“I said I like this boy you brought today,” the boy in question being your new boyfriend, Rin Itoshi, who you’ve met on the first days of your second year of high school and instantly fell in love with. You two are in the same class for mathematics, sat not so far away from one another, you used to catch yourself staring at him more often than you’d like to admit. You remember how Rin had his eyes glued on the window majority of the time and the way the sun rays reflected off his turquoise irises was the most beautiful thing you’ve seen, hypnotizing like the image made by a kaleidoscope, you could almost get lost in them.
After secretly harbouring a crush on him for months, you finally got the courage to confess to him at the end of your second year, because if he decided to reject you, at least there was a chance you wouldn’t be in the same class the next year and then you could avoid the embarrassment of bumping into him.
Turns out he liked you back.
So here you are, at your parents house. It’s the first time Rin is here and he has never said a single word to any of them before this.
At the start of the night, you were nervous of what they were going to think of him. You see, your boyfriend is not always the most…expressive or easy to talk to person in the room. He has a tendency to be quite blunt or dry when speaking. He doesn’t mean any harm when he does that — at least you like to believe he doesn’t — He just expresses his emotions differently and that’s fine.
However, you were still scared of what your parents could’ve said when they saw him walk into their house.
Yes, Rin is nice and polished all the time, but that look in his face of a person who doesn’t seem to have many friends and the thought of something coming out of his mouth that could potentially change your parents' whole perspective of this boy you like to rave about so much made you slightly hesitant about tonight.
But just your luck, Rin was absolutely perfect it seems. So perfect that he gained your mother’s approval.
“You like him?” you ask, while helping her dry the dishes she’s washing.
“Yes, He seems like a good boy. Respectful, came with gifts and everything,” she hands you another dish. “Plus, he’s tall. You like that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, he is…” you catch yourself smiling at her comment. You’ll never admit it out loud, but you do love the difference in height between the two of you. Even though it’s not extreme, it still does something to you. “I like him for more than that though.”
“I know you do, dear,” she finished washing up and is now drying her hands with one of the towels. “I’m so happy you’ve found yourself a nice boy. I can’t believe my [N/N] is dating someone already…you’re really growing up fast.”
“You’re making it sound like it is a big deal…”
“It is a big deal dear,” she’s putting her wedding ring back on, the one your father gave to her all those years back. The silly teenager-in-love part of you is wondering if, one day, you’ll get to wear one for that long too — preferably one Rin has given to you. “My baby brings a boy home for the first time and you expect me not to make it a big deal?”
“Hah, yeah. I guess you have a point.” Rin walks into the kitchen, hands in his pocket and looking like he’s feeling so out of place.
“I finished cleaning up the dining room. Something else you’d like me to do?”
“No, you’re good, you can wait in the living room for me. Thank you Rinnie.” He walks out again, a slight redness present in his face because he has yet to become used to that nickname you insist on using all the time.
“Y’know,” your mother starts talking once his footsteps are heard far enough, “I think your dad likes him too.”
“You think?”
“Yes, did you see how much they were talking earlier?” you did, and you were surprised, because neither of them are very talkative people. “You got yourself a real charmer dear.”
Hearing the word “charmer” being used to describe Rin almost makes you laugh. He’s a lot of things, yet charming isn’t one many would use to describe him. But it doesn't matter, what matters is that he’s that to you and to your parents too apparently.
And you’re so glad to know Rin has both your parents’ blessing when it comes to you.
an — i haven't written anything for rin in a while but this draft has been in my google docs for a minute so here you go! some sappy teen romance w rin itoshi from me to you <3
vivien hugo x reader / warnings : hugo is a YAPPER, hugo is blunt asf, hugo is cute, reader is lowk kinda mean to him 🙁, reader likes chiikawa, reader had a tough time making friends, reader doesn't do well under pressure, ignore the time it doesnt matter
synopsis : hugo saw his future wife during his shift as a pizza delivery guy ... hes down bad asf ...
i've seen everyone mocking him for reading them blank books but his favourite colour being "destiny bordeaux" is what's actually wrong with him wtf is that Hugo
also what way round is his name... i think both Vivian and Hugo can be both first names and surnames...
Hugo is the youngest, SUPPOSEDLY if I'm understanding this right, and trust I will be making a fic just to highlight that, because I find it so funny when I think about how he acts in game. Yes. It makes sense that he's the youngest.
Oh holy hell he started at 2?? My ass was stumbling at walking when I was 2💔
But it's such a cute thought lowkey, will be writing bout baby Hugo playing football while still in diapers.
Content Warning (?) *Content may be uncomfortable for some people, but is suitable for work: Married life, Reader is pregnant
Credits: This is heavily inspired by a video made by JeenieWeenie on tiktok
It was a peaceful day in the Nagi household.
Or at least, it should’ve been.
The sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room where you were comfortably sprawled on the couch, one hand absentmindedly resting on your growing baby bump. The quiet hum of domestic life should have been soothing—calm, soft, perfect.
Instead, it was interrupted by the distinct sound of grumbling coming from the kitchen.
“What a hassle…” Seishiro muttered under his breath, the faint clinking of dishes accompanying his complaints.
You didn’t even need to look to know exactly what expression he was wearing—a pout, brows slightly furrowed, movements sluggish and dramatically burdened, as if washing a single plate required the energy of running a marathon.
Typical.
You smiled to yourself but stayed silent, pretending to be fully immersed in whatever you were watching.
Meanwhile, your husband—your very dramatic, chronically unmotivated husband—continued his one-sided battle against the dishes.
A pause.
Then another sigh. Louder this time.
Then, finally—
“Babe!” he called out, voice echoing through the house as he turned off the tap. “Did you realize I’ve been doing the dishes all by myself for two months straight?!”
You blinked.
Slowly, deliberately, you turned your head to look at him.
There he stood in the kitchen doorway, dish towel slung over his shoulder, damp hands on his hips, silver hair slightly messy, and a full-on pout decorating his face like he was the victim of some great injustice.
And for a brief second—just a brief second—you were tempted to laugh.
Instead, you simply raised a brow.
“…Oh?”
Your hand instinctively moved over your stomach, gently cradling the unmistakable curve of your baby bump—second trimester, very visible, very real.
Seishiro followed your gaze.
And froze.
There was a very noticeable pause.
A complete system shutdown.
You could practically hear the gears in his brain grinding to a halt as his eyes flicked from your face… to your stomach… and then back again.
“…Ah.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
“Aaaand I will continue to do so for the rest of my life!” he backtracked instantly, voice suddenly much louder, much faster, as if trying to outrun his previous statement.
You stared at him.
Then burst into laughter.
“Seishiro,” you managed between giggles, “did you forget?”
He frowned, trudging over to you like a sulking cat before dropping onto the couch beside you—well, more like half on you, because personal space had never really been his thing.
“You didn’t say anything,” he mumbled, already resting his head on your shoulder. “I thought it was just… a long streak.”
“A long streak?” you echoed, amused. “Of me being lazy?”
“…Yeah.”
You lightly smacked his arm.
“Ow. Babe,” he complained, though there was no real pain in his voice—just that same soft, clingy tone he only ever used with you.
You huffed, but your fingers were already threading through his hair, gently smoothing it down.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Mhm,” he hummed, completely unbothered, shifting slightly so his hand could rest over yours—right on your stomach.
There was a quiet moment.
A soft one.
His thumb moved absentmindedly, tracing small circles over the fabric covering your bump, his usual laziness melting into something quieter… something warmer.
“…Worth it, though,” he murmured.
You blinked. “Hm?”
“The dishes,” he clarified, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you. “If it means you don’t have to do anything… it’s fine.”
Your chest tightened.
“Besides,” he added after a beat, lips curling into a small, sleepy smile, “you’re already doing the hard part.”
You felt your face soften.
“…Flattery won’t get you out of chores, you know.”
“Not trying to,” he yawned, already sinking deeper into you. “I’ve accepted my fate.”
You snorted.
“Good.”
There was a pause.
“…But,” he added lazily, eyes drifting shut, “when the baby’s old enough… I’m teaching them how to do the dishes.”
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ content + warnings : timeskip! au, domestic fluff, fem! reader | ft. isagi, bachira, rin, sae, nagi, reo, kunigami
𓏲ּ𝄢 author note .ᐟ hi everyone >.< this is my first writing piece on here but i hope i met all your standards. sorry if it's kinda short! i comtemplated on adding some suggestive themes in here but i decided to keep it all cutesy.. soo for my next one i might add some smut. keep in tune! also idk if i like this layout..
ISAGI YOICHI ─ life with him feels steady, intentional, chosen.
he’s the type of husband who overthinks everything — including how to make you happiest
there's one specific night where you wake up at 2am and he's not in bed. you shuffle to the living room only to find him at the table, notebook open and scribbling.
"isagi..?"
he looks startled then sheepish.
"i was just.. planing something."
it's a colour-coded schedule for your anniversary week. reservations, gift ideas, backup plans in case it rains.
you laugh and he turns red.
he didn't want to mess it up.
he always pulls you closer unconsciously when you're walking together, especially in crowded places (i imagine his strategist brain calculating potential obstacles lol)
after matches, no matter how exhausted he is, he looks for you first in the stands. every single time
kisses your forehead when he's deep in thought. most of the time he doesn't even realise he's doing it
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
BACHIRA MEGURU ─ life with him feels colorful, unpredictable, alive.
your house is never quiet
he cooks with music blasting, dancing around the kitchen, pulling you in mid-chorus even if you're holding a knife
one time you're stressed, sitting on the floor surrounded by papers. he crouches in front of you, tilts his head, and gently bumps his forehead against yours.
"monster says you need a break."
then he drags you outside at 10pm to look at the stars like it's the most urgent thing in the world.
he traces random shapes on your palm while talking. it's basically habitual now
calls you weirdly specific pet names like "my favourite human" or "tiny cupcake"
when he smiles at you ─ that bright, childlike grin ─ it's softer than how he smiles at anyone else
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
ITOSHI RIN ─ life with him feels intense. private. deeply rooted.
married life with rin is quiet but not cold
he wakes up earlier than you but stays in bed
you don't know this until one morning you pretend to be asleep. he brushes your hair away from your face and just.. looks at you.
he doesn't say "i love you" often. instead he fixes things before you even notice they're broken
one evening you're arguing ─ not yelling, just tense. you start to walk away and he grabs your wrist, not hard, but just enough to stop you.
"don't leave when we're not finished."
it wasn't controlling, but desperate almost. he needs resolution.
he rests his chin on your head when you're sitting together. a subtle form of possession
the only time he smirks is when you're flustered
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
ITOSHI SAE ─ life with him feels secure, powerful, chosen.
he pretends he's unaffected by marriage, but he's definitely lying
public affection is minimal yet somehow his hand is always on small of your back. guiding and grounding
once, at a formal event, someone flirts with you. sae doesn't say a word.
just wraps his arm around your waist and presses a slow kiss to your temple. it was territorial, silent and obviously effective.
at home though? he sits behind you on the couch, long legs caging you in, chin on your shoulder while you scroll through your phone
"you're cute when you're focused."
buys you expensive things but acts like it's no big deal (because it really isn't for him)
the only time he laughs freely is when you say something ridiculous without even meaning to
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
NAGI SEISHIRO ─ life with him feels soft, warm, effortless.
he absolutely tried to skip the wedding planning
"sounds like a hassle.."
but the second you looked overwhelmed, he sighed and took over the vendor calls.
he's clingy, but lazily
you'll be cooking and suddenly there's a weight on your back. it's magi draped over you like a blanket.
"don't move. comfy."
he falls asleep on you constantly
once you tell him you're feeling insecure. he blinks at you slowly, then pulls your face closer.
"why? you married me. you already won."
deadpan and completely serious.
texts you "u alive?" when you haven't replied in 20 minutes
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
MIKAGE REO ─ life with him feels luxurious, devoted, intentional.
being married to reo means never having to worry about anything
he remembers everything. every anniversary, every tiny preference
you once casually mentioned liking a specific brand of perfume.
it's waiting on your vanity two days later.
he loves showing you off, but never in a way that feels objectifying. more like pride
he comes home late from practice one night and sees you asleep on the couch, waiting for him.
he kneels down and brushes your hair back while whispering:
"don't wait up next time.. i'll always come home to you."
he absolutely spoils you. unapologetically
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
KUNIGAMI RENSUKE ─ life with him feels safe, steady, strong.
domestic kunigami is criminally underrated idc
he cooks, like actually cooks. balanced meals, protein counted and all that
you're sitting on the counter while he chops vegetables, sleeves rolled up and forearms flexing.
he notices you staring.
"what?"
you just smile. he looks down and blushes immediately.
he trains hard but alway makes time for you. discipline extends to love too
one night during a storm, the power goes out. you instinctively reach for him.
he wraps a jacket around your shoulders and lights candles without a word. (talk about protector energy lol).
he holds you like you're something precious which you undoubtedly are to him
requests/asks are open! also feel free to chat or message me.
Hey so I thought we as userbase should organize spontaneous blackout protest against shapes inc ads here. I thought Feb 26th would be a good date (so ppl has 72 hrs notice if they want to participate), we would log off for 24hrs to show tumblr we are not okay with that (and also for shapes to get less ad revenue for a day in a process lol). Tag would be 'anti shapes inc protest'
If you like the idea/want to participate, help spread the word by reblogging this ask. Thanks <3
I would happily comply with this, hopefully enough people participate for it to make an impact!
ragebaiting sae is the funniest thing in the world.
he doesn’t even realize you’re just messing with him.
‘sae,’ you’re sitting on the couch with him, your legs throw over his lap, you’re doomscrolling on social media and he’s rewatching some of his matches.
‘what.’ he doesn’t even so much as glance towards you, thinking you’re going to say some stupid shit anyways, which you totally are.
‘do you ever wish you were athletic?’ you ask him, face straight.
you see his expression twitch. ‘what do you mean.’ he says, voice stern. he can already feel the irritation bubbling inside him.
‘i said. do you wish-,’ ‘i know what you said.’ you’re trying not to laugh right now. he’s already getting fed up and it’s hilarious.
‘[name]. i play soccer for a fucking living. what do you mean ‘i wish i was athletic.’’ he turned towards you. his face showing no amusement at all.
‘i know, but—’ his attention was fully on you now, and oh boy was he pissed.
‘no buts. i get up at 6 am every single day to go practice, do a bunch of press interviews, go to the gym nearly every single day, and you’re asking me if i wish i was athletic? you’re also the one swooning over my muscles on the daily and asking for ‘bicep pics’ is this a stupid joke?’ his expression is dead serious. he’s not playing along, he’s genuinely pissed off.
you can’t hold in your laughter anymore, and burst out in a fit of laughter. your eyes watering from the intensity.
sae is so fucking confused why you’re laughing right now. is this another one of your stupid jokes?
‘sae! i didn’t— expect that- you’d, actually get this pissed!’ you half screamed through your fit of laughter. he runs a hand iver his face and sighs loudly.
he’s not even pissed anymore, just really disappointed in himself. his head is in his hands and elbows on his knees, really rethinking every life decision that got him to this point.
well it’s safe to say sae has been successfully ragebaited, and you’re definitely doing it again.
a/n: because i wrote that super angsty spider of tokyo chapter, i figured i would post something more… comforting ❤️🩹
synopsis: when you’re being mad at them for something small and then they say something so green-flag/healthy-communicator-coded that you just pull them by the shirt and kiss them and they melt.
you’re mad about something genuinely small. like he forgot to text you good luck before training. nothing earth-shattering, but it still sits heavy in your chest because you needed it that day.
you try to brush it off with a “it’s fine” that is very much not fine, and he notices it immediately. he always does. that stupid observant striker brain.
he doesn’t get defensive. doesn’t laugh it off. he just goes quiet, eyes soft, and says, “hey… can we talk about it? i don’t wanna accidentally hurt you again.”
AGAIN. not if. again. because he’s already taking accountability.
he listens. like really listens. nodding, asking questions, repeating what you said just to make sure he understood it right. no interruptions. no excuses.
then he goes, “i didn’t realize how important that was to you, but i do now. i’m sorry. next time, i’ll make sure you know i’m thinking about you.”
NEXT TIME. he said NEXT TIME.
your heart just caves in on itself. you grab his jersey, yank him down, and kiss him hard because how dare he be this emotionally competent.
he freezes for half a second before absolutely melting into it, hands shaky at your waist like he can’t believe he did something right enough to earn this.
afterwards he’s red, smiling all soft, whispering, “was that… okay?” like sir you just won boyfriend of the year.
itoshi rin
you’re mad because he brushed you off earlier with a flat “later” and later never came.
you’re snippy, arms crossed, clearly upset, and he notices… but doesn’t know how to start. classic rin.
after a long silence he finally mutters, “i know you’re mad. i just… don’t wanna say the wrong thing.”
you tell him why it hurt, expecting the usual blunt response.
instead, he exhales slowly and says, “i didn’t mean to make you feel unimportant. you’re not.”
short. simple. devastating.
then quieter, “i get tunnel vision. but that’s my problem, not yours. i’ll work on it.”
WORK ON IT. he said he’ll WORK ON IT.
you don’t even warn him. you grab the front of his hoodie and kiss him because if he keeps talking like that you might cry.
he stiffens, then relaxes completely, kissing you back like he’s grounding himself through you.
afterwards he rests his forehead against yours and mutters, “you still mad?”
not anymore. absolutely not.
itoshi sae
you’re mad because he teased you in front of someone else. harmless, but it hit a nerve.
you go quiet. sae notices instantly.
later, alone, he says, “i crossed a line, didn’t i?”
you admit it bothered you. you expect him to joke it off.
instead he sighs and goes, “thank you for telling me. i never wanna be someone who embarrasses you.”
he doesn’t argue intent. he focuses on impact.
“i’ll keep that between us next time. you deserve respect.”
RESPECT. oh that word does things to you.
you grab him by the collar and kiss him mid-sentence, cutting him off completely.
he’s surprised for exactly half a second before kissing you back, slow and controlled, one hand firm at your waist.
when you pull away he smirks a little and says, “that one on purpose?”
you just nod. he absolutely earned it.
nagi seishiro
you’re mad because he canceled plans last minute with a lazy “too tired.”
you’re sulking. he can tell, even if he pretends not to.
later he shuffles over, sits beside you, and says, “i messed up, didn’t i.”
you explain why it hurt.
he listens quietly, then leans his head on your shoulder and says, “i don’t always show it right, but spending time with you isn’t a chore. i should’ve said that.”
SHOULD’VE SAID THAT???
then softer, “i’ll try harder. you’re worth effort.”
effort. from nagi. that’s basically a love confession.
you grab his shirt and kiss him, long and warm, and he just sighs into it like he’s finally fully awake.
afterward he mumbles, “kinda glad i messed up.”
you tell him not to push it. he smiles anyway.
mikage reo
you’re mad because he kept trying to fix the problem instead of just listening.
you finally snap, “i don’t need solutions, reo. i need you.”
he freezes. then immediately softens.
“oh. okay. i’m sorry,” he says gently. “tell me everything. i’m here.”
he lets you vent. no interruptions. no advice. just nodding, holding your hands, fully present.
when you finish, he says, “thank you for telling me what you need. i really wanna be someone you feel safe with.”
SAFE. WITH HIM.
he promises to ask first next time: “do you want comfort or help?”
that’s it. that’s the line that breaks you.
you pull him in by his shirt and kiss him, and he laughs softly into it, kissing you back like he’s overflowing with affection.
afterward he hugs you tight and says, “see? communication. sexy, right?”
unfortunately, he’s correct.
bachira meguru
you’re mad because he wandered off mid-conversation earlier, distracted by something shiny, someone else, the voices in his head – who knows.
you try to laugh it off, but your tone is tight. he notices immediately.
instead of joking, he crouches in front of you, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “hey… that made you feel left behind, didn’t it?”
you blink. because yeah. that’s exactly it.
he doesn’t get offended. he just nods, eyes soft. “i never wanna make you feel like you’re not my favorite person in the room.”
FAVORITE PERSON. he said it so easily, too.
then he grins a little, gentler than usual. “sometimes my brain runs fast, but i wanna run back to you every time.”
that’s it. you grab the front of his shirt and kiss him, hard and sudden.
he laughs into it, surprised, hands flying to your waist as he melts instantly, kissing you back with that warm, playful affection that somehow still feels grounding.
when you pull away, he presses his forehead to yours and says, “see? tell me when i mess up. i like fixing things with you.”
shidou ryusei
you’re mad because he crossed a boundary with his teasing. not malicious, just… too far.
you call him out, voice firm. the room goes quiet.
for a split second you expect him to laugh.
instead, his grin fades. completely.
“oh,” he says slowly. “nah. that’s on me.”
he steps closer, serious in a way that makes your chest tighten. “i get loud. i get wild. but if i hurt you? that’s not fun. that’s not okay.”
then quieter, almost rough with honesty, “tell me where the line is. i’ll stay on the right side for you.”
YOU.
you don’t even think. you fist his shirt and pull him down into a kiss, sharp and full of heat.
he freezes for a heartbeat before absolutely losing it, kissing you back like he’s burning up, hands gripping you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
when you pull back, he laughs breathlessly. “damn… communication’s kinda hot.”
unfortunately, he’s right.
karasu tabito
you’re mad because he made a sarcastic comment that hit a little too close to an insecurity.
you shut down instead of snapping. he notices the shift immediately.
later, alone, he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “okay. i fucked up.”
you explain why it hurt.
he doesn’t deflect. doesn’t joke. just nods slowly.
“thanks for telling me,” he says. “i don’t ever wanna be someone who uses yer weak spots as ammo.”
AMMO. gosh.
then he adds, softer, “i like ya because of who ya are, not despite it.”
your heart does that stupid flutter thing.
you grab his jacket and kiss him, slow, but full of feeling.
he exhales into it, arms wrapping around you like he’s relieved, kissing you back with steady reassurance.
when you pull away, he murmurs, “keep calling me out. i can take it.”
kaiser michael
you’re mad because he dismissed your feelings earlier with a careless comment.
you confront him, calm, but hurt.
he goes quiet. dangerous quiet.
then he sighs, rubbing his temple. “i spoke without thinking.”
you raise a brow. that’s already unexpected.
“i don’t want to be right if it costs me you,” he continues, voice low and controlled. “your feelings matter more than my ego.”
MORE. THAN. HIS. EGO.
then almost reluctantly honest, “thank you for telling me instead of pulling away.”
you don’t survive that sentence.
you grab his shirt and kiss him, cutting off whatever he was about to say.
he stiffens in surprise, then melts completely, kissing you back like he’s starved for it, hand fisting gently in your clothes.
when you pull back, his forehead rests against yours. “… was that forgiveness?”
you nod. he smiles, soft and rare, like you unlocked something precious.
ness alexis
you’re mad because he got clingy in a moment where you needed space.
you snap a little. immediately regret it.
his expression falters, but instead of spiraling, he takes a breath.
“i’m sorry,” he says gently. “i should’ve asked what you needed instead of assuming.”
you explain you just needed a moment.
he nods, eyes earnest. “thank you for telling me. i never want my affection to feel like pressure.”
PRESSURE. gosh, he’s trying so hard.
then he adds, quietly, “i care about you. i wanna love you in a way that feels good.”
you grab his shirt and kiss him before he can overthink it.
he gasps softly, then melts into it, hands trembling as he kisses you back like it’s reassurance incarnate.
afterward he smiles, small and shy. “i’ll do better. promise.”
chigiri hyoma
you’re mad because he made a self-deprecating joke about his leg again, brushing it off like it didn’t matter.
it wasn’t about the joke. it was about how casually he put himself down.
you tell him it bothered you, voice tight, trying not to sound like you’re lecturing.
he goes quiet. really quiet.
then he says, “i’m sorry. i didn’t realize i was hurting you too when i talk about myself like that.”
you weren’t expecting that.
he looks at you, eyes serious, but gentle. “i don’t want you worrying about me. i want you to feel secure with me.”
SECURE.
then softer, “if it scares you, i’ll stop joking about it. i don’t need to be tough all the time.”
that’s it. you grab his jacket and kiss him, sudden and full of emotion.
he gasps quietly, then melts into it, hands warm at your waist like he’s grounding both of you.
when you pull back, he smiles that soft, real smile. “thanks for caring that much.”
barou shoei
you’re mad because he snapped at you earlier when he was stressed.
you call him out on it later, arms crossed, jaw set.
he looks ready to argue… then stops himself.
“i spoke to you poorly,” he says, stiff and controlled. “that was wrong.”
WRONG. full stop. no excuses.
he takes a breath. “my frustration is mine to handle. you don’t deserve to be the outlet.”
oh. oh wow.
then lower, more sincere, “you’re important to me. i won’t treat you like collateral damage.”
COLLATERAL DAMAGE??? sir???
you grab his shirt and kiss him before he can retreat behind his pride.
he freezes, then crumbles softly into the kiss, arms wrapping around you like he’s claiming and apologizing at the same time.
afterward he mutters, “don’t think this means i’ll be soft all the time.”
you smile. it already does.
yukimiya kenyu
you’re mad because he brushed off something that mattered to you with a distracted response.
you confront him, trying to stay calm.
he blinks, then immediately straightens. “okay. pause.”
he reaches for your hands, gentle. “tell me again. i wasn’t listening the way you deserved.”
you explain, slower this time.
he nods, eyes focused entirely on you. “thank you for repeating yourself. i don’t want you feeling ignored.”
then honest and a little vulnerable, “i miss things sometimes. but i never wanna miss you.”
MISS YOU???
your heart just caves in.
you pull him in by the collar and kiss him, soft, but desperate.
he sighs into it, kissing you back like relief, thumb brushing your cheek like he’s memorizing you.
when you pull away, he smiles warmly. “see? we’re good when we talk.”
hiori yo
you’re mad because he went quiet earlier. not angry quiet – gone quiet. the kind that leaves you wondering if you said something wrong.
you bring it up later, carefully, because you don’t want to pressure him. you just say it made you feel a little shut out.
his shoulders tense immediately. not defensive, but guilty.
“i’m sorry,” he says, soft and sincere. “i didn’t mean to disappear on ya.”
he sits closer, fingers twisting together. “when things get heavy in my head, my instinct is to withdraw. not because of ya. never because of ya.”
that part matters. a lot.
then he looks at you, eyes steady despite the vulnerability. “but i know that hurts ya. and i don’t want ya feeling like yer on the outside.”
you swallow.
“i’m trying to learn how to let people stay,” he admits. “especially ya.”
ESPECIALLY YOU.
you don’t say anything. you just grab the front of his hoodie and kiss him, slow and grounding.
he melts immediately, hands careful at your waist like he’s afraid of breaking the moment, kissing you back with quiet relief.
when you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours and murmurs, “thanks for being patient with me.”
your anger’s gone. completely.
iglesias bunny
you’re mad because he brushed past something you said earlier with a casual response. not dismissive. just… too quick. like he didn’t realize it mattered.
you don’t blow up. you just go quieter.
he notices immediately.
later, when it’s just the two of you, he says, “hey. you got quiet on me earlier.”
no accusation. just concern.
you explain why it hurt, expecting him to reassure you without really owning it.
instead, he nods slowly. “yeah… that one’s on me.”
he leans back, thoughtful. “i didn’t mean to rush you, but intention doesn’t change impact.”
IMPACT.
then he looks at you, steady and gentle. “what you say matters to me. if i miss it, i want you to call me on it.”
CALL HIM ON IT.
he reaches for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “i don’t want you feeling unheard with me. ever.”
that’s the moment your anger just dissolves.
you grab the front of his shirt and kiss him, sudden and full of emotion.
he lets out a soft laugh into the kiss, surprised, but melting instantly, arms wrapping around you like this is exactly where he wants to be.
when you pull back, his forehead rests against yours. “see?” he murmurs. “we’re good when we’re honest.”
Note: This is heavily inspired by @yayamrata's Hugo fic "fictional crush", I definitely suggest reading it, it's genuinely so yummy
Hugo had always believed in roles.
Not in dreams. Not in miracles. Not in “the power of believing in yourself.”
Those were inefficient illusions.
Football, to Hugo, was not romance — it was physics.
Every player had a natural vector: a position where their instincts, mind, and body aligned most efficiently. A defender who tried to become a striker was wasting probability. A striker who tried to become a playmaker was betraying their own destiny.
People who fought their role suffered.
People who accepted it won.
This was his Suitable Destiny Theory — the quiet gospel that had carried him to becoming one of the New Generation XI, a midfield general who ruled the pitch with icy logic and dead-eyed precision.
That same logic was why nobody noticed what he did when training ended.
Because Hugo was invisible when he wanted to be.
While others showered, argued, or played video games, Hugo sat on the bench — phone hidden beneath his towel, fingers scrolling with a reverence that no one would ever associate with him.
Not tactics.
Not data.
But her.
A manhwa heroine.
Beautiful. Bright-eyed. Sharp-tongued. Soft when she loved. Deadly when she had to be.
She was everything Hugo was not allowed to want.
He consumed her existence obsessively — fanart, x-readers, alternate universe scenarios, slow-burn romances, angsty one-shots that made his chest ache in a way he never analyzed.
In every universe, she chose someone.
And in every universe, Hugo imagined what it would be like if she chose him.
He never told anyone.
Not even Charles, who once caught him flinching when his phone buzzed.
“Hey, Hugo!”
Hugo had nearly dropped the device.
“What is it, Charles?” he’d replied, instantly calm, sliding the phone away like it never existed.
“What were you looking at? You jumped.”
“Nothing of importance,” Hugo said smoothly. “Isn’t Loki calling you for training?”
Charles pouted. “You’re no fun.”
And Hugo stayed unreadable.
Because desire was not in his destiny.
Until he saw you.
The stadium in Japan roared with life — Blue Lock’s reconstructed national team facing France, a match thick with ego, ambition, and hunger.
Hugo had come prepared to observe two targets.
Isagi Yoichi — the improbable striker who bent fate.
And Itoshi Rin — the ruthless one, burning with obsession.
But then…
His eyes lifted to the stands.
And everything fractured.
There you were.
Wearing a Blue Lock jersey — number 9 — Rin’s number.
Your hands were cupped around your mouth as you called out, voice bright and cutting through thousands of people.
“RIN!”
Hugo’s breath caught.
You weren’t similar.
You weren’t reminiscent.
You were identical.
Same eyes.
Same shape of smile.
Same effortless blend of warmth and sharpness.
Same dangerous softness.
It was like someone had torn his favorite character from fiction and dropped her into reality.
And you were real.
Too real.
Hugo didn’t hear the whistle.
Didn’t hear Charles.
Didn’t hear the crowd.
All he heard was you.
“Rin, you’ve got this!”
And when Rin glanced up, eyes narrowing just a fraction — and then softened, just barely — Hugo felt something in his chest collapse.
Because you weren’t just real.
You were taken.
Rin noticed him.
Of course he did.
Rin Itoshi noticed everything that mattered.
And the way Hugo’s gaze lingered on you was not subtle enough to escape him.
The ball was in play, but Rin’s eyes flicked to the stands — to you — and then to Hugo.
Cold.
Assessing.
Territorial.
Rin didn’t know what Hugo saw in you.
But he knew that Hugo was looking.
And Rin didn’t tolerate that.
Not when you were his.
Hugo tried to refocus.
He truly did.
But every time you moved, laughed, leaned forward — it pulled at him like gravity.
You were animated. Expressive. Real.
Not a fantasy.
Not a panel on a screen.
A woman who existed.
A woman who was cheering for another man.
And that man was Rin Itoshi.
The ball came to Hugo’s feet.
Automatically, flawlessly, he controlled the field — threading passes, cutting lanes, dictating tempo.
He was still a god in midfield.
But his mind was no longer untouched.
Because every logical system he had ever built did not account for one thing:
What if your destiny is already someone else’s?
Rin played viciously.
Too viciously.
Every time Hugo’s passes cut too clean, Rin crushed through defenders to answer.
Every time Hugo lifted his eyes — even accidentally — toward the stands, Rin scored harder.
Angrier.
Like he was trying to carve your name into the pitch.
And when he finally netted a brutal goal, Rin turned — not to the crowd.
But to Hugo.
Their eyes met.
Rin’s were burning.
Hugo’s were… hollow.
A silent exchange passed between them.
She’s mine.
Hugo looked away first.
After the match, Hugo found himself in the hallway outside the locker rooms.
He told himself he was just passing through.
That this was coincidence.
Then he heard your voice.
And he stopped.
You were there — laughing softly, holding Rin’s jacket, waiting for him.
Up close, you were even more devastating.
“Good game,” Hugo heard himself say before logic could stop him.
You turned.
Your eyes met his.
And the universe betrayed him.
You smiled.
“Thank you! You played amazing.”
Your voice was warm. Kind. Unaware of the war you had just started in his chest.
“I’m Hugo,” he said.
“I know,” you replied brightly. “New Gen XI, right? Rin talks about you.”
Hugo’s heart stuttered.
“He does?”
“Yeah. He says you’re… annoying.” You laughed. “Which I think is a compliment coming from him.”
Hugo didn’t smile.
Because Rin talked about him.
Which meant Rin noticed him.
Which meant Rin had already marked him.
Rin appeared then — tall, sharp-eyed, slipping an arm around your waist without even looking at Hugo.
Possessive.
“You done?” Rin asked you.
“Yeah.” You looked up at him, affectionate. “This is Hugo.”
“I know who he is,” Rin replied coldly.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the hallway felt like a battlefield.
“Nice meeting you,” you said kindly to Hugo.
“It was… mine,” Hugo replied softly.
But as you walked away with Rin — his hand never leaving you — Hugo realized something horrifying.
For the first time in his life…
He didn’t want to accept his role.
He didn’t want to accept that this — you with Rin — was the natural order.
He wanted to tear fate apart and rewrite it.
And that desire…
Was not suitable.
But it was real.
This took me too long cuz I had to update my wattpad books omg 😭😭
Note: This is heavily inspired by @yayamrata's Hugo fic "fictional crush", I definitely suggest reading it, it's genuinely so yummy
Hugo had always believed in roles.
Not in dreams. Not in miracles. Not in “the power of believing in yourself.”
Those were inefficient illusions.
Football, to Hugo, was not romance — it was physics.
Every player had a natural vector: a position where their instincts, mind, and body aligned most efficiently. A defender who tried to become a striker was wasting probability. A striker who tried to become a playmaker was betraying their own destiny.
People who fought their role suffered.
People who accepted it won.
This was his Suitable Destiny Theory — the quiet gospel that had carried him to becoming one of the New Generation XI, a midfield general who ruled the pitch with icy logic and dead-eyed precision.
That same logic was why nobody noticed what he did when training ended.
Because Hugo was invisible when he wanted to be.
While others showered, argued, or played video games, Hugo sat on the bench — phone hidden beneath his towel, fingers scrolling with a reverence that no one would ever associate with him.
Not tactics.
Not data.
But her.
A manhwa heroine.
Beautiful. Bright-eyed. Sharp-tongued. Soft when she loved. Deadly when she had to be.
She was everything Hugo was not allowed to want.
He consumed her existence obsessively — fanart, x-readers, alternate universe scenarios, slow-burn romances, angsty one-shots that made his chest ache in a way he never analyzed.
In every universe, she chose someone.
And in every universe, Hugo imagined what it would be like if she chose him.
He never told anyone.
Not even Charles, who once caught him flinching when his phone buzzed.
“Hey, Hugo!”
Hugo had nearly dropped the device.
“What is it, Charles?” he’d replied, instantly calm, sliding the phone away like it never existed.
“What were you looking at? You jumped.”
“Nothing of importance,” Hugo said smoothly. “Isn’t Loki calling you for training?”
Charles pouted. “You’re no fun.”
And Hugo stayed unreadable.
Because desire was not in his destiny.
Until he saw you.
The stadium in Japan roared with life — Blue Lock’s reconstructed national team facing France, a match thick with ego, ambition, and hunger.
Hugo had come prepared to observe two targets.
Isagi Yoichi — the improbable striker who bent fate.
And Itoshi Rin — the ruthless one, burning with obsession.
But then…
His eyes lifted to the stands.
And everything fractured.
There you were.
Wearing a Blue Lock jersey — number 9 — Rin’s number.
Your hands were cupped around your mouth as you called out, voice bright and cutting through thousands of people.
“RIN!”
Hugo’s breath caught.
You weren’t similar.
You weren’t reminiscent.
You were identical.
Same eyes.
Same shape of smile.
Same effortless blend of warmth and sharpness.
Same dangerous softness.
It was like someone had torn his favorite character from fiction and dropped her into reality.
And you were real.
Too real.
Hugo didn’t hear the whistle.
Didn’t hear Charles.
Didn’t hear the crowd.
All he heard was you.
“Rin, you’ve got this!”
And when Rin glanced up, eyes narrowing just a fraction — and then softened, just barely — Hugo felt something in his chest collapse.
Because you weren’t just real.
You were taken.
Rin noticed him.
Of course he did.
Rin Itoshi noticed everything that mattered.
And the way Hugo’s gaze lingered on you was not subtle enough to escape him.
The ball was in play, but Rin’s eyes flicked to the stands — to you — and then to Hugo.
Cold.
Assessing.
Territorial.
Rin didn’t know what Hugo saw in you.
But he knew that Hugo was looking.
And Rin didn’t tolerate that.
Not when you were his.
Hugo tried to refocus.
He truly did.
But every time you moved, laughed, leaned forward — it pulled at him like gravity.
You were animated. Expressive. Real.
Not a fantasy.
Not a panel on a screen.
A woman who existed.
A woman who was cheering for another man.
And that man was Rin Itoshi.
The ball came to Hugo’s feet.
Automatically, flawlessly, he controlled the field — threading passes, cutting lanes, dictating tempo.
He was still a god in midfield.
But his mind was no longer untouched.
Because every logical system he had ever built did not account for one thing:
What if your destiny is already someone else’s?
Rin played viciously.
Too viciously.
Every time Hugo’s passes cut too clean, Rin crushed through defenders to answer.
Every time Hugo lifted his eyes — even accidentally — toward the stands, Rin scored harder.
Angrier.
Like he was trying to carve your name into the pitch.
And when he finally netted a brutal goal, Rin turned — not to the crowd.
But to Hugo.
Their eyes met.
Rin’s were burning.
Hugo’s were… hollow.
A silent exchange passed between them.
She’s mine.
Hugo looked away first.
After the match, Hugo found himself in the hallway outside the locker rooms.
He told himself he was just passing through.
That this was coincidence.
Then he heard your voice.
And he stopped.
You were there — laughing softly, holding Rin’s jacket, waiting for him.
Up close, you were even more devastating.
“Good game,” Hugo heard himself say before logic could stop him.
You turned.
Your eyes met his.
And the universe betrayed him.
You smiled.
“Thank you! You played amazing.”
Your voice was warm. Kind. Unaware of the war you had just started in his chest.
“I’m Hugo,” he said.
“I know,” you replied brightly. “New Gen XI, right? Rin talks about you.”
Hugo’s heart stuttered.
“He does?”
“Yeah. He says you’re… annoying.” You laughed. “Which I think is a compliment coming from him.”
Hugo didn’t smile.
Because Rin talked about him.
Which meant Rin noticed him.
Which meant Rin had already marked him.
Rin appeared then — tall, sharp-eyed, slipping an arm around your waist without even looking at Hugo.
Possessive.
“You done?” Rin asked you.
“Yeah.” You looked up at him, affectionate. “This is Hugo.”
“I know who he is,” Rin replied coldly.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the hallway felt like a battlefield.
“Nice meeting you,” you said kindly to Hugo.
“It was… mine,” Hugo replied softly.
But as you walked away with Rin — his hand never leaving you — Hugo realized something horrifying.
For the first time in his life…
He didn’t want to accept his role.
He didn’t want to accept that this — you with Rin — was the natural order.
He wanted to tear fate apart and rewrite it.
And that desire…
Was not suitable.
But it was real.
This took me too long cuz I had to update my wattpad books omg 😭😭
