I'm Mei, I write whatever comes to mind with no rhyme or reason.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
‼️Things to keep in mind‼️
I don’t accept requests in any shape or form unfortunately
I’m uncomfortable with minors interacting with certain posts due to their explicit nature
That being said, I do dabble in dark content so be aware of that
I will try to respond to every ask and dm as long as it complies with the first two points, however sometimes I may find it hard to think of an answer, so it may take some time
When your son keeps a certain photoshoot a secret, you think nothing of it until it seems like everyone at work is in the know except for you. At least, you'll get some peace at home, right?
Note: pseudocest, partial nudity and full nudity, dubcon, maybe foreplay (??), bunny still calls reader mama
Masterlist
"I have a surprise for you."
Bunny smiles at you from across the dining table, a warm cup of tea and a bowl of discarded orange peels between the two of you.
A lingering coldness still clings to your furniture as delicate rays of dawn-light seep through your windows to fill the small kitchen. Your son's eyes only seem to glimmer, an amusement flittering amidst the deep red. You wrap your fingers around the mug's handle as you raise it to your mouth.
"Am I going to finally see the results of this mysterious photo shoot?" The corners of your lips curl behind the cup, a soft breath of mirth escapes.
His eyes crinkle, his smile more affectionate as he hums, "Mhm, I think you'll like it."
Now stained with the print of your lipstick, just as you place the cup back down, he drinks from it as well. A soft flush of the colour now spread across his lips.
You have little expectation of what these photos could possibly look like, you don't even know what it was for. In an odd sense of mystery, your son showed you little, sending you nothing but the image of him in a makeup chair. You weren't too miffed about it but with how secretive he's been acting, you couldn't help but be a little more than curious.
"Well I'm expecting nothing less than— oh what's his name? That player from France who did the advertisement we saw?" Wondering to yourself, you wrack your brain trying to figure out who exactly it is you're referring to. All you remember about him was the rather smart outfit they put him in, and the tasteful peek of the brief's waistband. Unable to put a name to a face, you simply sigh, "He's rather pretty, that boy."
His eyes widen for just a moment before he smiles. "I didn't know you like pretty boys so much."
"Well, I have eyes and I can appreciate beauty when I see it." With an incredulous laugh bubbling in your throat, you notice the minute shift in his eyes the moment you look at him. Perhaps to anyone else, it would be near unnoticeable, but you've had Bunny for more than a decade by now. Reaching out to him, you cup his face in your palm. "And I'm sure yours will be just as good, if not even better."
"After all, my cariño is the most handsome."
Upon hearing this, he presses against your touch, a humoured smile on his lips as he murmurs, "Only for you, mama."
Eventually, the time comes for the both of you to leave, him for football practice and you for work. Standing by the doorway as you go through a mental rundown of everything in your work bag, your son's hands ghost along your shoulders, his fingers carefully tucking the slipped baby pink strap of your bra beneath your clothes.
When he finishes, he leans down, careful that his bag doesn't bump into you as you press the customary kisses to his cheeks. The moment you finish, he brings you into a loose side-hug, leaning his head against yours and wrapping an arm around your hip as you helplessly laugh.
"Have fun at practice, okay? I'll tell you how I feel about the cover when I see it." You pat his back, the feeling of his own kiss to the top of your head coaxing a mirthful breath from your lips.
As the morning came and went, the amount of people who passed by your desk giggling and taking not-so subtle peeks began to worry you. One of your junior staff even spaced out while you were reviewing their work, staring at the photo on your desk of you and Bunny for a bit too long with a complicated look.
It isn't until one of your other colleagues approached you with something behind her back that you realise something is up.
With a roguish smile on her lips, Laia saunters up to your desk as she sings, "Mrs. Iglesias, do you have a moment?"
"Not my surname and not married, but yes, is something wrong?" Helplessly, you can only shake your head as you save your work.
"Asking for a friend, but you don't have magazine subscriptions, right?"
"No, should I have one?"
The smile on her face widens before she whips out the mysterious item from behind her. "No, just thought you would want to see this."
Unfortunately for her and fortunately for you, she misjudged her grip and all you're greeted with is the laminated image of a woman in a skimpy swimsuit. The headlines are all something about 'the modern woman's whims' or whatever new skincare trend is running around now. Nothing that, Laia who should know better, you're particularly interested in seeing right now.
Your brow raises in indifference as you slap a file over the scandalous image, your voice deadpan, "Do I look like a lonely woman? Also, its against company policy to be viewing… this kind of material during working hours."
"Its a lifestyle magazine," She insists, pushing the file off.
"For who exactly? And who still reads magazines?"
Fed up with your disinterest, she flips the magazine to the front cover and you are greeted with a sight that no amount of mantras can wipe from your brain.
Across the cover, baby pink ribbons wrap around Bunny's naked torso, muscles straining against the satin. Under the warm, almost too intimate lighting, you can see the veins in his arms and each and every scar that decorates his form. His wrists have been tied together in a neat bow, and yet what draws your eye is not his form but rather his expression. Red lips just slightly ajar, a soft flush spread across his cheeks, those eyes of his feel like they're boring into you, begging you to untie him.
That look isn't unfamiliar to you, and perhaps that is what rattles you most, that you have seen him stare at you with such ache before. In the early mornings watching you as you stir from slumber, in the sweltering afternoons when you're in the kitchen fixing yourself tea and he holds you from behind, in the late hours when he brings you closer by the waist as you walk home from dinner.
Unconsciously, your thighs squeeze together, an odd warmth filling every part of you despite the fans. That weak heart of yours feel as if it is the one wrapped in those ribbons, straining against its restraints as this abashment, this unknowable feeling only seems to well inside it.
"What have you been feeding him? I don't remember Bunny being this big."
Placing her hands on her chest, Laia's voice snaps you out of your trance as she all but swoons,"It felt like so long ago since he was the feral kid under your desk clinging to your legs."
"Keep it in your pants," Your features scrunch together into some approximation of disgust and bewilderment, you hastily reach over to flip the magazine face down. "That's my son you're ogling. And he wasn't feral, he was just nervous."
Your coworker just snorts, flipping the magazine back over so you're forced to see Bunny's love-struck expression once more. "Yeah and your son is built like some lonely housewife's fantasy."
"Please do not say that, you cougar."
Despite your attempts, she only ignores you as she pushes the laminated magazine towards you. "Come on, your son is a very attractive boy, its normal for people to look at him."
"I'm well aware of that, but I'm not keen on a daughter in law who's a year younger than me." With a heavy sigh, the feeling of headache builds in the back of your eyes and you must force yourself to close your eyes, whether for fear of your headache manifesting or for seeing him you do not know.
"Aww, have some heart! Your Bunny is only getting older." As she steps back, she sends you a mischievous wink before mock-whispering behind her hand, "I'm going to leave this for you, you know, in case you want to have a proper look at it later."
Staring at the magazine on your desk, it doesn't take you long before you're hurriedly shoving the magazine into your work bag, your hands pushing it in with little to no care before you catch another glimpse of Bunny's face. Your heart squeezed, shame and affection all the same gripping your tender organ, and you carefully straightened it out, ensuring it wouldn't be wrinkled.
For what feels like the rest of the work day, you spent it in your office pointedly ignoring the staring and the hushed conversation outside, and trying to actually get some work done only to be mentally plagued with that image. You couldn't even bring yourself to text him about the cover, every time you tried, you'd type out something only to delete it before you could send it.
At some point, one of your junior staff even mustered the guts to approach you.
"Hey, quick question. Barcha's got a match this weekend, your son will be playing right?"
All you could do was blink, a helpless sigh falling from your lips as you turned the photo frame on your desk away. "I don't believe in parents matchmaking for their children."
She laughs, the sound awkward and a little strained, clearly not expecting you to read through her intentions, "Got it, worth a shot though, right?"
You didn't laugh. You couldn't. She left without even dropping off the files you needed.
It was the moment that you returned home— your train ride back filled with nothing more than your pounding heart and growing shame— that the simmering emotion within you overspilled. And yet in the safety of your bedroom, Bunny is already by the door, leaving you with no buffer to process your emotions.
"Mama, you're back," His voice is gentle, pleasant as if unaware of the predicament you're going through. In a few quick steps, he arrives by your side to crowd you to the very foot of your bed. Belatedly, you notice that he's in nothing but a pair of pants, hair still a little wet from the shower.
Left in nothing but your undergarments, you can only squeak in surprise. It is now, when there is but a finger tip's gap of space between your forms, that his voice drops to a too intimate whisper, "Did you like it? "
In an instant, he brings you into his arms, one hand settled onto your hips as the other plays with your bra strap. You don't answer, knees suddenly barely strong enough as you weakly place a hand on his chest. The air in the small room settles on your skin, cold droplets falling onto your sensitive form, coaxing sharp goosebumps to the surface.
Your son only smiles, amusement and affection dancing in those red eyes. Cocking his head, he hums in anticipation for your response.
"….you were very—" You swallow, averting your gaze in a poor attempt to put him out of mind. Despite the knot in your heart and the dead words on your tongue, you force yourself to continue, "—very handsome. My coworkers were very impressed."
He laughs, the sound gentle in your ears, "I don't care what your coworkers think."
"Did you like it?"
"Bunny, you—?" All too suddenly, you're laid down onto your bed, form sprawled across the thin blankets as he crawls atop of you. Beneath the warm lighting of your room, it surrounds his form and leaves you with nothing but the sight of him. And it is within his eyes that you see yourself, nothing but yourself.
"Its alright, you don't have to answer me." He leans in and you close your eyes, too scared to look. Yet you don't shrink away, you don't know why you can't. What you fear most and anticipate does not come, the sensation of his fanned breath and murmured words only seem to worsen this heat inside you. There's a mirth to his voice, and beneath lowered lashes, he presses a lingering kiss to your chest as he smiles against the tender skin, "After all, who else knows you better than your own son?"
The pads of his fingers along your skin only snap your already taut nerves, hands trace along the curves of your shoulders as he slips your already loose bra off. Now exposed to the night wind and his gaze, you can't hide the shiver that runs through your body nor the strangled noise that falls from your lips as he lays another kiss to your heart. Gently, he runs his hands down all the while pressing open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your chest, not once does he take his eyes off of you.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you when we were taking the photos, could you tell?" He croons, your trembling breaths coax nothing more than a soft breath of humour from him, one that makes you tense further.
Weakly, you can only attempt to push him away, wriggling in his grasp only for him to steady you by your hips. Your voice wavers, the warmth of his large hands gripping onto you only making it worse, "D-don't do that, we shouldn't—"
As you reach out to stop him, he merely take you by the wrist and brings it to his throat, pressing it against the flushed skin so that you can feel every minute shift.
"We can recreate it here, you can tie one around my neck and pull on it when you want me." Voice low, he has you drag your hand downwards, letting your nails scratch along his pale skin until it eventually rests atop his heart. His heart thrums beneath your touch, his ache through his own veins and into yours.
Your adopted son has always been the clingy type, though maybe it isn't out of innocent affection but something else that has been festering since the very start - a series of miscellaneous moments with your son, Bunny
Note: Pseudocest, so much pseudocest
Y Si Me Quedas Tú
Your son's a good kid, he's just worried about the intentions of others, you never know what other people might be thinking!
De Los Caprichos de Tu Corazón
Despite all your years in Barcelona, you've yet to pick up Catalan. After a long week at work and a particularly exhilarating match, your son wakes up awfully intent on showing off his clear mastery over the language.
Regálame Tu Corazón
[18+] When your son keeps a certain photoshoot a secret, you think nothing of it until it seems like everyone at work is in the know except for you. At least, you'll get some peace at home, right?
Despite all your years in Barcelona, you've yet to pick up Catalan. After a long week at work and a particularly exhilarating match, your son wakes up awfully intent on showing off his clear mastery over the language.
//had a crazy realistic dream with godwin from the u20 nigerian team while writing this, woke up feeling like i lost my wife
Thin panes of sunlight filter through the lacy curtains of your bedroom, your nextdoor neighbour is drying their clothes— yelling at their husband to bring over the basket, and the gentle scent of dried lemons waft through your home.
Stretching your sleep-sore form, your legs push against your thin blanket as a soft noise of satisfaction falls from your lips. You're a bit more achy today, your hip joints throbbing with a dull ache. Between your legs, a slick seems to have soaked through your panties, your thighs coated in a sticky sheen.
Blearily, you roll over to reach out for your phone, lighting up with a selfie of your son miserably standing atop the roof of La Pedrera and a 09.03 across your dim screen. You don't even remember when you fell asleep last night, just that you had managed to get out of your clothes before crashing onto the bed, your mind nothing but a haze of tangled sheets and cool night wind. Its honestly nothing out of the ordinary for someone of your occupation, in fact you're more impressed you weren't waking up in the middle of the night again, and it isn't long before sleep threatens to take you away once more.
Rolling back, before you can fully return to slumber, an arm reaches over to bring you into a warm embrace. Through your groggy senses, you find your son watching over you.
Though still sleepy, you reach out to smooth down his hair. "Good morning, cariño."
He says nothing, merely preening under your touch. Blinking between sleep, you feel your breathing even out as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Before you can fully doze off, your skin pricks up as he pulls the sheets off of the both of you, curling himself up as he rests his head on your chest.
Tangling your legs with his, your son wraps himself around you. Bunny noses along the dip of where your collarbones meet, his lips brush against the warm skin of your chest. Between your two forms, a thin layer of sweat already starts to build, skin sticking to scarred skin.
"Its too hot," You murmur, weakly trying to push him away from you to no avail. "Cariño, come on."
He ignores your wriggling, pinning you down to the bed as he pulls you into a tighter embrace. A soft noise akin to a whine leaves his lips, and in his displeasure, he leaves a playful nip on your collarbone, his teeth easily sinking into the skin.
A sharp hiss falls out, and yet you don't push him away, merely smacking his back. Despite this, he continues in his disobedient clinging. With a helpless smile playing on your lips, you sigh, "When did you come in? I thought you'd have knocked out after last night's match."
"The upstairs neighbours were being noisy again," With an aggrieved tinge to his coarse voice, Bunny fixes you with those large eyes of his, a sense of distress reflected in the deep red.
Your features scrunch together, wondering how you managed to sleep through it. "Well, you know how they are."
Resting his head back onto your chest, he murmurs against your tender skin as a hand plays with the hem of your pyjama shirt, an old jersey of his, "Mama, you should move in with me. Don't you always complain about how much you're awoken by them?"
"We've talked about this before, my answer isn't going to change." You run a hand through his hair, gently combing through the soft strands as his expression drops ever so slightly. Your heart has always been too weak for him, and you sigh, "Now now, I know you're just worried. How about we go talk to them later, okay?"
"Well, I guess it'll mostly be you, Mrs. Vidal and I tried last time around and I was practically useless."
At the mention of this, your son laughs, the sound from his chest resonating along your form, "Mhm, Catalan?"
"Luckily you're here, huh?" With an amused coo, you pat his head.
His eyes crinkle together, the corners of his lips curl as he hums, "Of course, what kind of son would I be if I can't even take care of you?"
You can't help the all too fond breath that leaves your lips, nor the chaste kiss on the top of his head that you leave.
As sunlight continues to filter through your curtains, eventually the distant Catalan you've been hearing from your nextdoor neighbour whittles away to mere whispers. You blink between sleep and wakefulness, absentmindedly petting your son's hair while he rests. Yet with the slight morning chill being replaced by the heat of the summer sun, the thin sheen of sweat amidst your tangled limbs has since become more than unbearable.
All you can muster is a strangled groan, your hand moves down to pat his back. He obliges, and without another word, lets you off the bed only to follow right after, pinching the edge of your shirt as he does. Adjusting the collar of the old jersey draped over you, you drag you and your son towards the open bathroom, hands squeezing out toothpaste as he stares at you through the mirror.
There's a creak in your hips still, a haziness lingering in your head that you can't quite shake off. Despite that all, you try your best to respond to Bunny's murmured musings.
"Et veus tan bonica amb la meva roba, hauries de continuar fent-la servir."His eyes lower to the toothbrush in your mouth, voice soft in your ears, ""Tant de bo tothom d'ahir a la nit et pogués veure així, potser així finalment deixarien de molestar-te.""
Spitting out your toothpaste, you helplessly smile, "You know I won't know what you want if I can't understand you."
He merely continues to watch you, his fingers easily slipping past the long hem of your shirt. The feeling of his large hands on your already sore waist pulls a muffled noise from your lips, and yet you pay his touchiness no mind, continuing to go about your morning routine. Without warning, he pulls you flush against his form, your hips now pressed to his.
"Espero que et trobis millor, et veies molt cansada aquests darrers dies."
"Hm? You hope what? You've been drinking enough water and taking breaks, right?" Your brows knit together, and you meet his intense gaze through the mirror. Upon hearing your concern, your son nods, that gentle smile still present.
He hums, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your hips, "Mhm, don't worry."
Though unconvinced, you don't pursue it any further.
"El teu conillet només t'estava cuidant. Em perdonaràs, oi?" Mirth tinges his words as he lowers his head, the fine hairs along your neck prick up as the feeling of intimate presence, at the warmth of his breath.
You can't quite tell what he's asking of you, you can only assume he did something silly again to be asking for your forgiveness like this. Before you can respond, in one swift motion, he leaves a quick kiss to the corner of your lips, the feeling of his lips lingering a beat too long. "Em vaig assegurar que et sentís bé, mai et podria deixar insatisfet."
You push his head away as you huff, earning you a giggle that softens your already weak heart. "Ay, brush your teeth first. You can kiss your future partner with your morning breath."
"Can't I kiss you too?" Murmuring, you're trapped between the sink and his tall form as a small breath of laughter infects your ears. "I'm just showing my mama the love she deserves."
You reach up to cup his face in your hand, affectionately patting his soft cheek. True to his words, he plants another kiss to your palm. You can only amusedly smile, "Well, your mama wants you to brush your teeth and to get ready for the day."
Clearly, this is the one thing that he doesn't want to do. And just like an unruly child, Bunny responds by burying his face into the crook of your neck, firmly refusing to peel himself off of you. He wraps his arms around you, the smell of your own bed on his skin.
No matter what you do, flicking water at him, attempting to move to the side, telling him you need to use the toilet, he doesn't budge.
"I'm very proud of you, you know that right?" A helpless breath leaves you, and yet you still reach to press a fleeting kiss to his hair. Finally, as you laugh, only then does he react, the warm sensation of his lips on your tender skin, "I love you."
"Ets el que més cuido en aquest món, mama."
Your ears warm, though you don't know what he said, you can't help but feel that maybe, its a perfect response.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
translation notes:
[i dont speak catalan and i used a translator for all this, there may be some mistakes]
"You're so cute in my clothes, you should just keep wearing them."
"I wish everyone from last night could see you like this, maybe then they'd finally stop bothering you."
"I hope you're feeling better, you looked so tired these past few days."
"You'll forgive me, right? Your bunny was just taking care of you."
"I made sure you felt good, I could never leave you dissatisfied."
"You are what I cherish most in this world, mama."
Your son's a good kid, he's just worried about the intentions of others, you never know what other people might be thinking!
Note: implied pseudocest, bunny calls reader mama, menace bunny, maybe ooc, this is before we have his backstory im just writing bullshit atp
Masterlist
//there was a point in time where i really wanted to do an entire series where reader picks up bunny from his hypothetical orphanage and raises him, and instead of being normal he develops a psychosexual attachment to her. and then i just,,, didnt
Your son is a good child.
He is kind and considerate, he has so rarely given you any proper reason to worry for him, and sometimes you can't help but worry that he doesn't need you at all.
Though, that worry is unfounded. No matter how old he is, he's always made sure to come home on time and cling onto you, asking for you to cook this or that, dragging you out to watch this movie or go window shopping. You suppose that either way, he's just looking for an excuse to use his football money on you.
If you can be honest, there is something you're worried about. You see, Bunny has a rather bad habit of forgetting that he is no longer your little son that you can just bring around everywhere.
You tend to clock off by 6pm, you'll take the train back to your apartment, and usually by then, Bunny will already be back from practice. Depending on his schedule, he'll either have dinner on the stove or be waiting for you at your office lobby. If there is ever any change to this routine of yours, you'd usually text him.
However, you've been in a bit of a bind as of late and had to stay back for an extra hour or two. Furthermore, your phone has completely died and you left your power bank at home. You were in luck that one of your other colleagues just so happened to be staying back as well.
"I cannot thank you enough, seriously," You laugh, hefting your work bag higher onto your shoulder as your weight shift between your heels. "My son must be worried sick right now."
Standing besides you in the cramped elevator, your colleague laughs, "No worries, its just a power bank."
Then as if realising something, he turns to you. "How old is he? Do you have to go pick him up from classes or something?"
Your eyes widen, and in an instant, you bring your hands up to wave away his concern.
"Ah, no no. He's well into adulthood now, its just… you know?" With an awkward tilt, you can only blunder out an excuse. When you only receive a confused look, it is then you realise your mistake. "Oh, no one told you?"
"Sorry, I don't think I know what you're talking about." Shyly, a soft flush seems to spread across his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck.
Waving his worry off once more, a gentle smile tugs on your lips. "Its alright, I'm his only parent so my son can get a bit protective of me. He's always worried about me walking late at night or going home alone, so I usually text him if I'm leaving at this hour."
"That's quite sweet, is his other parent not in the picture?"
"Its just us, I picked him up years ago and well..."
When the elevator numbers finally reach the ground floor, the cool air of the lobby floods your senses as you step out onto the cold marble. Your finger presses against the open button, and when you look out, there seems to be no one waiting in the cool foyer.
Before you can greet him goodbye, your colleague calls for you.
"I was wondering, if you're free tomorrow night…" His voice wavers, the sounds of late night bar-goers and occasional tram breaks up his hushed offer. You have to strain just to hear him, and upon noticing your struggle, he steps closer. With a shy smile, he asks, "Would you be up for dinner at La Marea?"
Staring at him, you can vaguely feel your mouth fall agape and your eyes widen a little too much for polite company. You can't quite seem to find the words to respond, voice dead on your tongue.
Before you can figure out some way to respond, a dark shadow falls upon your two forms.
A firm hand rests on your waist, and as you instinctively turn to look who it is, a familiar voice caresses the shell of your ear, "Mama."
Bunny rests his head on your shoulder, his arms snake around you as he all but hangs off of you. His soft hair tickles the tender skin of your neck, and you can't help the way your senses seem to fry at his warm breath fanning across your chest.
"Bunny, wasn't practice over an hour ago? Why are you here?" Cooing, you raise a hand to pat down his hair.
Your practiced action merely earns you a tighter nuzzle. His arms wrap around you tighter, as if afraid you'll disappear, as he murmurs into the crook of your neck, "I was worried, you weren't responding to my texts or my calls."
"I'm sorry cariño, my phone died."
He musters the will to peek at you, his eyes glossy as you feel him pout ever so slightly against your skin. Despite this aggrieve, the corners of his lips still raise as he finally looks up to glance at your colleague.
"Its alright, who is this? One of your co-workers?" His voice is soft, a question meant only for you to hear.
Shifting between your feet, you feel him press himself closer against you. "Mhm, he's quite new in office so you haven't met him yet."
As you continue comforting him, you send your colleague a polite look. He has put some distance between the two of you, you belatedly notice, his posture a little straighter.
"This is my son, Bunny. You'll be seeing a lot of him around if you decide to continue here."
At the very least, your son manages to peel enough of himself off of you to wave and greet the other man, though his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
If your colleague has noticed, he doesn't say. He offers his hand to shake and receives your son's greeting with a firm look. "Its a pleasure to meet you. Bunny, like FC Barcha's Bunny?"
Before Bunny can respond, the routine tram passes through on its usual route. Paired with the drunken shouting, you're unable to quite catch what has left his smiling lips.
"Oh no, I'm just some second rate player. I'm still stuck in group 3 in the Segunda Federación."
The other man' face twists ever so slightly, features scrunched together as he ponders whatever was just said to him. The more he looks at him, the more unsure he looks and yet when you look at your son's face, you can't quite figure out what has got your colleague in such confusion.
"Ah, about what I was saying, would you consider my offer?" He tries again, this time once the city has settled into a quiet lull.
Still at a loss, you avert your gaze. "That's awfully sweet of you to ask me that but…"
A tall shadow falls upon you, and when you glance at your son out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he's peeled himself off of you. Now, Bunny has taken to crowding himself to your side, having wrapped an arm around your hip as your shoulder presses against his ribs.
His gentle voice rings in your ears, "Mama, you must be hungry, right? I've already picked up your favourite."
"I suppose it really is getting quite late." Taking a peek at your watch, a soft sigh escapes you as Bunny takes your work bag off your shoulder. A soft smile pulls at your lips as he silently fusses over you. "Well, I'll have a think about it, see you tomorrow and have a good night."
Your colleague lets a tight smile spread across his face, his hand raised weakly to bid you and your son goodbye, "…you too, and it really was nice to meet you."
As the both of you finally leave your office, Bunny slips his hand into yours, entangling his larger fingers with your own the same way he used to as a child. The usually lively city has grown quieter, warm street lights illuminating the way to the train station.
That colleague of yours, you aren't too certain whether you'll really agree to go out with him, workplace romances never end well. Besides, he's barely a few years older than your Bunny, and he might be uncomfortable with a stranger in your routine.
Sighing to yourself, you can only resign yourself to a awkward conversation in the break room tomorrow.
"Mama, we'll be having a practice match tomorrow night, you'll come right?" He all but pouts, voice dropping to that pitiful whine as he presses himself to your side. "Its been so long since you've come."
A soft laugh falls from your lips, you suppose your plans for tomorrow have been decided.
"Alright, I'll try to finish up early, okay?"
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
Your colleague could have sworn that there was a Bunny playing for FC Barcha, and he could have sworn that said Bunny was your son. Its just that the way he denied it was so serious, that he couldn't help but to believe him.
When you were talking about your son, he was expecting anything but that, anything but what felt like the actual devil hanging off of your shoulders.
With eyes as red and large like those, he almost felt like if he stayed to talk to you any longer, he might have been incinerated to nothing more than ashes.
How was it possible that someone like you raised someone like that?
As he slumps onto his couch, he absentmindedly flicks open his TV, some random channel playing old matches lighting up his dim apartment. Funnily enough, it was a Barcha match. He couldn't help but to laugh to himself about the coincidence.
Fighting hard to remain awake, the match ends and the screen flashes to a close-up of one of the players, and spread across his vision is the face of that pale-haired devil, smiling that sweet smile as he puts up his hand in his signature pose. And as the scene changes to the crowd, he spots your familiar face at the very front of the stands, clad in a Barcha jersey and cheering.
The devil is real, he's alive and well, and a football player playing for FC Barcha.
syn: only blue lock could find a way to make money off your miserable appearance... and only hugo could be your most dedicated stan.
wc: 2329
cw: buratsuta, a few su/cide jokes, 1 murder joke, fat/ugly jokes about buratsuta
notes: fem pronouns / fluff / no y/n used / ooc hugo / miscommunication-ish / they're both still stupid your honor / hugo is crazy mentally
a/n: brazil losing the match pmo so bad (im only annoyed at the br team norway did well) i started writing this / also nothing about this is realistic in the slightest i just thought it would be funny
previous series masterlist next
wow, that was a good nap, was the first thing you thought when you woke up. as your senses slowly came back to you, you realised that you weren't in the cafeteria like you clearly remember being. no, you were somehow in your room.
when you stumbled out of bed and looked at the time on your phone, you nearly fainted. you clearly remember it was 9pm, so how is it now 9am?! and if the time wasn't enough, the sunlight peeking through the blinds was undeniable proof. how did you sleep for 12 hours?
in the midst of your confusion, the door opens, making you flinch. anri's distinctive pinkish-orange hair appears, and her face is a mixture of what you can only describe as pity and nerves. her expression brightens up slightly when she notices that you're awake, flicking the light on, blinding you.
"good morning!" she greets cheerily, closing the door. you mumble a morning back, rubbing your eyes. "did you have a good sleep?"
"mm, but how did i get to my room…? i thought i was in the cafeteria…" anri visibly stiffens up at your question, her smile fully nervous.
"well, you see… you fell asleep there, and…" she hesitates to continue despite you looking at her inquisitively, urging her to continue. with a wince, she looks away from your face, and says: "vivien hugo found you first, and ended up carrying you to your room. i was the one who brought him here, of course… we tried to wake you up, but you weren't budging at all! …besides, you've been working especially hard these days, so i thought it was good for you to get some rest…"
her explanation grows more frantic with every word, while sounding like she was trying to justify what happened. what you were really stuck on was that hugo carried you back. hugo. vivien hugo. that hugo?
"vivien… hugo? the one from france?" you blurt, eyes looking down to the shirt on your body. the iconic deep blue of france stares right back at you.
anri tilts her head to the side, now able to look back at you, expression morphed into one of confusion. "there's only one vivien hugo…"
you flop back onto the bed and shove your face into the pillow. you were going to die of embarrassment.
"anri, please tell me you're pulling my leg." your plea comes out muffled, but even you know that she wouldn't joke about something like that. it just sounds so absurd that your mind is in a deep state of denial.
"why would i joke about that…" the confusion in her voice is palpable, as the weight of the shirt only feels heavier on your body.
"but why was he still here that late? shouldn't he have gone back to his hotel already?" you're trying desperately to find gaps in the story, worse than grasping at straws, you were trying to grasp at microfibers. as expected, it only serves to keep you company as you sink further into disbelief.
"he said he was reviewing footage and lost track of time, i called him a taxi after he brought you back." she explains, effectively crumbling any plausible explanation you held onto. your body and face practically burns with embarrassment.
"anri, should i just kill myself?" your expression is bleak as you sit back up, your thoughts even more so. her jaw drops as she cries in shock, taking your hands in hers in record speed while her head shakes left and right in such quick succession that you were starting to think that she might get whiplash.
"it's not that bad, really! please don't say those kinds of things!!!"
as it turns out, it is that bad, really. for an entirely different reason.
capitalism is a contagious virus that must be eradicated, is what your solemn thoughts settle on after hearing what buratsuta had to say. as per usual, they were anything but pleasant let alone meaningful, but this time in particular did you really think that you should consider becoming a philosopher or a writer instead, what with all the novel ways you were coming up with to insult him and by extension the JFU. truly, you underestimated the value of language, sentence structure, and the myriad of words at your disposal. all you're missing is a dictionary to expand your vocabulary.
"—and that's why, to capitalise off the world cup being held in japan, we've decided to make you into a limited edition plush keychain!" his annoyingly stupid voice says, fat finger pointing at you while he grins using the face not even his mother could love to introduce the plush hanging from his finger. a flashing thought of buratsuta is a monument of all that is wrong with japanese football, and japan as a society, disappears as quickly as it forms.
the plush's face has a visibly downturn expression, brows knitted in worry. honestly, it looked like it was about to burst into tears. you would too if buratsuta was holding you like that. in its right hand was a miniature clipboard. they've managed to get most of your features right, you'll give them credit for that.
"um." you're genuinely speechless. first, you woke up having magically teleported to your room from the cafeteria, only to find out that the one guy who you are inexplicably afraid of was said teleportation. then, you're told that you have been made into a limited edition merchandise in hopes of boosting sales, without your consent! surely they could have made sae, someone with heaps more fans and fame, into one instead of you?!
"we have already made 100 copies of it, and announced it since last week. it will only be up for sale for as long as the stock doesn't run out, and if it finishes quickly, we'll make more!" buratsuta eagerly explains to the audience consisting of only you, ego, and anri. neither of you looked like you wanted nor consented to being here.
"doesn't that defeat the purpose of it being limited, though…?" you mumble more to yourself, your brain about four hours behind. it would've been better if you just stayed asleep forever.
"that's why we can make more variations of you, each limited edition! and because it's limited edition, we can even double the price!" his eyes are practically dollar signs with the way he's speaking, and you can't help but cringe. why was he speaking about you like you were only a piece of merchandise…
you can vaguely hear anri arguing with buratsuta, but you're sincerely thinking about retirement from this field of work. the paycheck is not all it's cracked up to be, there's no pride to be spoken of, hell, there's no life to be even thought of.
"at least give me a cut of the sales," you sigh, head in your hands. anri makes a sound of agreement, and you're sure ego couldn't care less.
"of course! 5%!"
forget killing yourself, you should kill buratsuta instead.
there was an interesting post hugo saw the other day, during his monthly instagram doomscroll. it's not something he's proud of, but at least it only happens once a month. this time however, is perhaps the first time he has ever felt grateful for doomscrolling.
hugo came upon a post from the japanese football union, an announcement for the new release of world cup exclusive merchandise. at first, hugo was going to scroll past. he's not into merchandise for himself, let alone of a completely foreign country. but just as his thumb was poised to flick, he noticed something, or rather, someone.
there was a plushie with familiar details. a shade of hair he sees often in his life and dreams these days, eyes he would know anywhere. the cherry on top was the little clipboard in their hand, and hugo knew in an instant that it was you. that pitiful, downturned expression grasped at his heartstrings immediately, and hugo knew that it was his civic duty to buy plushie you and give you a loving home.
all 100 of you.
otherwise, what kind of a suitor would he be if he didn't show his dedication to you? besides, it would be very motivating to see mini you by his bedside every morning, greeting him in lieu of the real you.
so he marks the date down on his reminders, and patiently counts the days until he can bring home the soft and fuzzy version of you.
and that's how hugo ends up arriving in front of the blue lock merchandise store, a few minutes after opening. he can already see you at the very front, words in japanese he can't read.
hugo's steps speed up ever so slightly, with half a mind to take one of the shopping baskets. he approaches the stand holding all 100 of you, and picks up one wrapped in plastic reverently.
quietly, he meticulously adds each one to his basket, arranging them neatly in rows. mentally, he counts each one. the price wasn't something he was concerned about, to say the least. that was a perk of being a famous footballer with a contract in a famous team. plus, it's not like he ever spends that money, anyway.
96, 97, 98, 99…
the empty shelf in front of hugo tells no lies. there was only 99 of you. he blinks and look back at the rows of plushie you, and then back at the empty shelves, and there's still none of you left. did he count wrong?
maybe he did, he tries to comfort himself. he'll have a second opportunity to do a headcount when he's paying. and if it really is true that one of you is missing, then he can ask the cashier. as the saying goes, faire d'une pierre deux coups, or kill two birds with one stone.
the lady at the counter greets him while he places his shopping basket on the counter. her eyes widen comically at the stacks of plushie you, and she looks hesitant to start scanning them.
"i'm sorry sir, but i have to ask, are you trying to re-sell these?" the earbuds translate her question, hugo shaking his head no in response. he takes his phone out of his pocket to open a translator app, typing his response swiftly.
no, it's a personal collection. i am a big fan of the character. his reply is a stark contrast to the lack of expression on his face, and it's clear as day that she doesn't believe him. however, she doesn't press on, instead starting to scan the mountain of plushies in his basket.
hugo's count starts again, eyes focused on each and every single plushie as they get taken out, scanned, and added to the bag, but just as before, his count stops at 99.
on his phone, he types again: do you know if someone bought the first one?
the cashier reads it and thinks for a moment as she types the price into the card reader. then, she nods.
"someone came in just before you did and bought the first one." she shows him the price, a whopping ¥594,000 not including tax, but hugo hardly bats an eye as he types in his pin. €3,200 was hardly anything if it was for and about you. (besides, he probably earns that within a few days, if not hours.)
hugo walks out of the store both elated and a little disappointed. he couldn't buy all of you, but he did get almost everyone. the next step is getting you, the real person.
(there's a viral post on twitter the next day, of a man that looks exactly like hugo photographed at the blue lock merchandise shop buying all the limited edition manager plushies. the caption is an angry, "who does this scalper think he is?!", but as time goes on, people are increasingly doubting whether he's a scalper or just a really rich, dedicated, and greedy fan.
some people point out that he looks awfully similar to vivien hugo, the football player, but others brush them off. but this quickly gains more attention when a photo of him walking to his training grounds the next day has your plushie dangling from a zipper on his training bag, safe in a little plastic cage.
charles and loki both side-eyed the new addition to his bag, one a lot more subtle than the other. charles asked if hugo could get him one, but hugo was uncharacteristically absentminded, too focused on patting your sad little face. and also wondering who managed to get the first plushie.
on the other side, buratsuta is ecstatic that you've sold so well despite being a nobody. you're scratching your head wondering who the hell would buy a dumb plushie of you, when you come across a photo of a european-looking man carrying a shopping basket full of those accursed plushies of you.
you squint as you bring your phone closer to your face, feeling an odd sense of familiarity at the burgundy-black hair. but from the side, you can hardly recognise a thing.
you're inclined to brush it off, after all, these past few days have been a lot, but then a second photo hits your timeline, this time undeniable proof that it is, in fact, hugo himself, plushie you securely placed inside the plastic cage attached to his bag.
to make things worse, basically everyone in blue lock had seen the viral tweet and sent it to you to ask if it was hugo.
as if that wasn't bad enough, you later saw a news article titled: "NEW GENERATION XI MEMBER VIVIEN HUGO SEEN BULK-BUYING BLUE LOCK MERCHANDISE?" with a picture of your plushie plastered right next to a blurry picture of hugo inside the store.
everyday you wake up is both a mistake and a new, unique horror made to torment you and only you.)
taglist (open! comment or send an ask to be added): @thetwinkims@luffyloving@oh-miniso@mydearest1@renchai@maryj0yy@j2yin@caravm@passionfruitenthusiast@90s-belladonna@kaaaaaaaaaaa@youseembored@h4zzel@notepadgirl14@appalost@stal1n33@z4ytoun@iheartshota@noyamlv@styx101@luvvcharxo@luvynii@prime-vere@nikanyon@ayya-0@animefreaksss@redeveryflower @sugarapplepiee @st4rgirl1235@vhampified@lua-1201@salamiwarrior@roseapov@levihanmyotp@superstar-emily@obsessivesmiley@cherriee-ee@mfb-777@stvrbrighttt@trip13-aaa@kittybs112@kaemaybae@bunnybarou@cinnamontheevillittle@hydraa17@rinitoshis-stuff@mariaelizabeth21-blog1@r3nr3nn1e
Long days and even longer nights, it really isn't good to stare at screens for so long. Though it turns out that all it takes to get closer to your office crush is to put eyedrops in at your desk.
//another corporate au!!! a manager jokingly told me not to cry when i was putting in eye drops and i just had to write yuta in this exact situation
The bright fluorescent lights burn your retinas, the low hum of central air-conditioning buzzes in your ears and you're tired of this.
You haven't left your little corner of the office since 4pm, the half-eaten convenience store bento box has been sitting at your desk for the past 2 hours, and despite it all, you still can't bring yourself to finish it.
After shifting your PDF program to the second screen, you force yourself to look away from the bright screens. You take off your blue screen lenses as a heavy breath leaves your lips, spinning your desk chair so you face the vast emptiness of the office.
Tears well at the bottom of your eyes, that familiar sting builds from behind and though you blink to reduce the itch, it doesn't help. You reach for the small bottle of eye-drops on your desk, and despairingly, you squeeze.
The droplet barely lands, dripping onto the inner corner of your eye and streaming down your cheek. You are quick to wipe it away with the cuff of your sleeve but just as you look up to try again, someone approaches you.
"A-are you alright? Did something happen?"
Through your glazed over eyes, you can only weakly squeak, "Huh?"
Before the previous words process, the person in front of you has already offered you a tissue, their voice gentle, "Here, you don't have to tell me if its too much, I can just sit here with you."
Despite your confusion, you take it, wiping away the remaining solution. When your vision clears, you realise that Yuta is sitting in the chair besides yours. His staff tag is hanging loosely around his neck, he's got a hoodie thrown over his button-up shirt and his tie looks a little loose, having probably tugged on it earlier.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" You wave off, voice a little raspy from your lack of water, "I was just putting in eye-drops."
"Huh? Ah—!"
"I misunderstood, I'm so sorry." His eyes shift to the small bottle in your hand and then to your still slightly reddened eyes. "But you don't mind if I stay, right?"
A soft breath escapes you, and you can't help the smile creeping up your lips. "Of course not, I'm taking a break anyway."
From the corner of your eyes, Yuta pulls up the chair besides you and starts to unpack his backpack, pulling out his computer and mouse. It takes you a few more tries to get your eye drops in, and when you finally do, you realise something.
As you turn to him, you point out his set up. "How come you haven't left? Did something pop up in the system?"
He rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face as he explains, "Ah… yeah. One of my colleagues was dealing with an issue but he needs to catch the last train, and I live nearby so I came in."
"That's awfully nice of you, and lucky too," You muse.
What you would do for an apartment near office, it'd mean no more cramming yourself into a train already filled to the brim or having to set aside an emergency hotel expense.
Your mind wanders far away from this cold office, you make up images of what his living space could possibly look like. Yuta's desk at the IT department is usually so neat, stationary tucked neatly into the standard desk organisers, his sticky notes aligned in perfect formation on the low dividers, even his wires are somehow well-behaved. His apartment must be just as tidy as that, if not more.
His kitchen manners are probably neat too, imagining him in an apron, those pretty hands wrapped around the handle of a knife and cutting up vegetables to cook—
And if you can be honest, he seems like the kind of guy who does his laundry really meticulously, and that is just making you feel all hot inside.
As you immerse yourself in the fantasy of domesticity, you can faintly hear someone calling your name. "You're really feeling better, right?"
"Yeah, don't worry about it. If I look like shit, its probably from the overtime," Shaking yourself out of your trance, you laugh, one that earns you an earnest purse of his lips.
Before you can try to reassure him further, he pulls out a plastic bag and offers you a bottle of green tea. Despite being about 200ml, an absurd amount for your average convenience store drink, Yuta's hand makes it look way smaller.
"You like this brand, right? I managed to stop by the convenience store before I came up," He cocks his head as he asks, a soft flush spreads across his face and his soft hair sway along his gentle movement.
As you reach out to take it, your fingers brush against each other as a smile spreads across your lips. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
He doesn't say, and somewhere in those dark eyes, a flicker of mirth seems to cross them.
As the clock hits 12, the crack of a plastic bottle cuts through the low hum of electronics and air conditioning. The glow of the overhead lights still burn into your eyes, and yet in this empty office, all it took was that gentle presence for your heart to no longer ache.
And one day, you'll finally tell him. Just maybe not today, or tomorrow.
So what if you keep having to make trips down to the IT department for 'simple' issues, what if the love of your life is the cute guy with the eyebags and the massive hoodie?
//in honour of me being put through humiliation ritual after humiliation ritual on my first day. this is written out of pure desperation
"I'm so sorry, the excel sheet just won't open and I'm meant to be working on this today and I must be such a bother right now, aren't I?"
Approaching the desk, you sigh as you muster the most pitiful expression you can. With your computer in your grasp, you've come all the way to the IT department for one thing.
Well two things but that excel sheet isn't that important in all honesty.
"I really don't mean to disturb you, especially so close to lunch but one of the managers sent this over for a last check and now it won't even open." You lean closer towards Yuta, tucking your hair behind your ear as you send him a side-long glance.
The tips of his ears burn, he flinches yet he doesn't move away, stammering, "Y-yeah, don't worry about it. It's pretty normal if you have a lot of links. This will be a quick fix."
"Really?" You smile, eyes focusing on him rather than your poor computer. "Here I thought my boss was going to have my head. You're a life saver, you know?"
He only flushes harder at your little comment. All he can muster is a muttering too soft for your ears and despite that, he starts to work on your computer, pulling up this and that and the taskbar for whatever little predicament you got yourself into.
That's right, you've come here for one thing and one thing only, the IT department's very own Okkotsu Yuta. He's apparently been scouted a while ago, and ever since most of the IT systems in use have been completely streamlined. And sure, he's cute with those large eyes and almost blank expression he's got on most of the time— like he's ten miles away from earth— but you're more interested in just how good he looks when he's in his element.
He's bunched up the sleeves of his white hoodie, exposing his lean forearms to the air-conditioning and your wandering eyes. They're so smooth you're almost jealous, and as he waits for some program to load, you catch a hint of the outline of his veins, soft blues and greens highlighted by the fluorescent lighting. Even his hands are pretty, large and bony, gliding across the keyboard you struggled to adjust to with ease.
He always looks so small drowning in baggy hoodies and pants, but ever since that fateful day at pickle ball, every time you catch a hint of something more, your heart feels like it's just about to bust through your chest.
His eyes sharpen and from the corner of your eyes, the excel sheet is already nearly up and running. Despite how quickly he sorted out your little predicament, you catch the prideful little scrunch on his nose.
No matter how cute he is, you internally deflate. You thought this one would buy you a little more time to ogle him, but these 5 minutes of staring felt like nothing more than a second.
Gingerly, he hands you back your computer, your fingers brush for just a moment.
With a half-hearted look around, you let a soft sigh leave your lips, "Looks like all your colleagues have headed off, I'm really sorry about holding you up."
"Oh its fine, its fine! Most of them are just getting take out anyways."
Just as you turn to leave, he calls out for you, "Uhm, if you don't mind, do you want to grab lunch together?" Then just as quickly, Yuta rushes to explain himself, his words getting faster and faster, "We don't have to! I just thought you haven't had lunch either and there's this restaurant nearby that does really good rice bowls!"
A smile plays at your lips and the corners of your eyes crinkle together.
i love bladie sm and hes such a chinese dad <333 no spoilers! / can be read as platonic or romantic! / gn reader / reader is part of the stellaron hunters & some sesame slander
//
another successful script meant that you finally had time to relax.
your plan was to just sleep in all day, maybe cuddle with sesame the fat cat if he was feeling merciful. blade, on the other hand, seemed to have other plans.
namely, feeding you.
now, it's not like you're malnourished or anything like that, blade would never stand for that. but it's also not like you were feeling particularly hungry, either…
so instead of sleeping on your bed like you planned, you're eating plate after plate of food that blade keeps insisting on cooking. your head feels dizzy just looking at the spread of dishes on the table, your stomach begging for mercy while sesame happily munches on his own food beside you. god, that cat really can eat…!
"are you finished?" blade stares at you from across the table, arms crossed as if expecting you to be able to eat this whole banquet. at this rate, you'll be full for the whole week — no, month!
"i'm.. can't…" you barely manage to utter, slumping in your seat and admitting defeat. if you had a white flag, you would be waving it furiously. sesame meows unhelpfully from beside you, before leaping onto your lap.
"…alright." blade moves to clear the dishes, the clinking of plates and containers sound like the start of a heavenly harmony, and you're almost certain that you've eaten yourself to death.
then, another plate is placed on the table, beside your head.
"at least eat some fruit."
you take a peek at the plate, there lays an assortment of bunny-shaped apple slices, strawberries in the shape of hearts, and slices of golden pear, all with cute animal picks.
sesame meows and paws at the plate.
you look up and see blade's expectant gaze, almost as if saying, i dare you to not eat it.
sweating, you take a slice of pear and put it in your mouth. oh man, you just know that were going to fall into the longest food-induced coma known in existence.
(sesame steals a bite of strawberry. are we sure the voracity wasn't reincarnated into this… totally normal sized cat…?)
syn: the france vs japan match of the group stage has just begun! you would be more excited if there wasn't a certain someone staring holes into you from all the way across the field...
wc: 946
notes: fem pronouns / no y/n used / ooc hugo / some spoilers if you havent reached this part of the manga yet /fluff / still miscommunication but no words are exchanged between them here LMAO / idiot2idiot communication / a little dramatic for no reason...
a/n: i did have a good laugh writing this just thinking about hugo trying to send vibes and reader getting absolutely None Of Them
the long awaited france vs japan match was today, and you were feeling an extremely strong sense of dread.
funnily, the match itself wasn't your real source of dread. you should be more anxious about it, after all japan's world cup dreams hinge on their survival of the knockout stage, but all your feelings for it have been replaced by the fear of one man.
vivien hugo of france.
it's safe to say that your first meeting had put the fear of the french in you. or at least, the fear of hugo specifically. could anyone blame you? he towered over you, stared at you with an unreadable expression, and demanded your name as if you had somehow managed to wrong him and his entire family! and you still don't know what you did to him!
thankfully, you managed to avoid him after that thanks to the actual match preparations. up until now, at least…
the match had yet to start, players from both sides settling into their positions, but even at the benches standing beside anri, you could feel the gaze of a certain man. you didn't need to look to see who was staring at you so intensely, the way your head was already a little lightheaded and your heart was practically trying to beat out of your chest told you enough. and you intended to try and ignore him for the whole match. besides, he can't look at you while he's playing!
when you took a quick glance over at the field, noting the opposing team's players and layout, your eyes accidentally met hugo's. his stare had yet to falter or lose even a little bit of its intensity, and meeting his gaze seemed to have somehow made it more… intense?! why did he look like he was going to kick the ball in your direction and say it was an accident??!!
okay, maybe you were just crazy. you had to be. right? there's no reason why someone like him would be staring at you. maybe he was just looking at the general direction of the bench and scouting out the reserves. it had to be that. god, if only you could give him a yellow card for staring!
tearing your eyes away, you decided that looking at your clipboard would be a lot more productive than playing an internal game of "he hates me, he hates me not that much." you just had to endure these 90-or-so minutes, pray that everyone would come out with their pride still intact, and you with your heart still beating.
um, probably.
hugo has been looking forward to this match for more reasons than one.
meeting isagi yoichi and seeing what all the "hype" about the unsuitable striker was the original reason. however, ever since meeting you, his other reason is that he wants to see you.
it was truly unfortunate that he didn't manage to see you again after your first meeting, his head still replaying the memory of your hand in his, your name on his lips. even when he tried to focus on training, his thoughts would inevitably slip to you when it got particularly boring.
now, standing on the field, hugo can see you for the first time in what feels like forever. you're standing by the benches, talking to the older female assistant with a tablet in your hands. ah, he wishes he could walk over and listen to your voice.
when your conversation finished, you took a look over the field, and time seemed to stop as your eyes met his. hugo could feel his heart stutter in his chest, a heat rising to his face and a sudden self-consciousness. did you think he looked good in his kit? he hopes so, because he thinks you look breathtaking in yours.
(he thinks a jersey with his name written on it would look the best on you, though.)
"do you really have a crush on their manager?" charles tilted his head at him, still unused to the idea that someone like hugo was capable of having crushes. it was like watching a robot have feelings that were outside of their programming, and while it was a wonder of nature (or technology, more like), it was also a source of confusion. if charles was recalling right, hugo only met and spoke to you once, and you looked terrified the whole time!
"it's not a crush, it's true love." hugo replied in an instant, eyes still trained on you. he could see charles making a face akin to a question mark from the corner of his eye, along with a mumble under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "scary", but that was irrelevant. he hopes you've seen him play, but if not, that's alright. you have no choice but to watch him dominate the field today, and as destiny would have it, you too will fall into his arms right after.
the sharp beep of the whistle broke him out of his sweet daydream of you in his arms, a clear and indisputable signal that the match was about to start. hugo could see that you it had surprised you from the small jump you did, and gosh, you were so cute that hugo might have to ask the referee to call in a yellow card on japan, because your presence alone was already a distraction, albeit a very welcomed one.
(he would've suggested a red card to hide you away, but he does still want to see you…)
ah, no matter. he hopes you won't hold it against him for the match today.
(or maybe it'll convince you to switch loyalties…?)
syn: as the intern assistant manager in blue lock, your responsibilities are endless and your salary is low. as if that wasn't already bad enough, you wind up drawing the distaste of new gen 11 player vivien hugo, and you don't even know what you did!
or in which, hugo falls in love with you at first sight, but you think he absolutely hates you.
wc: 814
notes: fem pronouns / fluff / no y/n used / miscommunication-ish / they're both stupid your honor / reader is an intern assistant manager (is that a role probably not but who cares) / don't think too hard about how you got to bllk,,, just know that you are there
a/n: this is that idea i posted a little while ago, unfortunately i can't promise this is any good but if people like it enough i might do a little series with them since i do think it's the kind of idea that is better presented over multiple writings (i also realised that hugo's part sounds slightly... ominous/overtly serious (?) but at the same time it is hugo so.) enjoy!
it was supposed to be routine, just another part of your duties as an intern assistant manager to blue lock. helping the foreign teams accommodate, guiding them to training areas and other similar facilities, but how did it end up with france's vivian hugo basically breathing down your neck?!
to put the timeline into place, it started with ego ordering you to help some france players around the blue lock facility. you did ask why loki and charles couldn't just help themselves since, you know, they were here just awhile ago, but he ignored you. such is the life of an intern, you suppose…
anyhow, you greeted loki, charles, and the new member hugo when they arrived. you flowed into an easy conversation with charles, who was as excitable as always, but you couldn't shake the feeling of hugo's eyes piercing into your back, and for some reason it put your body into some form of fight-or-flight. maybe his tall and intimidating stature and blank face had something to do with it…
you could only smile with a slightly strained look as you showed them to one of the training grounds, already set with water bottles and towels for their use. you were more than eager to run away as soon as you could, lest you melt into a puddle of nerves thanks to hugo.
but before you could leave, a hand grabbed your wrist, cornering you, and you knew for a fact that neither loki nor charles was to blame. so, with a bated breath and a short prayer, you turned around to meet hugo's face, that was scarily close to yours.
"you didn't give me your name." his eyes, the pair of black holes that they are, threatened to swallow you whole. you can only hope that your gulp wasn't audible or noticeable.
stuttering out your name, you shook your hand free and effectively ran away with a flimsy excuse that ego had some work for you to finish. were all the new gens this intimidatingly weird?!
vivian hugo didn't expect to fall in love in japan, let alone in the blue lock facility.
he had seen some clips of the neo egoist league, mostly the pxg matches, but he swears you were never in them. because if you were, he would've gone to japan much, much earlier. hell, he might've even asked to transfer to pxg temporarily just to see you!
but destiny has a funny way of working, so hugo supposes there's no point lamenting something out of his control. it's more important that he gets to meet you now, isn't it?
everything about you has enraptured him at just the first glance. the way you smiled, the glimmer in your eyes, the tone of your voice… hugo knew in an instant that you were his other half, just as he is yours.
while you entertained charles in the front, hugo walked behind you next to loki. his eyes couldn't leave your figure even if he wanted to, not that he ever would. loki, seemingly noticing this laser focus, leaned over to him.
"what's with you?" loki asks him, low enough that charles's yapping could cover it perfectly.
"she's my soulmate." hugo replies with complete seriousness, that even loki stares at him with disbelief.
"sometimes i worry about you, hugo…"
when you later tried to run away like a skittish kitten, hugo couldn't let you go without at least knowing your name. he could ask loki or charles, but if he wanted to properly court you, he needs to hear it from you! besides, it's more attractive if a man is assertive, if his sister's favourite romance novels are anything to go by.
that's why hugo took your arm and cornered just like he's seen in all those popular movies, because this is the move that girls usually swoon over, right?
seeing you look up at him, wide-eyed and stuttering out your name, hugo felt like he could already hear the chiming of bells and a scenic place — maybe somewhere in france or japan, wherever you liked — decorated in white. his own heart stuttered, warmth blooming in his chest as he watched you run away. damn, he already hates to see you go, but he might just be in love with watching you leave.
"hugo, what was that?!" charles gawks, eyes as wide as saucers and jaw hanging open. said man was still staring at where you were just a minute ago, soaking in the feeling of being in such close proximity to you, before blinking and snapping himself out of the trance you had him in.
charles's question goes unanswered as hugo sets his bag down and slips off his jacket, preparing his warm-ups, now with a new dream in his mind.
by the end of the world cup, you will be his. it's your shared destiny, after all.
you sniffle as another breeze of cold air blows past your face, burying yourself deeper into your jacket. silly you somehow managed to forget your scarf on such a cold day.
next to you, hugo watches all your reactions with great interest. small puffs of cloud-like air are visible from your breath, disappearing just as quickly as they form.
bundled up like this, hugo thinks you look absolutely adorable. however, there was one thing you were missing…
one second, you were without a scarf. the next, a warm and fluffy scarf was wrapped around your neck like a gentle embrace.
you don't need to look around to know who had placed it on you with such soft hands. instead, you lean into hugo's side, your colder hand slipping into his warmer one, and you stand on the tips of your toes to place a little kiss on his cheek.
despite the dim light, there's a layer of red dusting his face, and you're quite sure it isn't from the cold.
when you start to pull away, hugo's free hand lands on your cheek, and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours in a kiss that sends warmth through your body and melts the snowflakes beginning to fall.
when he pulls away, the two of you continue your little walk, but you don't miss how hugo holds your hand even tighter, and you return it with a content smile, snuggled warmly in his scarf.
divider creds go to @/saradika-graphics !!
big fan of winter and hugo's favourite season is winter so we are meant 2 be (im going crazy)
Normal couples usually change their phone wallpapers to each other or have matching sweaters. You like to think that you and Yuta are a normal couple, who do normal things like bite each other and stalk each other.
Note: yuta bites your finger really suggestively, mentions and descriptions of stalking (both from yuta and from an unnamed person), reader and yuta being weird together, yuta gets pettily jealous over rika for a moment, reader wears a lot of jewelry
//he wont leave the yuta worms wont leave, connected to this, this and this but can be read alone
If there was one thing you hated about this school, it might just be the commute back.
Its ridiculously long, and if there's something waiting for you, its probably already tampered with or at the very least poked at.
The autumn wind along your neck pulls a shiver from you as you enter the dark kitchen, surprisingly empty for the day. You blindly fumble for the light, flicking it on and make your way to the fridge. An odd sense of anxiety had been building in your heart the moment you clocked off your part-time job, only growing the closer and closer you got to the dorms. Only when your eyes land on a familiar white box do you set your pounding heart down.
The last time you bought something for yourself, it disappeared before you could get to it. You didn't have to think too hard as to who ate it— after all, you did take 'tax' for the snack errands you always ran for your eccentric teacher— but that didn't mean you were any less annoyed. At least your little treat still being in the fridge meant he'd been deterred by the other things in there.
A delighted hum leaves your lips, you dig it out and spin towards the drawers, picking through the forks until you find the perfect one. With everything set up, you angle your phone above the Mont Blanc and snap a photo. Without checking, you quickly send it to Yuta and send him a quick message.
[11:12 pm, 08/03/20XX Yū-chan: That looks good, this is the dessert you were telling me about right?]
[11:12 pm, 08/03/20XX Yū-chan: Did you get it from the department store?]
[11:13 pm, 08/03/20XX (y/n): www, yeah]
[11:13 pm, 08/03/20XX (y/n): gojo-sensei didn't eat it this time]
[11:13 pm, 08/03/20XX (y/n): wait arent you on your mission]
[11:14 pm, 08/03/20XX (y/n): stop texting me and focus!!!]
[11:14 pm, 08/03/20XX Yū-chan: I'll be careful, and if I don't respond to your messages, I think I'll get a bit nervous myself]
Looking down at your phone, the tips of your ears start to heat up as your teeth catch onto your bottom lip. You can't do anything other than put down your phone, more than a little flustered at his last message. Instead, you stab your fork into the pastry in an attempt to calm yourself down.
"….that last one was horrible!" Whisper-ranting, Nobara pushes open the door, stumbling in with Maki close behind. "Eh, you're back."
"Hiii," Waving, your other hand covers your mouth, muffling your voice slightly. "You're up late"
You get a cool wave in response, watching as they dig through the cabinets. They rifle past a few bags of snacks until they find the stash Maki had hidden away a while ago. Satisfied with their selection, they settle next to each other.
With a chip against her bottom lip, Nobara asks, "You didn't have a mission today right? Why'd you come back so late?"
"I have a part-time job working at this jewellery store, and we were having promotions so business was a little busy." A little too much frosting got onto the fork, you can't help the little grimace on your lips as you shake it off.
Her eyes widen. "Eh? We can have part-time jobs?"
"Yeah, even Maki-chan and the rest of the second years got one."
You gesture towards the second year with your fork, tipping your head as you do. "Weren't you working at that one store that sells skincare or something?"
She clicks her tongue, "We quit already, now we're looking for some other spot."
"Huh? Wasn't the pay pretty decent?"
"Schedule started getting in the way, we just couldn't keep up with the rotations." Biting into a chip as if it personally offended her, she huffs and tips the bag over for Nobara to sneak a few.
It can't be helped if its like that, it isn't like you have the most reliable schedule either. You've already had to have one of your colleagues cover a few of your shifts when your missions run overtime.
Maki tilts the open bag of chips towards you, gesturing for you to take some with a little shake of the bag. As you reach over the table, she glances at your hand, seemingly flippant until she notices something.
"You really wear a lot of jewellery," A tinge of surprise lines the first year's words.
You can't help the small huff of humour that escapes your nose, "You just noticed?"
Nobara snatches your hand into hers before you can even touch a single chip, turning it over and over before she gestures for your other hand. Her eyes seem to gain some kind of glimmer when she fully realises how many rings are on your fingers, even going so far to fiddle with the bracelets on your wrist.
"I don't get to wear them around here really often, y'know with missions and handling with my kanabo," You laugh, continuing to let her manhandle you around. "And besides, would you trust someone wearing none to give you advice on what to buy?"
After what feels like forever, she finally puts your hands down as she snickers, "Fair, but I'm surprised that a crow hasn't pecked you bare yet though."
"Well that crow would have some good taste then."
Before you can get the chip you've been so temptingly offered, Maki interrupts your plans.
"When you did you get that one?" She points at the ring on your right hand.
"Hm? Ah, this one's new. Its part of the new collection so staff get to have a piece for free." You ferry your hand over once more, resigning yourself to your fate of being the two women's hand model. Despite this, you can't help the prideful whistle in your voice, "One of my colleagues saved this one for me, he said he knew I'd love it the moment he saw it."
Satisfied, she snickers, "He's got a good eye, looks half-way decent on you."
"Thanks." Rolling your eyes, a half-grin tugs on your lips.
You've thoroughly given up on ever getting some chips, so you return to your Mont Blanc with a clink of your fork. Its only when you're halfway finished that you noticed that Nobara is no longer next to Maki anymore, and that there is now a pair of arms wrapped very delicately around your shoulders. Looking up, she's mustered the most pitiful expression you've ever seen on her.
"Senpaiii, where do you work?" Her voice in uncharacteristically sweet, she even nuzzles into you as she struggles to contain her giggles, "Maybe I can come pick you up tomorrow and see what promotions are going on~"
"And I assume you'll be using a certain someone's card?"
"Its not like he notices!"
Her little fit pulls a small bout of laughter from you and Maki, and indulgently you can't help but to pet down her hair. She even goes so far as to poke at your dangling earrings, almost like a cat the way she seems to find something new on you to play with. You merely adjust your hair so she can continue.
A resigned sigh leaves your lips, "I'll be finishing late though and we might encounter some creeps, knowing where I work."
"Huh, even you encounter them?"
"Yeah? You can feel that slimy gaze at your back but you can't even do anything about it."
"Can't you take another route?" Nobara whines, resting her head against yours.
Taking a moment to think, you shake your head. "Not really? The other way back passes by a few bars and drunkards are a whole different nightmare."
Helpfully, Maki pipes up, "You could just beat them up."
The problem was you did do that once. It was late, you just finished your shift after a mid-season sale and you just wanted to get back to the dorms as quick as possible. Then some guy thought it would be a good idea to start following you as if you couldn't sense the sleaze dripping off of him. At that point, you got fed up and hid in a corner, punched him so hard you completely shattered his jaw and got brought in for police questioning all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
At the time, you were still in your first year and though you tried to play the clueless highschooler, that guy just wouldn't stop. In the end, you had to call Gojo to come bail you out and all you got out of that incident was to at least knock the guy unconscious next time.
His words, not entirely yours.
"Its better you don't, dealing with the police might be worse." Your vision glazes over for a moment as, your fork mindlessly tapping against the plate. "The one time I did Gojo-sensei had to come bail me out before my family found out."
"And he actually came?"
You snort when you hear the incredulous tone of your junior's voice, "I said I was going to eat all the stuff he made me get for him while I was out."
"Why am I not surprised," She deadpans.
Now that you think about it, its been a year since you've had another incident like that. Inexplicably, a dopey smile pulls across your lips.
Looking back at your dessert, you realise some of it has been swiped off and when you look up, you see Maki licking something off the pads of her fingers. Her face doesn't twist the way it usually does when she steals bites of your food, and she only grins when you fix her with look of helpless disappointment.
By the time you finish your Mont Blanc, Maki finished up her original bag of chip and has since gone digging through the cabinets for another pack. Nobara on the other hand has found her place by your side, having pushed your chairs together so she can lay on your lap in some off position. She's settled for scrolling through her social media feed while showing you and Maki anything that catches her eye.
Quietly, you pick up on a trail of cursed energy lingering outside the kitchen, tendrils of it paw at your ankles, pulling a suppressed hum of laughter from you. The corners of your lips tug up into a small smile, and before the door even opens, you already know who's about to step in.
"Yo." Nobara waves, not even looking up from her phone.
At least Maki has the decency to hazard a glance before she tosses a few snacks towards your direction, clearly intending for the first year on your lap to catch them. "You're finally back."
Yuta accepts these greetings with a small one of his own, a smile appears on his face as the dark circles beneath his eyes seem to lighten. He glides over to your side, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head as a greeting.
Seeing this, the girl once all but laying on you sits up straight, as if bristled the wrong way. A puff of laughter escapes your lips, a reaction that only earns you a sour look.
Just as you're about to say something, Maki steps in and tosses him a pack of rice crackers, probably from the half-open bag meant to be shared. Then just as quickly, she easily comes in between you and Yuta to come muss up your hair and scoop Nobara up. Without even waiting for the noise in your throat to even form, the two of them scamper towards the entrance.
"We're going to head back to our room, 'still got three more movies to finish," She grins.
With a helpless sigh, you can only shake your head and wave them off. "Have fun."
Now alone in the quiet kitchen, Yuta settles in the seat next to you. He's close, thighs and shoulders pressed against each other, and seamlessly, he closes the already small distance. The familiar smell of his clothes and skin fills your senses, a hint of something metallic beneath the comforting scent. Still, you pay no attention to it.
You're placed comfortably onto his lap, his arms wrapped around you as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
"Welcome back," You hum.
He murmurs into your skin, his warm breath pulling a soft breath from your lips, "I'm home."
"I'm guessing you didn't have any problems with your mission, since you could text me and all." Your indulgent tone only makes him bury himself further into you.
"It wasn't too bad, thank you for worrying about me."
The two of you remain like this for a while, with nothing but the sound of your breathing intertwining with his. Every so often you can hear footsteps approaching, but just as they get closer, they seem to disappear.
His natural warmth seeps into your body as a wave of sleepiness washes over you, your form easily melting into his. Blearily, you blink past your own exhaustion as your yawn stains your words, "You're still a student too, its so unfair you're busy all the time."
He peels himself off of you, his eyes soft with affection as he watches you curl into him. Your hand slips to the chair only for his to slot in, fingers interlocked as your other hand rests on his chest.
"I guess this is what being special grade means?" His voice is breathy with his amusement.
"They're working you like you have nothing else to do," You huff.
"You didn't even follow me when I left work today."
Tracing lines and shapes on his jacket, you can hear his heart quicken ever so slightly, feel his cursed energy curl around your ankles and your wrists in that gentle grasp. It always seem to leak out when he's with you— never menacingly— as if he can't get enough of you, as if just his hands alone aren't enough to have all of you.
Nestled close to him, you whine, "It felt so weird not having you watching over me from the rooftops."
"Sorry." Gently, his free hand fiddles with the hem of your sweater. Then as if realising something, he stops. "Ah, you noticed? Why didn't you say anything?"
You finally meet his soft gaze, and beneath the moonlight, not a hint of panic seems to be present in those peacock blue eyes. Deep in your chest, the warm feeling you've grown so accustomed to only seems to grow.
"At first I wanted to see whether you'd come down yourself, but you just stare at me the whole time."
With a playful push of your lips, your voice is stained by your mirth, "Are you why I haven't needed to knock out some creep in a back alley?"
You've long known why those late nights in the alleys haven't felt as oppressive, how he would somehow always get back to the dorms just a little later than you. It doesn't take a prodigy to put together what he's doing either, not when the signature of his cursed energy is both so foreign and distinct in those parts of the city.
It was time that belonged only to the two of you, walking beneath the dark night sky and amidst the towering buildings, the sensation of his devoted gaze and his presence.
So you simply never said anything.
His voice is gentle and in your ears, his heart has settled, yet the contrast between what he's saying and how he's saying it is simply too much.
"I can't help but be worried for you, you're so cute that anyone would want to follow you home."
"That wouldn't be good, you shouldn't be worried about things like that so its natural I'll take care of that for you."
A flush pools at the tip of your ears, and bubbling in the back of your throat, you can't help the giggle escaping your lips, "Won't you pick me up? I wanna show you off to my colleagues."
"I will, I promise I won't just watch next time." His grasp on your hand tightens, and with an doting smile, "We can even go to the ramen store you were telling me about."
Shooting up, the sudden enthusiasm that fills you softens the indulgence on his features. On instinct, you bring your hands together, bringing his along. "Really?"
Yuta only needs to nod, his smile impossibly fond.
In the afterglow of your momentary joy, you realise that he's taken to running his thumb along your fingers. The thin callouses on the pad of his finger ghost along the rings on your hand, gently tracing a line from your knuckles to your nails. His lips are pursed slightly, a light flush spreads from his cheeks as he continues to admire your hand.
"You're looking at my hands all weird." Unable to fully contain your amusement, your hand twitches at the light touches.
His thumb settles on the base of your ring finger, rubbing soothing circles on your skin. "I'm sorry, I just never realised how pretty your hands look when you have your rings on."
"Most guys would just say I'm wearing too many."
"But you like it, I can't hate something you like."
When he says these kinds of things so casually, you really wonder whether he even thinks before he decides to open his mouth.
Suddenly, his touch fleetingly leaves your skin and you realise its because he has now slipped his ring onto your ring finger. It doesn't quite fit your finger, being just a little too loose and bumping against your other rings. The silver reflects some of the streaming moonlight, light catches on the diamond in the very middle as a gentle current of cursed energy starts to flow into you.
Unable to fully hide your surprise, you laugh, "Rika-chan's going to get mad if you treat her token of love like this."
"She won't, she likes you way more than you think." He shakes his head, his voice helplessly indulgent.
"No way!"
Just as you're about to continue, a heavy presence starts to fill the room. Pooling on the kitchen floorboards, large white hands emerge from besides you as a form manifests behind Yuta. Above you looms the girl in question, your face placed perfectly in front of her mouth.
"Senpaiii~" Her voice is sweeter than usual, and in one swift move, the both of you find yourselves embraced by the cursed spirit.
Though your boyfriend seems to tense up, instinctively placing his hands on your waist, you bring yourself up to hold her face in your hands. Though you're not able to fully hold her, Rika doesn't seem to mind. "Hiii, did you have fun with Yū-chan today?"
"Mhm! Missed youuu!"
"I missed you too," Giggling, you can't help but to litter fleeting kisses on her, your actions pulling small noises of delight that ring in your ears. "You're still so cute, hehe."
Caught up in the rare occasion of seeing Rika, you busy yourself with showering her in affection. She's just as cute as she was a year ago, and you're willing to admit that you missed her just as much as you did Yuta when he was in Africa.
The hands on your waist guide you back down onto his lap, the feeling of the thin callouses on his palms brings a small shiver down your back. When you glance towards him, his expression is still patient, furrowing his brows for but a moment before a kind smile appears on his face.
"Rika, you must be tired after a long day, right?" He coaxes her all the while bringing you closer towards him. Quietly, he slipped his ring off your finger.
With a petulant whine, she cries as she nuzzles herself closer to you, "Noooo, don't wanna leave senpai."
He continues, "But senpai's had a long day, we can't play if we're all tired, right?"
Her grasp on the both of you loosens, then as if conceding, she slowly disappears back into the dark shadows. Before she can fully de-manifest, you reach out for her yet all you manage to get is a ghosting of her fingertips, the sharp feeling of her presence melting away.
Huffing, you playfully puff your cheeks. "Yū-chan, you're so mean! I haven't seen Rika-chan in so long!"
He doesn't say anything, simply looking up at you with a pitiful look and slight pout of his lips.
"You can't seriously be jealous of her?!" A choked breath of delight and disbelief leaves your lips as you feel him hold onto you tighter. You adjust yourself, cradling his face in your hands as you playfully squish his cheeks. Despite the redness of his face, he averts his gaze and continues to sulk.
He's way cuter than her when he gets like this, and a part of you thinks he's figured out this fixation of yours a long time ago.
Left with no other choice, you lean in to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Come on, she's seriously cute but you're my boyfriend."
Yuta's hand envelopes yours, he leans into your touch. Gently, he presses a kiss to your palm and his warm breath tickles the tender skin, coaxing a hitched breath from your lips.
"Yū-chan…"
His lips trail higher towards your fingertips until the tip of your ring finger presses against his lip. Before you can figure out what he's doing, he takes the finger into his mouth. Its warm, his tongue soft beneath your touch. As a shaky breath leaves your lips, the sudden sting of his teeth coming down onto the base of your finger rips a choked noise from your throat, "No way—!"
He doesn't let up, biting around the base until he pulls away to reveal a distinct ring of teeth marks, a thin trail of saliva breaks. You're quick to press your finger to your lips, trying to soothe the pain and lap up the remnants of his impulsive act.
"Sorry, did that hurt?" His eyes are crinkled together, an affectionate smile across his lips as he brings your hand back to his lips. Its as if he knows where the pain is, his tongue peeking out to lick the mark in apology. "I want to add to your collection one day but I want to get the size just right."
Though you fix him with a weak glare, the affection on his face merely softens as he murmurs, "So this will have to do for now."
"Pervert, if you knew it'd hurt why'd you do it?"
Your huffing only earns you a light laugh, and yet despite that, you can't help but to whine a little, "You could always just come into the store y'know? We sell pair rings too."
Peeling your hand away from him, you take the chance to return to your previous position, slipping your bitten hand into his and interlocking your fingers. A small surge of your cursed energy leaks out, twining itself around his ring finger.
"You always look so disappointed when you see them, and I don't want you to wear something you won't love." His voice is soft, murmured against your skin as he pecks another kiss to your forehead.
"That's because guys never know how to pick them! They somehow always pick some cheap looking design their girlfriends hate."
A breath of amusement leaves his lips, and when you meet his gaze, it feels as if he's only capable of indulging all your little whims and wants. He smiles, impossibly softer, "Then let's pick one out together, okay?"
"(l/n), the new chairs came in, could you get them in?" Your senior calls for you, holding the door open as she gestures towards the furniture in question.
The chairs are all stacked up on the street, about six of them that were meant to be carried in by the movers. Though a hint of a grimace threatens to break onto your face, you manage to reign it in. "Got it!"
You breeze past her, easily lifting the stack of chairs into your arms. Your ears catch on another voice, another one of your colleagues rushing towards you.
"Wait, let me help you—" He pants, a little out of breath.
Ishida pushes him aside, giving you more space so that you can bring everything in. "Don't bother, you look like you'll crumple trying."
"And you think (l/n) won't….?!"
"Look at you, all skin and bones." She laughs, poking at his arm with a mocking tease, "You'd be thrown around like a rag doll."
'Skin and bones' is an understatement, sometimes you think Higuchi must be a victim of childhood malnutrition. You can feel him staring into the back of your head as you arrange the chairs around the store, his eyes following your every move even when you retreat back to your post behind the counter.
Pointedly, you make a point to ignore his occasional glances to think about when Yuta is coming and how slow business has been today. Staring at your hands against wooden counters, a small sigh unconsciously leaves your lips. Every person that passes by only makes you perk up, only to realise that it isn't him.
The ring of the bell signals another customer, and when you glance towards the door, your heart picks up.
You beckon him over, a smile involuntarily spreading across your face. "Yū-chan, you're here!"
Yuta makes his way over, his hand resting on yours as you greedily absorb his familiar warmth. Ignoring the intense look aimed your way from besides you again, you bring his attention towards the display between you two.
"Ah these are the new arrivals."
As expected, he's diligent when it comes to his selection, since the first pair he points out is of two delicate bands, twisted into a mobius right in the very middle. Shyly, he notes, "This pair looks nice, it fits your current rings."
"But isn't it too thin for you? What if it breaks during missions?" You take it out of the display case, carefully placing it in the velvet tray on the counter. Upon inspecting the rings, his lips purse. As the two of you ponder over the current design, a different set catches your eye. "Look at this one, its cute right?"
"Try it on!"
"Mhm, it looks good especially when we're holding hands."
"Hehe, yeah it does, doesn't it?"
Looking at your joined hands, the rings glimmer beneath the bright lights, the red and blue crystal embedded on your respective rings peeking out. They fit perfectly, and with the thicker band, it means neither of you have to worry about it breaking on you mid-fight.
A dopey smile subconsciously spreads across your face as a warmth seems to flush at the very tips of your ears. Yuta's little breath of mirth and the gentle expression on his face urges your attention, and he hums, "Then let's get this one."
He carefully removes his ring to place it on the tray, and so do you. Just as you're about to head towards the counter, Higuchi stops you.
"(l/n), you're clocking out soon right?" He grins, his hands brushing over yours as he takes the tray. The light touch brushes over the teeth marks on your finger and you can't help the hitch in your breath. "Let me help you ring that up."
"Ah thanks." On instinct, you bow your head, the giddy expression on your face falling for just a moment. As you turn back to your boyfriend, your voice pitches higher in excitement, "Yū-chan, I'll be back soon, 'kay?"
"Mhm, take your time."
By the time you've packed up your belongings and sorted out your time sheet, Higuchi's weak complexion seems to have gotten worse, having already rung up your purchase. Belatedly, you notice your boyfriend's sleeves have been pushed back, revealing more of his forearms and the deep bite marks you left all over them.
Giddily, you sidle to his side and on instinct, he takes your bag. Carefully slung over his shoulder alongside his sword bag. A coldness spreads from your fingertips, his hand slips into yours and his tight grasp settles your heart.
"I'm done, thank you for today Higuchi-san." You give him a little bow and before you forget, you turn to your senior. "Ah, thank you for today too Ishida-san."
Ishida only laughs at your little display, having clearly watched the both of you the entire time. There's a mischievous edge to her expression and a part of you worries for what your next shift with her is going to be like. "Take care, have fun with your little boyfriend."
"Mhm, yeah." Compared to his earlier enthusiasm, Higuchi only takes a quick glance at the both of you before he averts his eyes.
Satisfied, a small sound of delight leaves your lips as you tug on your joined hands, urging Yuta to follow along. The rhythm of his footsteps after yours slow as he catches up with you, his amusement puffing out in little breaths.
"Hehe, hear that?" The corners of your eyes are crinkled, and as you enter the busy night streets, you feel him tug you closer towards him.
He smiles, "Yeah, let's go for dinner, alright?"
Your steps align into a one, steady rhythm, and though the autumn chill has started to settle in, your face flushes with warmth, "Mhm! There's a place that does fish sets, and they do free unlimited rice refills!"
"Oh and there's a dorayaki stall just nearby too!"
You pull up your phone to search for the restaurant, scrolling through your listings and showing it off to him. His eyes trail to your screen, the sticky feeling of his gaze leaves your form and suddenly some part of you deflates.
"That sounds good, is it really unlimited refills?" He only takes a brief moment to glance through the menu.
"It is! I made sure to check and lots of reviews mention that," With a half-grin, you playfully swing your joined hands. "You always end up hungry after we visit these kinds of restaurants so I made sure."
Yuta's hand squeezes yours tighter, a doting smile blooms across his lips,"You didn't have to do that, I don't mind going a bit hungry."
"You shouldn't! You should always eat 'till you're full!"
"Seriously, it isn't like you're broke," Your brows furrow together as you huff. "Mhm, well even if you are, your senpai makes good money y'know."
Shaking his head, his voice has a helpless tinge, "No way, when it comes to things like paying, senpai should just worry about having fun."
As the familiar term of address reaches your ears, a thought surfaces in your mind.
"Are you going to keep calling me that when we're married?" You hum, your words broken up by your own mirth.
There's a teasing glimmer in his eyes, and then as if to think, he hums, "Ah, then would (y/n)-chan be better?"
The way he says your name is gentle, too affectionate and heavy despite his light tone, and in that very instant, your heart drums in your very ears as your ears rush with blood.
"At least warn me next time! You're so unfair! Unfair!"
Yuta only watches you as your steps grow faster, the little laugh that slips past his lips as you pull him along tighter. In just a few steps, he catches up to you and the feeling of a kiss to the side of your head only seems to make your heart beat impossibly faster. "You're really too cute."
All you can do is huff, and yet you can't help it. Your body is always so honest when you're with him, its no wonder that joy seems to so easily bleed into your life.
You don't even need to think about what your future holds. With him, with the feelings he gives you, you don't need to wonder at all.
based on that one question he answered in the new manga interview or whatever it was. everything he says feels like a curveball
gn! reader, potentially ooc sae
divider by @/pixopix !
everyone knows itoshi sae as a stoic-faced, brutally blunt, and cold person. as his partner… you kind of agree.
look, it's not that he doesn't show you he loves you or anything like that — he does! words were never his forte. unless they were used to point out someone's flaws, but that's beside the point. when it comes to compliments, they were not his strong suit. you knew what you were getting into when you started dating him, so this was never something that bothered you.
however…
it is a little very unsettling to see him watching a compilation of silly cat videos on the tv like he's analysing a football match.
the poor cat on the tv was meowing its little heart out in protest of being removed from its owner's bag, and while you were cooing quietly to yourself, sae was just staring at the screen like he was going to give pointers on how to better remove a cat from a bag.
this isn't the first instance of this borderline troubling behaviour, not at all.
another instance was when you were both watching some comedy show on the tv (again, because sae would rather score an own goal than actually go to a live one), and while you were busy laughing so hard your stomach hurt, there was not a single peep from sae.
in fact, when you glanced over, his face was perfectly blank.
just what is going on inside his head?!
admittedly, you're no expert on sae, as much as you wish you were. but that enigma of a man was like a ten-thousand piece puzzle where the other half of it just went missing, so there's no way of completing it at all.
that leads you to where you are now, lying in your shared bed, and just staring at him like a creep. his bangs were down (a big win for you), his unfairly long underlashes rested on his cheeks, teal eyes so clear you could see yourself reflected in them, and — wait, you could see yourself in them?
"you have a staring problem." sae's bluntness knows no rest even to his own partner, calling you out without hesitation. getting caught staring, not that you were really being subtle about it, sends warmth rushing to your cheeks as a pout forms on your lips.
"you're mean," you huff, turning on your back. "can't i stare at my boyfriend?"
"when you start to stare, you're planning something." he sighs, still judging you.
"i was thinking, actually…"
"nothing good, i'm sure."
"i'm starting to think you only like making fun of me."
"mm, yeah." had your ears not been on high alert, you would've missed it. it, of course, refers to your boyfriend laughing.
"wait." you sit up with startled movements, staring at him with surprise. "did you just laugh?"
"so?"
"it's just, well, i don't think i've seen or heard you laugh before…! like… when we watched those cat videos, or those comedy specials, you've never laughed, not even once! i was starting to think you didn't know how to…"
somehow, it's even creepier seeing him actually laugh. it's not full-blown or anything, a very normal laugh by any means, but it really did feel odd.
"who says i need my face to laugh, silly? i can laugh in my heart."
is this really your boyfriend???
"but when it's you… i'll laugh with my face, too, since you're so curious."
itoshi sweet talker sae, there'll be a day you get back at him!
…but that day is not today. right now, you'll giggle and kick your feet and cling to him like your life depends on it.
