.

eventually, unblocked numbers turned to frequent messages, and frequent messages turned to inside jokes—inside jokes became personal hangouts. kenji sato found himself a part of your life, and he ended up loving it. your bickering became friendly, and lighthearted bullying was always a welcome notion— he made it a point to beat your ass at baseball as often as he could, but he always took you out to drink, on him. if he won. if he didn’t, you’d be the one treating him. it was a win-win situation for the both of you, even though one of you lost.

eventually, feelings blossomed.

kenji’s smiles made you smile, and he started buying things because those things reminded him of you; his heart beat a little faster as you walked over to greet him, and your cheeks burned whenever he winked at the screen during games. eventually, that friendly banter became more… flirty. you were toeing the line between friends and lovers.

you loved it.

kenji snaked an arm around your shoulder as you sat, thigh pressed against thigh, your head leaning on his bicep. you were at another bar, and ken was in another world. it was no surprise to you that he was a light weight, and with several swigs of his second bottle—he had been reduced to a blabbing baby of a man. a blabbing baby of a man who was getting suspiciously close to you—too close to just be platonic affection. you wonder if he’ll remember this the next day. you hope he doesn’t, with all the nonsense he’s spouting about being ultraman and how saving the city from kaiju is his ultimate duty. it’s going to be embarrassing, especially since it’s in such a public setting.

you take an uber to your house; he’ll have to deal with it if he wants to save his career after all. it’s a complete pain in the ass to haul his ass to the cab, but the way his hair frames his face just right—reddened face still handsome as he glances down at you, you just accept that some men are born as apologies for the existence of the entire male gender.

the entire car ride is full of the uber driver trying not to laugh as you struggle against kenji, who wants to sleep on your lap but can’t because the car is too small. the driver bursts into laughter as kenji starts crying, and you pull out your phone.

it can not be this hard to take care of a drunk man.

kenji is laying on the cold tile of your floor, tapping at the air because he thinks it’s an ipad and you have to resist the urge to just leave him to his own devices. you know damn well he won’t let you, anyway. he’s had his hand wrapped around your ankle for the past two minutes. “kenji.” you start, “let go.”

“erm… no.” “kenji.” “i love it when you say my name.” he says, amidst an abundance of giggles. you’re being pulled down onto the floor with him, and there’s remnants of that one strawberry cocktail he had before shit really hit the fan in his breath. “say my name again.” he asks, and you say it again—not knowing it’ll unleash a conversation you never knew you wanted—needed—to have.

“kenji.” you say his name again, for the third time, your face heating up as he buries his face into your stomach, inhaling your scent. “you’re perfect.” he says, slurring over his words and you freeze. “didn’t know that was something you’d ever say to me. usually, you’d be focused on strategizing how to keep beating me at baseball.” you mutter, softly—and a part of you finds humor in the situation. you want to, atleast. you find no humor, but you do find hope—for what, you don’t know.

“i find myself focusing on you more, hehe—“ you bite your lip. you muffle out his laughs. he’s just drunk. “you know, i’m better than him.” he’s just drunk. “i don’t see why you haven’t just thrown me over your shoulder yet,” he pauses, to let out yet another intoxicated laugh. “if you gave me a chance, i’d prove it too.” he hiccups.

you’re on your tiled floor, laying down with a six foot tall man and he’s confessing his love to you in drunk rambles. he’s promising he’s better than all your exes. he would be.

how did you get here again? why don’t you want to leave?

“bro, i want you so bad….”

ah, that’s why. you turn to face him, and he’s already looking at you. his eyes are glazed over with love so strong you know he’s been hiding it for too long, and you decide maybe it won’t be too bad just laying here. “…how long?” you inquire. his eyes sparkle, “since you ordered me that drink at tonkatsu tonki.”

“that’s a long time.” “i have a hard time communicating how much i truly value a person.” “i can see that.” “i can see you.” “and what do you think?” your lip quirks up, and he grins. “you’re perfect.” his hands find themselves on your waist, and you want to pull back—but he pulls you in faster, not into a kiss, but into a hug. “i’d treat you so good.” he starts again. “better than any one of your miserable exes. i’d take you out on dates weekly, and we’d have movie nights bi weekly where we interchange who picks the movies, and when we go to the bar together, i’ll show you off. when i win my games, i’ll point at you.” he babbles, and you look up at him as you listen to him promise a string of temptations you can’t help but give in to. “i’d treat you so, so good. make you come over, and then come over and ov—“

“okay, i get it.” “can i get you, then?” “maybe, when you’re not drunk.” “i’m not drunk. my name is kenji.” “okay kenji.” “my last name is sato. can you get that too?” “when you’re not drunk, kenji.” “no, it’s just kenji. not drunk kenji.” “do you want to sleep here or in the guest bedroom?” you deadpan. he blinks. “here. it’s comfier.” “okay, goodnight—“ “stay with me. just this once.”

you want to reject him, but you also don’t want to. so you cave, again, to his charms. he holds you so gently, cradling the back of your head with his palm as you listen to him babble. he seems to never stop professing his love for you, and you, lowkey, aren’t complaining. you deal with his blabber until he blacks out, and you look around to see if kenji has all he needs when he wakes up. it’s a chaotic situation, and you’re seconds away from going out of your mind—but you look around as if you’re looking around a baseball field. a glass of water and the bottle of tylenol is in arms reach, his things are on the couch, and you are in his arms.

you don’t want to leave, and it makes you sick.

you wake up and you’re faced with the bare wall and raging back pain. you groan, your eyes scanning the room—kenji isn’t here anymore. you make a mental note to check your phone, later. maybe he texted. you stand up and stretch, and before you can recover, a pair of hands poke your sides. you jump away, shrieking as you’re met with a kenji who’s as equal of a mess as you are. his eyes are framed by dark circles, and his hair isn’t as immaculate as it usually is—it’s the most attractive state you’ve ever seen him in.

“hi.” is all he says, and you take deep breaths. “you’re fucking crazy.” you say, “crazy over you.”

he remembers. your eyes bulge out of your own skull, threatening to fall out at any second, and you hold onto the wall for support as you try to keep it cool. “what—what.” well played. super smooth. the swagger is evident. what time is it? it’s only eleven am and you’re humiliating yourself. you’re dazed as kenji walks over to you, his eyes never once leaving yours—you want to look down, but you can’t stop looking at him. “so…” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish. not yet, atleast. he’s always been fond of edging. he liked the control, and being controlled— “so?”

“you remember.” you gulp. “i do, yeah.” “okay, well.. what do you think?”

“i think you’re perfect.” he bites the inside of his cheek, “—and i think i could treat you better than him.”

your whole world shakes. your heart’s beating and it bruises your ribs, and that would be enough of a confession—but he continues.

“and i truly don’t see why you haven’t thrown me over your shoulder yet, because i could prove it too.” he’s restating every point he made last night and it’s killing you. your silence only makes him want to continue. “i’ll treat you so good. movies, money, gifts, dates—anything you want as long as it’s you. i’ll treat you better than any one of your miserable exes.” when he smirks, you notice that one side of his lip quirks up higher than the other; a flaw, but one he let you see. no one’s gotten this close, after all. only you.

“that is, if you’ll give me a chance.” his confidence wavers, but the sparkle in his eyes gives you all the convincing you need. “you didn’t need to do all that.” you start, the familiar words rolling off your tongue easily. his smirk becomes a smile. “yeah, well, i did. what about it?”

it’s an unspoken truth that the both of you know. he holds out his hand, and you place your smaller one on top—he inches it closer to his lips, and kisses each knuckle.

he’s all yours.

“you took a long ass time trying to confess. and you didn’t even do it sober.” you call out, and kenji cringes at his own cowardice but he defends himself anyway. “hey! i re-confessed now!”

“re-confess? what?” “i just redid my confession.” “more like re-use—“ “can i kiss you now?”

the question is so sudden, you place your free hand on your chest as you gasp. kenji cringes, again, at how direct he was—he opens his mouth to apologize, but he barely gets a word in.

when your lips find eachother, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

#kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #ultraman 2024 #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman kenji sato

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