“ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ { ɪɪ }
☆ Warnings: profanity, sports!photographer!reader, fem!reader, afab!reader, social media au/smau, texting, profanity, pretty unserious tbh
☆ 1.3k words | Available on: Tumblr, AO3
Seeing the notification pop up in your dms was certainly a strange, albeit pleasant surprised.
It was from his account. Your fingers shook as you tapped the screen, opening the chat.
Hey, is this [name]? I just wanted to apologize again for breaking your camera.
You stared at it, unsure how to respond.
For one, you had no social skills, and, secondly, this was the guy who was not only a massively famous and successful athlete but also a rando you’d been taking pictures of since school. You wondered if he’d scrolled down on your account to see the numerous images of him posted from your college days.
Its fine, you replied nonchalantly.
On the other side of the screen, Kenji was going feral. “Fuck, Mina, she seems pissed.”
Mina simply stared at him (well, not stared but you know.) and he rolled his eyes at her lack of response, turning back to his phone.
Well, I’m more than willing to replace the stuff for you, he typed out quickly.
Your phone pinged. You frowned at the text.
If you want ig.
Oh? My god? Who the fuck replies like that?
While you were stressing out over your disgustingly dry, and even rude reply, Kenji was falling off his couch at seeing your message on screen. He cursed, elbow twisting awkwardly as he hit the floor, but he ignored it, holding the phone up. “She hates me, Mina.”
Mina glided through the air to hover over his face. “You’ll be fine, Ken,” she said. “Perhaps you could even befriend her. You said she went to your college.”
“Are you even listening to a word I said?! She hates me.”
His phone pinged and he stared at your second message.
Sorry, I meant only if it’s not a hassle for you.
Relief surged through him. it’s definitely not a hassle!
Well then in that case I don’t mind.
Within a couple of days you found new equipment waiting on your doorstep. You weren’t complaining- and it was an expensive model, too. Higher quality than the one you’d had before.
Taika nudged you knowingly. “The Ken Sato got you that?”
“The Ken Sato was the one who broke it in the first place,” you grumbled in retribution, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t retort any further.
“Text him to tell him you got it.”
“What?”
“Come on!” She shoved your phone into your hands, and your face burned. “Look, stop trying to deny you have the hots for him and just-“
“Okay!” exasperated, you lifted a hand. “I’ll do it.”
Hey just texting to let you know the stuff arrived btw, you sent.
You certainly hadn’t expected a reply only moments later.
cool! There’s nothing wrong with it, right?
“Isn’t he, like, a famous baseball star?” You muttered as you typed out a reply. “Isn’t he supposed to be busy?”
Taika wiggled her eyebrows. “Well, I wonder what that means for you if he’s replying so quickly then!” She squealed, and you smacked her away by the shoulder.
Nope it’s great. It’s even better than the equipment I used before actually
Three dots appeared on your screen to indicate he was typing. And then:
Yeah haha now you can take even better pictures of me, right? Judging by your earlier posts you seem to be a pretty big fan.
You froze.
Taika froze.
On the other side of the screen, on his couch, Kenji froze.
“Was that too forward?” He muttered to himself. “Oh dammit, I was trying to make a joke.”
“Oh my god, I’m so fucked,” you said to Taika, pacing the room. “He saw the pictures.”
She clicked her tongue. “They were kinda sorta public for anyone to see. You’d basically showcased your entire crush on that account.”
“He’s gonna think I’m a psycho, or a stalker or something!”
“I bet he thinks you’re adorable.”
You stopped and turned and glared at her. She flicked her head at the device clutched in your hands.
“Text him back, [name].”
With shaking hands, you did.
Is it obvious lmao? In that case I guess so.
Typing…
His reply lit up your screen.
Can’t wait to see what picture of me you post next ;)
-
You were feeling bold. You were feeling frisky. Perhaps a little… daring.
The next day, you decided to upload the final pictures the online magazine you were photographing for had chosen onto your instagram account.
And, of course, you picked the one of Kenji as the first one.
Not long after your conversation the other day, you’d seen that he’d decided to follow you back. You wondered what that meant, its implications, but brushed it off for fear of overthinking.
You captioned the post “These were the chosen pictures for XY Sports Magazine! Glad to have played a role in blah blah blah blah blah blah Kenji please text me again blah blah.”
And then you threw your phone down onto the couch, and waited.
-
Kenji almost spat his drink out when he saw your very next post, the day after your conversation, and also to see that he was the first picture.
What even is this? Flirting? Banter? What the fuck? I’m into it?
He debated between leaving a comment or a direct message, but settled for comment. It was flashier that way. According to him.
“Glad to see I’m your muse,” he typed, and waited for you to see it. His heart was in his throat.
-
Of course you saw it.
And you had no idea what to reply to it.
So you simply liked it, pinned it, and hoped that it spoke enough words that you were too flustered to type.
-
This turned into a regular thing. He’d text you, you’d post him every time you were hired at a game he played at, he’d comment, people in the replies would go feral at his appearance in your comment sections, and then you’d text him. If he ever saw you at a game, on the sidelines of the pitch- not in the stands- he’d wink at you, and fuck that bastard knows my camera’s gonna end up pointed at him for most of the game, doesn’t he?
You wouldn’t call it a friendship that you two had- you genuinely had no idea what the fuck it was, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining.
You were lazing around in your bed- it was barely even morning, and you had an off day yet your son of a bitch that you called an internal clock had woken you up at six, when your phone pinged. You picked it up.
Kenji: hey can I have your actual number this time?
Kenji: beats dming you here
You: sure it’s (xxx-xxx-xxx)
Kenji: thanks.
You stared into space.
Okay, maybe this… relationship between your two needed a label put onto it. You stared back at the screen.
It probably wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
