The earth does not belong to us. we belong to the earth. We are the mere travelers made of star stuff and dust, were merely adopted by the kind mother earth. Born from the soil of earth let's not burn the earth. We all come from the same seed growing in the same garden, drinking from the same rain so why put boundaries in vain??. We may come from the stars but we are cradled by our mother earth.
Written by me. Aka Mistiaxe
Feel free to share any of your problems or thoughts with me my dear honeybees.🐢
the hot june sun was beating down on your back, and your feet were dead from the tens of thousands of steps from that day. you were only two days in out of your three month long trip—if this was how it was going to be the entire time, you were truly going to die.
your eyes were glued to the tiles on the streets, not realizing you had bumped into someone until you felt a dull pain on your head. “oh shit—i’m so sorry.” you stammered, phone and earbud case falling out of your pockets.
you groaned, crouching down to reach for your dropped items, but someone handed them to you before you could even blink. you glanced up, meeting deep burgundy—nearly black—eyes. “thank you.” you met messy and long maroon hair and a deadpan expression.
“i’m in love with you.”
you nearly choked, blinking rapidly at the words that had just exited the redhead’s mouth. yet he still looked as if this was just another day in the office, expression unchanging. your entire face burned, eyes wide. passerby probably didn’t know you were going through every single chemical reaction possible internally.
“oh, uh, i, um, what?” you asked, mind malfunctioning. you were still crouching down awkwardly, as was the stranger. yes, the stranger. you had no idea who the hell this guy was, nor did you know his age or his name or anything about him.
you stood up stiffly, and the stranger did as well, wind blowing in his maroon hair perfectly. he looked like a model. “as i said, i’m in love with you.” his gaze was observant, quietly unraveling every feature of yours, every inch of your body. yet there was a tiny glimmer in his eye that told you this was more than just logic.
love at first sight, maybe? cute, but you weren’t interested. you were here for three months, and you were here to lock in (to eat all of the french pastries). plus, you had to go home anyway. you didn’t want heartbreak. “no thanks, i’m not interested, sorry.”
he raised an eyebrow. how the hell is this surprising to him? “oh, i see.” you almost let out a sigh of relief; maybe he’ll back off now. then you could forget this hot, tall, nice guy you met in france randomly.
“guess i’ll have to try harder to convince you then.”
excuse you?
your jaw went slack—how the hell were you supposed to respond to this? “no, genuinely, i don’t think you understand. i’m a tourist. i’m here for three months and i’m gone.” your french wasn’t perfect, but hopefully, you got the message across. “plus, i don’t know you. like, at all.”
at that point, a few passerby stopped to stare, noticing your discomfort. the stranger tilted his head. “i’m vivien hugo. i’m seventeen, a member of the french u20 football team, and i currently play for pxg’s u20 team, though i’ll be transferring to play for arsenal soon.”
so this guy was famous as well? and likely rich? the thought of going home was getting farther by the minute with hugo in front of you.
“and i’m also your future husband, so i suppose it is important for you to know me better.” goddamnit, did this guy have any friends growing up? you were already red in your cheeks, but at his comment, your entire face was probably redder than his hair.
“sure, buddy. whatever you say.” you retorted, furrowing your eyebrows. “nice to meet you hugo. you live around here or something?” you were practically the same age, but since he was a pro player, he probably had his own living quarters.
“i do. i’m guessing you stay at a hotel?” he asked. you nodded.
“i’m not telling you which one.”
“i wasn’t interested in knowing anyway. we’ll meet again even without conventionally necessary information.
this guy was pissing you off. “alright. see you then, hugo.” paris was a city with far too many people for you both to meet again. that’d be ridiculous. with that, you turned your back on him and walked away.
of course, you just had to be wrong.
because when you left your hotel just two days later, your head ended up making impact with yet someone yet again. your earbud case and phone ended up falling out of your pockets again.
“i’m so sor—wait,” your eyes widened, mouth opening wide. “hugo?!” no way. there was absolutely no way such a coincidence could ever exist. and yet you were met with his familiar burgundy hair.
“oh, you’re staying at this hotel. my apartment complex is actually right next to it.” he pointed at the building next door, which you hadn’t even realized was an apartment complex until he said so. no fucking way.
“guess we’re fated after all. not that i doubted it in the first place.” hugo stated, picking up your case and phone casually.
“oh my days,” you breathed. “how?” you hated how steady his gaze was while you were having a meltdown. this guy, this creep, was stuck around you now!
“destiny.”
“not a good reason…”
“you can choose not to believe it, but we’re fated for each other.” hugo replied. “i was actually looking for you, but i suppose destiny decided to be kind and drop you right in front of me.”
you pressed your lips into a thin line. “okay, what is it?”
“you’re traveling alone, i assume. you’re also only here for three months, so i was just thinking that you might need a guide. i only have practice for a few hours five days a week anyway. it doesn’t matter to me.” hugo tilted his head.
“you want me to accept a stranger’s offer?” you asked. “sorry, i don’t have the survival instincts of a walnut. i barely know you.”
“it’s your decision. but just so you know, i am a celebrity by technicality. i have a reputation to uphold. i can’t just kidnap you or mistreat you. that’d be bad for the both of us.” hugo said. you had to admit, he did have logic in his argument. “again, your choice.”
your budget didn’t allow you to find a tour guide, so this was really your best shot. and despite stranger danger, you had to admit that your gut and instinct really sensed noting off about hugo.
“fine.” you sighed. “sure. i’ll do it. you can be my tour guide or my helper or whatever you wanna call it.”
“that’s a deal.”
you hated to admit it, but vivien was good company.
he was blunt and could be preachy at times, but the thing was that he was completely aware of the times he was being annoying…and he completely owned his it as well. you had to admit, he was pretty funny, even if his humor was unintentional most of the time.
when the final day came, vivien decided to bring you on a walk. it was the evening of a weekday, and the park was quiet. the sun was setting softly, and the loudest noise was a small breeze and crickets.
you sat on a swing, meanwhile vivien stood against the swing’s metal beam. you didn’t want to speak. what the hell were you supposed to say to him? you were probably never going to see him ever again.
“well?” vivien began.
“what do you mean, ‘well?’” you asked. he looked at you as if you got 1+1 wrong.
“do you love me?” he asked. you choked on air. “i told you when we first met that i was in love with you. that hasn’t changed, not at all. do you love me back?”
your cheeks dusted pink. “i, well,” you did. you loved him, definitely more than just a crush would ever account for. he was practically your only non-digital communication for the past three months.
but this was bound to end.
and you didn’t want to leave.
you didn’t answer, instead standing up from the swing and walking towards him. when you were in front of vivien, he tilted his head—which was perfect for what you were about to do next.
because your hands cupped both of his cheeks, and you brought his lips to yours without hesitation.
vivien reacted within milliseconds, bringing his hands to your waist and only pulling away to catch for his breath. his cheeks were scarlet, his mouth open for air, and pupils dilated, this was the most emotional you’d ever seen vivien.
and he was so, utterly, completely in love.
“stay here,” he whispered. “just stay with me. i can cover costs for everything. i’ll do anything for you if you just don’t leave.” his gaze softened. “marry me if you need to. just don’t go.”
a bitter smile made its way onto your face. “vivien,” you grazed your thumb across his cheek. “i wish i could, but you know, i’ve got a life to live. and i’ve got senior year waiting for me back home, and graduation, and my friends, and i’ve got so much ahead of me. i love you, vivien. i really do. but this was never meant to last long anyway. if someday we meet again, but in a place where we could be together for longer, i promise i’ll marry you.”
you didn’t expect to be met with dejection, and that wasn’t what you received in the least. because vivien looked more determined than ever.
“that’s a promise. no take backs.”
you kissed his cheek. “no take backs.”
even two years later, you can still vividly remember your plane ride home.
you didn’t cry in front of vivien. you forced yourself not to, not when he dropped you off at the airport or when he stayed with you all the way until you entered security check and he had to leave.
but you were absolutely bawling your eyes out on the plane ride. and it was pathetic, to get so emotional over a 3-month summer situationship over a boy you’d probably never see again.
but there was just something about vivien that you couldn’t get over.
senior year went and left faster than your previous summer. midterms, finals, winter break, midterms, ap testing, sat, act, finals, graduation.
the next summer just wasn’t the same without vivien. rather than go out every day and enjoy the sun, you instead rotted in bed and just scrolled on social media. you shouldn’t be so hung up over him. you shouldn’t even remember him.
yet you did.
you applied to 12 colleges, all within your home country except for one: a university in london.
though i’ll be transferring to play for arsenal soon.
you still remembered vivien’s words. you didn’t want to search him up; you didn’t want to see him without being able to love him. but if there was even the slightest chance that you could get into that university in london, then maybe, just maybe, fate was real.
the university in london was the only one you were accepted into.
so you packed your bags and left. only your freshman year of college was just lonely. you didn’t see vivien. not a single time. no hearing his name in the streets, no seeing him on billboards, nothing. and sure, you kept your grades up, but you were in an entirely different country with no friends.
even though your college was impossibly close to the arsenal headquarters, you were never once able to get tickets to any matches. they just sold out too quickly. football fans were scary.
you didn’t return home for the summer between freshman and sophomore year of college.
your fate was determined in the middle of summer.
the hot june sun was beating down on your back, and your feet were dead from the tens of thousands of steps from that day. you were only two days in out of your three month long summer break—if this was how it was going to be the entire time, you were truly going to die.
your eyes were glued to the tiles on the streets, not realizing you had bumped into someone until you felt a dull pain on your head. “oh shit—i’m so sor—“
this scene felt strangely familiar.
when you looked up, every single one of your dreams manifested.
because vivien hugo looked at you as if he saw an angel, and your earbud case and phone were the prayers that led him to you.
I got a lot of free time but no creativity 🦭 cuz I'm rotting another state for my summer vacation. The heat is killing me bruh it feels like 11 am at freaking 6 am what are we doing!?. The climate change is crazy. Because over 3000+ people here died from over the heat.
synopsis:- they kind scared you off without knowing
.Characters:- Rin itoshi, Sae itoshi, Vivian Hugo (separately)
˖𓍢ִ໋❀Rin itoshi ৻ꪆ
Rin thought he was well prepared. Keyword: thought. He was expecting compliments from you, after all Rin had prepared everything for this date. He got the movie tickets reserved, booked a nice place so there would be privacy for you guys while you ate, and even styled himself up. All because this guy missed you after not seeing you for so long.
But at this point, he genuinely didn't know whether the universe actively hated him or if it had just forgotten to grant him an ounce of luck in romance.
Initially, everything was going perfectly. You met up at the designated spot, walked to the theater together, and he finally got to see you in a breathtakingly cute outfit. Inside, he was absolutely giddy but outside he remained entirely composed. While patiently waiting for you to notice his efforts, which you finally did halfway through the movie. You shifted closer to him, reaching up to gently brush his bangs away from his face with a soft smile.
"There, now it's perfect. Got a proper view of your eyes along with this..." You evil little thing whispered those specific words in his ear, and your eyes totally checked him out.
Rin froze. His brain completely short-circuited right then and there, any lingering focus on the movie instantly evaporating. He wasn't complaining, though that fact made entirely obvious by the way the tips of his ears turned a vivid crimson.
Everything was going perfectly until it wasn't.On the way to the restaurant, you were walking side-by-side down a crowded sidewalk, animatedly telling him a story while he listened intently. You were so focused on speaking that your foot caught on a uneven patch of concrete, causing you to lose your balance. Your body pitched forward.
It happened so fast. Rin, despite his elite reflexes, didn't have enough time to process the trajectory properly. His hands shot forward with the sole intention of catching you-one hand reaching for your arm, the other aiming for your waist. But he miscalculated the distance.
Smack.
A loud, horrifyingly clear sound echoed through the street. His open palm had landed squarely against your face.
The worst part? Time seemed to stop. Both of you just froze in place. Rin was left standing there awkward and rigid, holding your arm with one hand while his other palm remained plastered over your features, effectively holding your half-fallen body suspended in mid-air. Passersby stared. Some slowed their pace, while a few completely stopped just to gawk at the bizarre scene.
To make a mortifying situation infinitely worse, a random guy in the crowd gasp "Wait, isn't that Rin Itoshi from Blue Lock"
As soon as the name left the stranger's mouth, a dozen other heads snapped over, and phones immediately started slipping out of pockets. Feeling yourself dying of firsthand embarrassment, you didn't even look at Rin. You simply grabbed his wrist, ripped his hand off your face, and made a desperate run for your life, dragging him behind you.
When you both finally stopped and you collapsed into a secluded, empty alleyway, you tried catching your breath; while Rin just stood against the wall, completely reevaluating every life decision that had ever led him to this exact moment.
Then you turned around, now facing him while trying your best to look composed, but the little bit of blood that flowed from your nose and the twitching of your lips said otherwise.
You wiped your nose, staring at him blankly. "Thank you for trying. But next time, please, just let me hit the pavement."
Rin Itoshi had never wanted to disintegrate on the spot so badly in his entire life.
𐙚⋆.˚Sae itoshi 𐙚🧸ྀི
One of Sae Itoshi's biggest flaws was that he could not, for the love of God, filter what was on his mind. That exact habit had landed him right here: with you sitting on the absolute edge of the cushions, drilling a hole into the side of his face with a look that was roughly ten parts disbelief, forty parts wariness, thirty parts concern for his psychological stability, and twenty parts pure unadulterated judgment.
It had all started over a stupid piece of jewelry. Sae had only agreed to fasten your necklace because he had sat there in agonizing, aesthetic torment, watching you fumble with the clasp for five literal minutes. Logically, you shouldn't have asked him. You were the assistant to his primary agent, which technically made Sae your superior. But the boundary lines between you two had blurred into something far more intimate during late-night strategy sessions, and your fingers were cramping too badly to care about professional decorum.
Sae stared down at the tangled silver chain while you swept your hair over one shoulder to give him a clear view. But instead of executing the task with his usual mechanical efficiency his gaze stalled. His eyes drifted from the metal hook to the bare expanse of your neck. The pink haired boy tilted his head a fraction of a degree his eyes narrowing as if staring at a confusing piece of game tape.
An almost inaudible "oh" slipped past his lips. If the room hadn't been dead silent, you would have missed it entirely.
"Hm? Everything alright?" you asked, shifting.
Though Sae didn't bother answering. He clicked the clasp into place with a practiced snap, but his fingertips lingered against your skin, brushing the sensitive dip of your spine a beat longer than necessary. You felt your skin flush hot under the deliberate pressure before he finally withdrew his hand, turning on his heel to claim his spot on the couch as if he hadn't just completely destabilized your heart rate.
You stood frozen for a second, blinking at his back. Why does he have to be so impossibly unreadable?
Realizing you wouldn't get a straight answer out of him, you grabbed your iPad and slid onto the opposite end of the couch. While Sae booted up the TV to indulge in his daily obsession with match analysis, you tried to focus on your own work.
But then, you felt it. That heavy, calculating weight of his attention. Every few seconds, Sae's eyes would flick away from the screen and drop down toward your lap or more specifically, your hand.. You blinked, completely unsure of why he was staring at your fingers. Was he trying to be romantic? No, if that were the case, wouldn't he just look at your face? Was he judging you? That didn't feel entirely right either. What was he doing?.
What?" you asked, feeling self-conscious.
"It's breakable," he stated half-mindedly while his eyes was glued to your wrist.
"What?" Now you were genuinely puzzled. Was he talking about your iPad? It wasn't that old.
"Your wrist is as breakable as your neck," Sae declared stating it as if it were a scientific fact.
"Excuse me?!" You stared at him in utter confusion like Where on earth had that come from?.
The truth was, Sae's brain was currently suffering from a severe system error. When he had looked at your neck, the sheer vulnerability of it had short-circuited his usual cold indifference. It was soft, small, and entirely unprotected against the world. For the first time in his life, a strange, possessive urge had flared up inside him-a desire to trace the delicate line from your shoulder to your nape, to shield it, to hold it.
But Sae didn't know how to do "cute." He didn't do soft declarations. So, his brain translated a deeply protective, overwhelming rush of affection into the most threatening sentence possible:
"I want to see exactly how much force it takes to break them," he added, his tone entirely casual.
He stopped speaking right there, perfectly satisfied. In his own mind, he had just articulated a beautiful, logical compliment about how precious and delicate you were, completely oblivious to the fact that he had left out every ounce of human context.
The terrifying sentence hung in the air like a literal death threat, causing you to instantly scramble backward, burying yourself into the furthest corner of the couch, as far away from his deadly, beautiful hands as physically possible.
☣ ʋιʋιαɳ ԋυɠσ｡𖦹°‧
Unlike the itoshi brothers, Vivian Hugo didn't even need to do anything explicit for you to realize the guy was seriously creepy-not in a weird, pathetic way, but rather in a terrifyingly intense way. It all started when that 187 cm giant marched right up to you and confessed his undying affection out of nowhere. Like, literal nowhere.
You were minding your own business, buying pastries from your usual bakery, when suddenly his massive frame cast a shadow over you. He stood there, staring down with a completely blank, unreadable face.
You looked up, wondering if this absolute stranger needed something from you.
The words that left his mouth next left you entirely dumbfounded.
"Yep. That's what I thought," he started. You blinked in confusion.
"Now I know that I am in love with you,"
he stated, his tone as flat and casual as someone announcing that the sky was blue.
You just stared at him like Is this guy actually okay in the head? You didn't even know if you should ask for clarification, considering he seemed to be talking more to himself than to you. Deciding to do what any sane, rational human being would do under threat of a public anomaly, you grabbed your pastry bag and tried to slip away.
Well, you tried. But success wasn't in the cards today. His large hand clamped gently but unyieldingly around your wrist, and in the next millisecond, his breath hit the shell of your ear.
"You didn't give me your name."
His breath near your ear and his voice sent a violent wave of goosebumps down your spine. Your body quite literally shuddered and on pure reflex you shoved your free hand against his chest to push him away...an entirely useless effort, considering the man had the physical build of a literal battering ram.
"Excuse me?" you gasped.
"Your name."
"Why?"
"Because I should at least know the name of the person I am going to spend the rest of my life with. This is the first step of us getting to know each other. My name is Vivian. Vivian Hugo."
You were speechless, to say the absolute least. You stared up at him with knitted brows and a parted mouth, frantically trying to decipher if this guy was attempting to flirt and was just fundamentally terrible at it, an actual stalker, or if he had simply lost his mind. Who says things like that with such a nonchalant face?
"Um, sorry. I don't give my name to strangers."
"We are not strangers," he replied a bit too quickly, leaning his massive upper body down toward you, his eyes dead serious. "I mean, at this exact moment we are, but we will be far more than that in the future. We are destined."
You had seen people flirt in reality before, but you had never seen someone bypass social boundaries in a way that left you so utterly flabbergasted. You could feel the burning stares of the customers entering the bakery. You were actively dying of social execution.
Somehow, you managed to wrench your wrist free and leveled him with the nastiest side-eye you had ever delivered in your life.
"Go fish somewhere else, bro," you snapped, before bolting out the door. Sure he was exceptionally handsome, tall, and carried a ridiculous, athletic physique, but you were a firm believer in stranger danger.
At first, you thought you were slick-that you had shut him down while radiating pure diva energy. But as the days passed, your feet landed hard back on Earth with a terrifying realization: This guy was absolutely everywhere.
You went for a casual walk, and you spotted his broad shoulders walking exactly thirty steps ahead of you. You went to a restaurant for dinner, and he was already seated across the room. You came back late from your coaching classes, and somehow, you spotted him near the gym area of your own residential complex. The absolute worst part was that he wasn't even technically tailing you, considering he was always there first. It felt like you were the one stalking him, leaving you with zero ground to actually confront him.
To top it all off, every single time his eyes landed on you, he would deliver the same mechanical sequence. "Oh." "Good evening." "Good morning." "Your shoulders look more tense than usual today; remember to apply a heat pad." "Nice."
And that nonchalant tone? It made you want to strangle him. He looked completely and irritatingly normal for someone who had casually confessed to you. while you were actively losing sleep over him, frantically typing his name into Google because you had seen him in his jersey before.. great now you are the one fishing..
"So... he's a professional football player.
A genius. So good that he's literally in the World New Generation XI... and you wants me to believe he's into me? Sure, and pigs fly, too," you groaned into your pillow, trying and failing to get your beauty sleep with this massive new information piece in hand.
"Remember, no guy is worth losing sleep over," you chanted to yourself. But all of your carefully constructed composure shattered when you spotted him yet again at a trendy new ice cream parlor you had decided to try on a whim. As usual, he spotted you instantly and you spotted him, considering someone that tall and bulky was impossible to miss in a crowded room.
He wasn't alone this time, though. There were two other athletes accompanying him.
Armed with your new internet knowledge, you decided it was best to simply pretend he didn't exist. You would ignore his presence until he went away. I mean, what else were you supposed to do?
Sure, a tiny, buried part of you felt somewhat nice seeing him every day, but now that you knew just how famous and elite he was, you didn't know how to process it. You were entirely convinced this bizarre routine would come to a crashing end eventually. He wasn't going to stay in the area forever, and half the time, he didn't even sound that interested, always greeting you with that casual, robotic tone. So why should you get used to it? Why were you getting attac-wait. What were you even thinking?!
You let out a silent, internal groan as you realized where your thoughts were heading, feeling a massive headache coming on. You couldn't believe you were getting this worked up over a guy who didn't even know you name.
'*fuck pretty people and their pretty privile--"
Suddenly, your frantic inner monologue was cut short by a heavy hand landing squarely on your shoulder. Your tense muscles relaxed instantly without you even realizing it.
When you turned around, there he was: the burgundy-haired culprit behind every single one of your problems over the past few weeks. He was staring down at you with... was that a hint of concern?
"You look troubled," he stated.
You stared back at him for a few agonizing seconds before letting out a defeated sigh.
"Yeah. Hello to you, too," you mumbled. "Here with your teammates, I suppose?" you asked, gesturing toward the two acquaintances he had left by the counter, whose eyes were practically boring holes into your back.
"Uh-huh. Charles wanted to grab ice cream before training. You didn't say what is troubling you."
"Nothing... just..." you mumbled, your voice dropping. Vivian just stood there, tilting his head at you like a curious bird, which made you sigh again. Better just get over this.
"It just startles me that you are everywhere I go," you admitted, looking at the flavors listed on the menu overhead, airing out the thoughts that had been plaguing you. "Like, I don't know how to feel about you being all nonchalant and greeting me while I'm stuck here wondering how I should react. Our first interaction was rather... unique, I guess?"
"Oh. It's destiny bringing us together."
His deadpan reply irked you for real. "Destiny, sure," you said sarcastically, turning your gaze to him. "Can you seriously be serious with me? I'm genuinely not in the mood for a brushed-off conversation, especially with someone who makes me feel... something I can't even put a name to."
"I am serious." Vivian's sharp brows furrowed ever so slightly. "I firmly believe you are my destiny in love. It is not something that sounds fictional to me, but rather a calculation because I have felt and seen a precise connection from the day I saw you. And you are feeling all these emotions isn't that a sign my theory was right? I observed you when I visited that specific area. Your movements, your body language, your surface-level behavior, your voice.You have small habits, like humming when you are waiting for something, or looking at your surroundings and lighting up when a pigeon sits close to your window seat. It matches the exact, optimal traits I am looking for in a partner."
Holy yap, was your first thought. But you also couldn't deny the sudden, intense tingling sensation blooming in your chest at his words. Biting the inside of your cheek, you quickly looked away because his gaze felt incredibly heavy, almost drowning.
"So... just because I match your ideal partner traits?"
"Nope. It's not just the traits. I could not have approached you initially just because your personality, looks, or data were a match to what I needed considering i could need more information to analyse our match. But I couldn't wait, I'm a rather patient guy but i couldn't help myself after a few days of observing you, It is because you are something that I want. Honestly, your height and physical build do not exactly match the genetic conditions required for our future children to have compatible traits to become elite athletes. But that is their destiny, not ours to worry. You are someone who made my heart race in a mismatched space from the moment I saw you. And every day I observed you, the desire to be near you increased bit by bit"
You seriously didn't know whether you should be deeply impressed or profoundly offended at the calculation of your future children's athletic careers. Like bruh do you even know her name for you to start naming your children..
"So, it is not just because you are a fitting piece, but because we are fated. Otherwise, why would you always be exactly where my eyes land?."
Once again, you were completely speechless. This damn burgundy-haired dude had your entire face and neck flushing a brilliant crimson. "Uh... I see... You seem to believe a lot in the whole destiny thing."
"Yep. I-"
His little excited words were violently cut off by a loud voice yelling from across the parlor.
"Oi, Hugo! Training is about to start! I already finished my three-scoop ice cream! Stop talking to your girlfriend and comeeeee on!"
For the first time since you met him, you saw a tiny, genuine crack in Vivian's nonchalant facade-a subtle flicker of irritation that made you involuntarily giggle. Okay, he's kind of cute, you thought.
"Ah, it seems I took up your sweet time, causing you to miss out on your own ice cream," you teased, a hint of playfulness bleeding into your tone as you looked back at him. "Maybe I should make up for it with a proper ice cream date... or should I?"
The teasing shift caused Vivian to instantly rip his gaze away from the shouting of the yellow-haired boy and lock his eyes back onto you. He stared down at you for a few quiet seconds. This time, you didn't back down; you simply tilted your head, refusing to break eye contact.
Inside, Vivian Hugo's highly logical brain entirely forgot how to function for a single, chaotic moment. Then he nodded his head with absolute, deadpan gravity.
"Yes. You should."
You held out your palm. "So. Your number?"
A/n:- wanted to end hugo's with a the reader regretting her decision after learning the fact hugi read blank book 🥹 but guss happy hugo happy life🦭.
Suo desperately pushing the class rep role onto Sakura in the early chapters is so much funnier now like when everyone was expecting him to be the obvious choice he took one look at Sakura and said oh thank god. a sacrifice
“So I’ll get the cheeseburger with—…am I allowed to get fries?”
Rin’s eyes slowly drifted away from the waiter, to meet yours that peered up at him. The boy was quiet for a moment as he looked at you, a furrow in his brows akin to disgust.
“Huh?”
“I said, am I allowed to get fries today” You repeated, trying to bite back your laugh as the waiter’s eyes darted between the two of you.
Rin’s nonchalance certainly didn’t help. His expression didn’t give away any surprise, any humour, but rather pure annoyance. Rin thought he was beyond used to your antics by now, though you never failed to surprise him.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions.” He scoffed, looking away from you as your eyes dramatically dropped to the floor. “So I can’t get fries?…okay..” You whispered coyly, biting back a laugh as you heard your boyfriend outwardly groan.
“She’ll get the large fries, make sure they’re extra burnt.”
ITOSHI Sae
“Can I get the fries instead of the salad this time?”
Sae spares you half a glance, his face curling in pure disgust—whether it was at your question, or the prospect of fries themselves, you were unsure.
“Fries are disgusting for you.” He commented, nearly shivering.
Your lips tugged into a feigned pout, looking to him dejectedly. “I guess you’re right…you don’t want me getting fat..” You huffed with a dramatic sigh as people slowly turned to stare.
Sae knew his manager would never let him live this down when it was eventually posted all over social media. His fingers lifted to massage his temple in annoyance as he looked down.
“Get the damn fries and stop trying to get me canceled.” Sae scoffed before he handed you his card and walked off to avoid further embarrassment.
MIKAGE Reo
“Am I allowed to get a milkshake today?”
Reo’s head may as well have snapped off with how quickly it turned to you, his eyes wide in astonishment as he stumbled over his words for a moment. His eyes would occasionally dart towards the cashier who looked beyond concerned, leaning slightly towards you as Reo failed to respond.
“Are you okay?” The woman whispered, but before you could reply Reo cut you off. “You can get two milkshakes! Even three if you want, you should also get fries. All on me, of course. Black card by the way.” Reo opened his wallet, in a panic as the cashier put in the order.
Reo left the woman a hefty tip to apologize for your antics.
NAGI Seishiro
“Can I get the fries this time..?”
Nagi was already leaning on you as you ordered for the two of you, his arm slumped lazily over your shoulders as he pressed half his weight against you.
The boy was already tired of this interaction before it began and as he lifted his head to glance down at you, you made sure to flinch dramatically.
“Excuse me—“ The cashier looked between the two of you in concern before the tall boy pressed his head back into your hair. “Stop being a hassle, I already told you to get whatever you want…”
SHIDOU Ryusei
“Am I allowed to get a milkshake tonight?..”
You asked hesitantly, eyes darting up at Shidou who’s lips curled upwards in pure amusement. A part of you was certain he’d seen this prank before by the look in his eyes as he slipped his hands out of his pockets to cross over his chest.
“I dunno…do you deserve fries?”
“I behaved this week” You added, physically biting back a laugh as the waiters eyes darted back towards where their manager was.
“Nah you haven’t, only I get fries she can eat my left overs.”
It seemed the staff didn’t take to the joke in Shidou’s words, because the two of you got kicked out of the restaurant.
itoshi sae x bubbly reporter! reader 𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚
Itoshi Sae thinks you’re annoying. That’s what you have come to believe anyway.
Being a new, young sports reporter who’s still green behind the ears wasn’t half as easy as some may think. But you didn’t join because you wanted it to be, you joined because it had always been a point of intrigue to know what someone was thinking when playing the game of a lifetime.
And to your surprise, it was going far better than you had initially thought. Because with the grace of tiktok and a sense of humour the internet came to love you, which meant your dreams weren’t just dreams, they were reality.
Clips of interviews went viral, and your follower count on tiktok hit a gleaming 700k within the few months since you graduated university and officially ran head first into working.
But that wasn’t even the most astounding part about your new life, what truly was astonishing to you was how the athletes came to like you to; and you were sure that was, in part, why their fans came to love you as well.
You didn’t question them as machines meant to entertain, you questioned them as humans. And that recognition of one’s humility is all it takes for it to be returned.
For everyone but one man.
Itoshi Sae.
Most athletes you interview genuinely enjoy the brief chats, laughing and joking along with you, keeping a lighthearted and entertaining conversation for fans. Except for Sae.
Itoshi Sae never laughed at your jokes, never cracked a smile, and never seemed to purposely return a joke. Even as you tried to laugh with him after his blunt sarcasm it was never returned.
So to say you felt a slight pit of anxiety whenever your boss told you to ask him for an interview after a match, would be an understatement.
Trying to slip your way through the crowd came as a slight challenge, though as your own popularity arose it had gradually became a bit easier. People recognized you, people respected you and that was more than enough.
It wasn’t too hard to find the coral locks along the crowd, Itoshi Sae with his bag strewn over his shoulder as he stepped through the lobby with his usual mask of nonchalance.
He never flinched at the cameras even as the bright lights flashed over his strong features, highlighting the bright teal of his burning gaze when it met yours.
Sae hated interviews, he hated talking to reports and paparazzi. Yet when he saw you amongst the crowd, two microphones resting between your tapping fingers with a smile on your lips, for whatever reason he didn’t turn to ignore you. He allowed himself to push forward despite his usual reservations, just enough to see if you’d stop him.
“Itoshi!”
His mind reeled, but he didn’t let it show as he turned to you casually—acting as though hearing his name from your lips brought an ease to his mind.
“What?”
Cold, to no one’s surprise. But you smiled all the same, warmly.
“I was um— I was wondering if I could get a quick interview, if you have time?” A nervous stammer, a hand moving to quickly push a hair from your face as you faced him. You’d interviewed him twice before, but it was enough to make you jittery.
You expected a scoff, or maybe just a silent departure. But instead, he nodded, stepping towards you as you stood stunned for a moment before your smile illuminated and you handed him one of the mics in your hand; waving over your camera man.
Did Sae always stare this intensely? Did he do that to all the interviewers? Or was he just trying to pick you apart?
“Hello everyone! Today I am joined with the one, and not the only Itoshi, Itoshi Sae!” You quickly greeted the camera before motioning to Sae who didn’t pull his eyes away from you even as you introduced him to the camera that shot live.
“That was a very intense match against Brazil, you played amazing by the way, as always.” You complimented, meeting his weighted stare as he blinked down at you silently.
Amazing start, you cleared your throat—unfaltering. “You know I’ve always wondered what you think about when you make those plays, does it come to you naturally or is there a lot of calculations involved?”
Silence stretched for a moment, before Sae adjusted his hand on his bag unconsciously.
“skill.”
“Oh, well you definitely have a lot of that!” You tried to joke, laughing as Sae just stared.
and stared.
and stared.
“Well! I do hear that you’ve been playing for a while so I’m sure it’s all pretty much engrained by now, huh?”
Sae nodded, stare unwavering. “Flow state.”
“Oh like the meme.”
His brows furrowed slightly, “What?”
“Like the tiktok..meme, like entering flow state?”
“Yeah, flow state.” You smiled, though it was almost glaringly obvious that the two of you were not on the same angle.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long in case you’ve got a big celebration plan but I just have a few more questions if you don’t mind, that’s my version of ‘flow’”
“You don’t have to rush.”
He, to your surprise, reassured. You faltered for a moment, biting hack the way your smile threatened to widen enough to make your cheeks burn. “Thank you, that is very kind of you.”
The interview carried on for a another five minutes, and it all came with the same ‘flow’ as it had began. You smile, he stares. You laugh, he stares.
“Okay! Well thank you so much for speaking with me, and putting up with my horrible soccer jokes. But don’t worry, I’ll let you run away now!” You laughed off, turning to the camera. “Sae here is going to be playing again in three weeks in this same arena, so make sure to score a seat..get it? score a..yeah you got it.”
Your hands pulled into your signature peace sign to depart and end the interview, waving your two propped fingers to the camera when Sae mimicked your action. His fingers raised, and though his lips didn’t, it was enough.
The interview went tripple platinum.
As it turns out, fans love Itoshi Sae, and they love you too. Combine the two of you and they’re sufficiently fed, maybe.
GOJOSHOLLOWPURPL6767: DID YOU SEE HOW HE LOOKED AT HER? UGHHH
ITOSHIGOBBLER literally grumpy x sunshine ughh i love then
THUKUNA ao3 writers get to work NOW
> ALLIEMALLIEA already on it 🫡
POPECODYLUVR WHEN HE COPIED HER PEACE SIGN? HE WANTS THAT COOKIE BADDD
SAEMUNCHER it’s the fact he never does interviews but has done three with her, Sae I know what you are
itoshi.sae has followed you
itoshi.sae sent you a message:your soccer jokes were funny.
SAE'S MANAGER'S LAST NAME DABADIE IS PRONOUNCED AS "DA BADDIE" SKSBFKSLNAGNALGNS
“girolan dabadie… da baddie???”
sae doesn’t look up from his phone. “you’ve said it ten times.”
“i’m gonna say it ten more.” you poke his cheek while trying to suppress your giggles. “baby. BABY. why didn’t you tell me your manager’s last name sounds like he belongs in a rap video?”
“you met him two months ago. this isn't new information.”
“da baddie, sae.” you stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief and barely contained chaos. “that’s literally how it’s pronounced. your manager is unintentionally iconic. he sounds like the final boss of an instagram thirst trap.”
“he’s in his fifties.”
“and yet,” you dramatically press a hand to your chest, “he is da baddie.”
sae finally puts his phone down and gives you the faintest smirk. “you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met.”
you nudge his thigh with your foot. “you love it.”
“no,” he says, but you hear the softness in his voice. “you were literally crying laughing in the car on the way back from practice.”
“because i heard someone call him mr. dabadie in full seriousness and i –” your voice breaks as the laugh bubbles up again. “i can’t believe i was shaking that man’s hand like, ‘nice to meet you, sir,’ while not knowing i was in the presence of a baddie.”
sae shakes his head and mutters, “for fuck’s sake,” but he’s trying not to smile now. you can see the corners of his lips twitching.
you grin. “do you think he knows?”
sae raises an eyebrow. “that his name sounds like he runs a makeup brand and a secret fanpage on twitter?”
you slap his arm and gasp. “you do think it’s funny!”
sae exhales through his nose, a barely audible, actual laugh. “he signed an email once with just ‘– da baddie.’ i stared at it for ten minutes. but realized it was probably autocorrect.”
“NO WAY.”
“swear.”
you throw your head back with a cackle. “he knows. oh my gosh, he knows he’s a legend.”
“you can’t say anything.”
“i would never.” you pause. “except i already made a fake commercial for him in the voice memo app.”
sae blinks. “what?”
“wanna hear it?”
before he can answer, you press play. your voice echoes through the apartment in dramatic, sultry tones:
“he’s not just a manager. he’s a lifestyle.
he’s not just on time, he is the timeline.
this fall, one man walks into the room,
and everyone whispers…
da baddie.”
there’s a beat of silence before sae coughs into his hand, clearly trying not to laugh.
you’re grinning ear to ear. “you liked it.”
“that was stupid.”
“but you liked it.”
“i’m sending it to him.”
you shriek. “sae!”
he’s already air-dropping the file to his laptop. “too late. he deserves to hear his brand in action.”
“what if he fires you?”
“then i’ll become your manager. and go by ‘da worstie.’”
you gasp. “we’ll be unstoppable. the baddie and the worstie tour 2025.”
sae finally cracks and lets out a quiet laugh, the kind that makes your chest warm. it’s soft, rare, and entirely unbothered.
“you’re so dumb,” he murmurs, but his gaze lingers on you fondly.
you flop onto his shoulder. “and yet. i’m dating one of the world’s top football players.”
“... and managed by da baddie himself.”
you whisper reverently, “we are truly blessed.”
sae just sighs again, but he doesn’t move away. he lets you rest there, quietly scrolling, while you start plotting a merch line in your head.
you’re already designing a shirt that says da baddie energy.
a/n: imagine the type of scandals they’d get into online that would prompt you, PR manager! reader, to step in and fix their public image, but they end up slowly falling in love with you in the process 😍
“isagi yoichi verbally assaulted a teammate during a live broadcast.”
and you were like “... define assaulted.”
they sent the clip. the words “you talentless waste of perfectly good oxygen” were involved.
by the time you arrived at blue lock, the hashtag #slursagi was trending. it was bad.
memes everywhere. clips of him glaring at the camera with captions like “when your coworker breathes wrong.”
isagi was just sitting there, visibly stressed, but not apologetic.
“he called me mid,” he said, as if that justified it.
so now you’re his PR babysitter. you make him reread every statement twice, train him on “positive language,” and physically tug his phone away when he’s about to tweet something passive-aggressive like ‘funny how people want “team players,” but hate honesty.’
slowly though, you notice he listens to you more than anyone else. you’ll be ranting about damage control plans, and he’ll just… stare. like full-on, soft eyes, zoned out, thinking about how the way you fix everything for him is the cutest thing ever.
“you’re so good at this,” he murmurs once. “you make me wanna– uh, cooperate.”
you’re pretty sure that’s the most romantic thing slursagi has ever said.
media training ends with him trying to “practice smiling at his teammates” with you. he looks like a lost golden retriever. by the 10th try, you’re both laughing so hard the whole PR team starts shipping you two.
itoshi rin
rin’s issue wasn’t words. it was violence.
some fan said “your brother’s hotter” during a meet and greet. next thing the world saw was rin’s vein popping face as he threatened to “educate” the fan.
twitter went feral. “rin itoshi punches minors” trended for two days.
you’re hired to manage the fallout, which includes softening his image. except rin doesn’t do soft. he sits through your press briefing like it’s torture.
“try saying something nice about the fans,” you instruct.
“... they exist.”
“rin.”
“what? they do.”
at first, you swear he hates you. he keeps rolling his eyes when you hand him cue cards. but then you notice how he remembers the smallest things you say, like when you complained about your coffee order being wrong, and the next morning, there’s your favorite drink waiting on your desk.
“don’t make it weird,” he mutters. “you’re less annoying when you have caffeine.”
and when paparazzi swarm you two after an event, he just grabs your wrist and leads you away without hesitation. the next headline?
“rin itoshi protecting his PR manager?!”
and you can feel the smirk he’s hiding behind that mask.
now every time he screws up, he just shows up at your office like, “so... crisis management date?”
you’re like, “rin, that’s not how this works.”
he’s like, “... it is now.”
itoshi sae
sae’s scandal wasn’t violent or rude. it was worse: condescending.
a viral interview where he was asked, “what motivates you?” and he said, “the incompetence of everyone else.”
with a deadpan face. zero irony.
your job: make him sound like less of an elitist god complex in a tracksuit.
his job: pretend he cares.
except he finds you fascinating. you’re the only one who talks to him like a person instead of a deity.
“sae, you need to stop dismissing people in interviews.”
“i’m not dismissing them, i’m acknowledging the truth.”
“you literally said your coach is ‘functioning furniture.’”
“functional though.”
he’s so amused by you it’s unreal. every scolding turns into him teasing you.
“you get this worked up over me, huh?”
“it’s my job.”
“sure. keep telling yourself that.”
the internet starts noticing he’s weirdly well-behaved when you’re around. fans ship it. someone even edits a “sae soft launch” compilation with clips of him almost smiling next to you.
by the time you’re prepping him for another press event, he casually says, “you make me sound human. maybe that’s why i like you.”
and just leaves you standing there with your clipboard, malfunctioning.
nagi seishiro
nagi’s scandal? he went viral for ghosting a charity livestream.
literally slept through the whole event.
the clip of his empty chair raised over a million views in two hours.
“is he dead?” one comment asked.
“no, just lazy,” another replied.
so now you’re his PR manager, trying to prove he’s not a heartless slacker. except nagi makes it impossible because he says things like, “ugh, can’t they donate without me being awake?”
you make him film a redemption vlog. halfway through, he falls asleep mid-sentence.
the comments: “this is the most nagi thing ever.” “protect the sleepy man.”
somehow, you turn it into a win. your strategy? embrace the chaos.
he starts following you around like a sleepy cat, calling you his “favorite notification.” and when you sigh at him for missing deadlines, he just goes, “you look cute when you’re stressed.”
sir please. professionalism.
one night after a shoot, you catch him scrolling through fan edits of you two on tik tok.
“they think we’re dating,” he yawns.
“we’re not.”
“hm. maybe we should, though. saves you time on damage control.”
you throw a pillow at him. he grins for the camera.
mikage reo
reo’s scandal was rich people problems.
he posted a tik tok ranting about “how hard it is to trust people when you’re wealthy.” while wearing a watch worth a house.
the comments? brutal.
“read the room, monopoly man.”
“my guy, your pillowcases probably pay taxes.”
you’re brought in to “rebrand” him as relatable.
“okay, reo,” you tell him, “we need you to show humility.”
“i can do humble,” he says, sipping from a crystal glass.
“... that’s champagne.”
“it’s sparkling humility.”
despite being a nightmare to manage, he’s genuinely trying because he wants your approval.
suddenly he’s donating anonymously (but somehow the receipts “leak”), showing up at community events, even volunteering at an animal shelter.
one of the cats immediately scratches him.
“ow! ...i deserved that.” progress.
somewhere between the fake humility and real growth, he falls for you. hard. he’ll flirt mid-meeting like, “you make me want to be a better man, y’know?”
“reo.”
“no seriously. also i bought you flowers. because you’ve been working so hard.”
soon the media’s calling you two “the PR fairy and her reformed golden boy.” and honestly? it fits.
because reo might still be dramatic, but the way he looks at you in interviews – that’s not PR. that’s pure, unbranded love.
bachira meguru
bachira’s scandal was… bizarre. he went viral for calling himself “the demon inside football.” except then he took it too far.
live on TV, he looked directly into the camera and said, “sometimes i bite people to feel alive.”
the reporter blinked. “... you mean figuratively, right?”
“nope.”
twitter lost its mind.
your job was to assure the public he’s not a danger to society. step one: stop him from saying the word “bite.” ever again.
“bachira, we need to tone down the feral thing.”
“but that’s my brand.”
“no, your brand is football, not rabies.”
he’s impossible to manage. he shows up to interviews wearing cat ears one day and a “team demon” shirt the next. somehow, though, you can’t stay mad.
because he’s always grinning at you, saying things like, “you make me feel human. that’s scary. but kinda fun.”
and the worst part? it works. his fanbase eats up the “reformed chaos boy under the guidance of his PR goddess” arc. people are making edits of your exasperated face next to his puppy grin.
and he loves it.
“look, we’re trending together again,” he says, scrolling through instagram.
“bachira, please stop calling me your ‘emotional leash.’”
“but you are!”
somewhere between all the apologies and crisis briefings, he starts falling for you – the one person who doesn’t flinch when he’s being weird.
“you always calm the demon down,” he whispers one night after an interview, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard. “maybe the demon just needed a friend.”
shidou ryusei
oh, shidou.
his scandal was so unhinged even the PR team had to sit down and pray.
during a live interview, when asked about his pre-game rituals, he smiled and said, “i like to imagine destroying my opponent’s soul and maybe their pelvis too.”
the internet collectively screamed.
“sir, this is ESPN.”
you were assigned to fix him. you, a normal person with morals, now had to convince the world this man wasn’t a menace to humanity.
step one: get him to apologize.
step two: survive step one.
“you should say you regret your words,” you tell him.
“but i don’t.”
“then pretend.”
“hm. pretending’s hot when you say it like that.”
you immediately add “no flirting” to his list of banned PR behaviors.
unfortunately, the media loves you two together. every time he posts something insane (“would commit arson for love 🖤”), you’re trending in the replies because people are like “his PR manager must be crying rn.”
and, well, you are.
still, he starts showing a weird kind of affection. he actually listens to your warnings now, not because he cares about the media, but because you asked him to.
“you’re the only one who makes me wanna act normal,” he admits once, twirling his mic cord like a delinquent teenager in love.
“shidou, that’s the bare minimum.”
“for you, i’ll do the bare maximum.”
unfortunately, when he said “maximum,” he meant tweeting “i’d die for my PR girl 🖤🔥”
and now you’re trending again.
karasu tabito
karasu’s scandal wasn’t words, it was footage.
someone leaked a clip of him after a game, shirtless, telling a reporter, “ask me that question again when ya’ve earned my attention.”
the clip hit 20 million views in a day.
fans were divided: half were drooling, half were calling him a menace.
you got hired to “humanize” him, make him seem less like an arrogant flirt and more like a professional athlete.
unfortunately, karasu thinks this is hilarious.
“so yer my reputation rehab?” he grins. “sounds kinky.”
“please stop saying things like that in public.”
“so just in private then?”
the more you scold him, the more he teases. he calls you “boss,” starts following you to every press event just to see you flustered.
when you tell him to practice restraint, he leans closer with that lazy smile and murmurs, “ya sure ya want me restrained, sweetheart?” somewhere, a cameraman faints.
but behind the teasing, you notice he does take your advice. he stops picking fights online, actually engages with fans, and credits you during interviews.
“she’s the reason i’m not canceled,” he says once, smirking. “or maybe i just wanted her to look at me longer.”
and just like that, you realize – this man’s entire redemption arc might’ve just been an excuse to get your attention.
“you wanted good press,” you tell him.
“nah,” he grins, “i wanted ya. the good press was a bonus.”
kaiser michael
kaiser’s scandal was the most on-brand thing ever.
he did an interview where he said, “i don’t have rivals, only people desperate enough to compare themselves to me.”
the interviewer blinked.
the internet collectively rolled their eyes.
and boom – “#kaiserfelloff” trended worldwide.
you’re brought in to fix his “ego problem.” except kaiser insists he doesn’t have one.
“the media just can’t handle confidence,” he says, sipping coffee in sunglasses indoors.
“the media can’t handle narcissism, michael.”
“narcissism’s just confidence with good posture.”
you nearly throw your ipad at him daily.
but behind all that arrogance, you start to notice moments – tiny cracks. like how he stays up reading the comments people make about him, quietly deleting the meanest ones from his feed.
or how he asks you, half-jokingly, “be honest, am i hard to like?”
he tries to flirt it away, of course.
“you’re the only one i’d let manage my image,” he says during a shoot. “or my heart, if you’re hiring.”
you ignore him, but your PR emails are full of fan edits of you two anyway.
the turning point comes when he refuses a new interview because you said he needed rest. the team’s shocked. “kaiser listened to someone?”
“yeah,” he mutters, glancing at you, “i only take orders from the best.”
and you can’t even roll your eyes because that smile looks real this time.
ness alexis
ness didn’t do anything malicious, he just said something insufferably cringe.
during an interview about teamwork, he said, “kaiser is my sun, and i am his orbit.”
cue every headline reading “is ness in love with kaiser?”
and kaiser did NOT help by reposting it with a smirk emoji.
you’re hired to repair his image because the internet won’t take him seriously anymore.
“ness, you can’t say things like that. it makes you sound–”
“devoted?”
“gay.”
he’s defensive at first, until he meets you. suddenly, his new fixation isn’t kaiser. it’s you.
you notice the shift when he starts quoting you instead.
“my PR manager once said self-awareness is key,” he tells a reporter. “she’s the smartest person i know.”
and you’re sitting backstage like please stop talking before you make it worse.
he starts asking for your opinion on everything. outfit choices, captions, even what emoji to use. you tell him “less is more,” and he replies, “that’s what i like about you, too.”
cue you choking on your coffee.
fans eventually catch on – he’s smiling more, calmer, posting behind-the-scenes clips with you in them (accidentally, of course).
“ness soft launch incoming?” trends.
and when someone asks him what changed, he smiles and says, “found a new sun to orbit.”
Wassup :3 could i request a multi character bllk smau where reader wears glasses and has broken 1-2 pairs while fking so when chara and reader fk chara takes off readers glass but reader tells them no so chara asks why and reader tells them because they want to see thier pretty face while fking and thier eyelashes etc, what could the bllk character reaction be? Thanks
I don't write smuts but I can write about readers with glasses if you like 🐣?
Waring :- ignore the nagi's like count I wanted to make 5 million but accidentally made it 58. M 🐸and isagi comment section likes too i got lazy to change it
ᝰ.ᐟNagi Seishiroִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ
You and Reo teamed up for this one. It was entirely your idea to announce your relationship through a social media post, a plan that Reo enthusiastically hijacked. His philosophy was simple: if you're going to post, why not make it an absolute aesthetic masterpiece? He suggested a "soft launch" photo first, treating the rollout like a high-budget marketing campaign
And Nagi? He was basically a hostage—well, a bystander—in the whole operation.
You found the perfect reference photo, and Reo immediately went out and bought ridiculously expensive waterproof pens set for you to execute the operation . This, of course, led to Nagi complaining and whining for hours. To him, showering was already a massive hassle, but trying to scrub off Reo's premium waterproof products took two days of intense rubbing, leaving his pale skin completely flushed.
When the post dropped, the internet went into a meltdown while Nagi, however, didn't understand why people kept bringing Reo into the comment section. Not that he actually minded or cared about the public's opinion—he was just genuinely confused.
Because Nagi generally doesn't keep himself updated about social media trends , he had absolutely no idea what the comments were saying until you sat on his back and read them out loud to him.
The white-haired boy was just entirely satisfied with the post-operation back massage you were giving him. In his head, it was way too much of a hassle to think or care about what a bunch of strangers on the internet thought. Let them write their theories. As long as he got to laze around with you, that was all that mattered.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Karasu Tabito ִֶָ. ࣪ ִֶ𓄿་༘࿐
Karasu was visibly tweaking after posting this. The boy had wanted to be all smug and smart-aleck, fully intending to dismantle whatever predictable comments appeared under the tweet with his usual sharp wit. After all, Karasu had planned this for a while. He had talked it over with you, gotten your explicit consent, and even analyzed a few soft launches made by celebrities in the past to study exactly how ordinary people reacted to that kind of media play.
Based on his data, he fully expected the comment section to be divided into three neat categories: supportive, confused, or hating.
He was prepared to pick those apart. He was not prepared for whatever absolute circus this comment section turned into.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀Rin itoshi ৻ꪆ
He definitely read through the comments at least twice, which was something he never did in general—honestly, he rarely even posted to begin with. But this time, he just sat there in absolute silence, brutally judging every single reaction while secretly agreeing with every comment that praised the two of you as a couple.
It had been your idea to announce your relationship suitably online and Rin would rather die than admit out loud that he was actually intrigued by the concept When you first suggested it. So he had simply shrugged, telling you to do whatever you wanted because he couldn't care less about what a bunch of lukewarm, mediocre nobodies had to say about his life. But internally? The mere thought of the world knowing that you belonged to him—and that he belonged to you—was profoundly pleasing to his ego, his pride, and his heart.
Rin nonchalant in front of you like he was doing this to indulge you only, but his actions completely gave him away. He didn't complain once he wa leaning on you, letting you make him try out several different poses and photo references, before finally settling on this one.
Once the shot was perfect, he stared silently at the picture for a solid 4 minutes, before hitting upload—without giving his PR team a single second of advance warning.
𐙚⋆.˚Sae itoshi 𐙚🧸ྀི
Sae being Sae, he posted it randomly on his feed simply because he felt like it.
It was a random Monday night. You were fast asleep, your hands wrapped securely around Sae's waist while he was occupied with his phone, boredly clearing out notifications from mindless sports journalists. He spent a moment glaring at a draft a sponsor company had sent him—one he had absolutely no intention of actually publishing—to promote some lukewarm product he couldn't care less about.
To say he was frustrated was an understatement. He was thoroughly sick of the endless questions and media allegations accusing him of not respecting or representing his country, despite having the elite talent to do so. As if it were his personal problem or duty to carry the weight of the entire nation's football team on his back. How was it seriously his fault that Japan couldn't even secure a win against some mediocre, uninspired team?
With a click of his tongue, he shut off the device, preparing to sleep himself, when he felt you shift slightly against him. His eyes fell upon your peaceful, sleeping face. He paused for two seconds, the lingering irritation evaporating as his shoulders relaxed unconsciously.
You had zero idea that the very next morning, you would wake up to the yowling and squawking of poor Dabadie echoing from the living room of your shared apartment.
Sae looked like he was silently judging Dabadie's entire bloodline, while the manager was doing his absolute best to explain that Sae couldn't just randomly pull stunts like this out of nowhere—at least, not without consulting him first.
"Handle it yourself if you're having a problem. That's your job anyway," was all Sae had to offer to his manager's misery.
Leaving a stressed-out Dabadie standing in the middle of room, Sae stood up and walked over to you, offering you his your morning coffee to a confused version of yourself who still had absolutely no idea what was going on.
⋆˚꩜｡Isagi Yoichi ⋆˚࿔
Yoichi was sitting across from you, having just taken your photo and handed over his phone to see if the post was up to your liking. He was eager to hit upload because, of course, the boy wanted the entire world to know that he was the one who got the cookie.
Initially, Isagi was absolutely loving the chaotic teasing from his Blue Lock teammates in the mentions—right up until Kaiser decided to pollut isagi's comment with his presence.
While you were busy finishing your plate isagi was finishing Kaiser's public image.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ .✦
A/n:- did I get a bit too rude at isagi's one :').
I just screamed in front of my tuition sir after seeing this because holy shit 😳😳😳😳 bro i can't like I am kind of speechless 🙈. I was thinking i should let go of my hugo obsession but how am I supposed to do that now? 😩
Moving in with your long-term boyfriend felt like a natural next step, a milestone you had both eagerly agreed on. It saved you the constant trouble of rearranging schedules just to hang out, and not to mention dodging all those paparazzi every time you traveled to each other's houses. Now, it was just the two of you, maximizing every scrap of time you could get together.
But a rather bizarre problem had started to crop up. You noticed that many of your things—like the cute little novelty pens that were terrible for actual writing but too pretty for you not to buy them (girl's math), your used lip balms, and half-empty perfume bottles—had been mysteriously vanishing ever since you unpacked. At first, you brushed it off, assuming you were just being careless and misplacing them.
"Damn, seriously... again?" You sighed, thoroughly irritated. The weather was stifling and you desperately wanted to tie your hair back, but you couldn't find a single one of your hair ties for the life of you.
"Babe, have you seen my hair ties anywhere?" You turned your head to look at your partner, who was lounging on the couch, entirely absorbed in his regular routine of analyzing football matches.
"No," he replied, his tone so completely casual you almost believed him.
You almost didn't notice that one of your missing black bands was currently wrapped snugly around his wrist. He acted completely innocent, as if he weren't the serial thief who had been hoarding your things—stealing a pair of your earrings because they looked cool clipped onto his gym bag, or swiping your perfume just because it made his handkerchiefs smell better
"No." "Nope." "Don't know." "Go fish."
Those were his usual nonchalant answers whenever you got frustrated over your missing belongings and came to him for help. He lied straight to your face without an ounce of guilt. But honestly, who could blame him? He already had to spend so much time away from you to pursue his grueling football career; the least you could do was unconsciously provide the man with a few little tokens of you to hold onto.
