Your eyes snapped open instantly. Without thinking, you reached behind you, your hand gliding over the mattress in search of something familiar.
Warm, toned skin.
Sae.
Not what you were looking for.
Your hand continued to wander over the blankets, your brows slowly knitting together as your search grew more frantic.
ââŠWhatâs wrong?â Sae asked, his voice low and rough with sleep.
He turned onto his side, lazily wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you against his chest. His warm breath brushed the back of your neck as he buried his face into your hair.
âGo back to sleep,â he mumbled, already closing his eyes again.
âI canât.â
You slipped out of his hold and sat up, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. They swept across the bed.
Nothing.
You climbed out of bed, crossed the room, and flicked on the light.
Sae let out an annoyed groan, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand.
âWhere is he?â
You planted your hands on your hips.
ââŠWho?â
He didnât even bother looking at you.
âYou know exactly who I mean.â
Sae sighed dramatically before finally cracking one eye open.
âThe shrimp?â
âYes. Sheldon.â
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
âSheldon? Your stuffed shrimp actually has a name?â
âOf course he does. His name is Sheldon Shrimp.â
You said it with complete seriousness, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
âHm.â
Sae closed his eye again.
âMaybe Sheldon Shrimp decided heâd rather spend one night away from you. Lucky for you, youâve still got Sae Itoshi.â
âI donât want to spend the night without Sheldon.â
âLifeâs unfair.â
His answer was so flat that it only made you glare harder.
âWhere did you hide him?â
There was genuine concern in your voice now.
You couldnât shake the horrible thought that Sae had done something to your favorite plush.
âI never said I hid him.â
He sounded far too innocent.
âAnd why would I?â
âSaaae.â
You dragged out his name with a frustrated whine.
âWe canât sleep like this.â
âI could.â
He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at you with that usual calm, unreadable expression.
âIâd actually sleep better if my adorable girlfriend hugged me instead of a stuffed shrimp.â
You blinked.
âWe can cuddle all together⊠if youâre nice to Sheldon.â
Sae stared at you for a long moment.
ââŠIâll pass.â
âSo?â
You crossed your arms.
âWhere is he?â
He let out another quiet sigh.
âIn the closet.â
Without another word, you hurried over and opened it.
Sure enough, Sheldon Shrimp was sitting neatly on one of the shelves.
You smiled triumphantly, hugged your beloved shrimp tightly against your chest, switched the light back off, and climbed into bed again.
Satisfied, you tucked Sheldon safely between you and the blanket before instinctively reaching for Saeâs arm, wrapping yourself around it as well.
For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you felt it.
The slightest twitch at the corner of Saeâs mouth.
A smile.
Tiny enough that heâd deny it if you ever mentioned it.
You smiled to yourself, cuddling both Sheldon and Sae a little closer.
Being in a distance relationship is one of the most exhausting things ever
It turns every missed call into a heavy silence and every delayed reply into a reason to be annoyed
The two of you had been fighting for weeks, until the last argument that spiraled into something ugly and unbearable, leaving you both with sharp, stinging words that lingered even after the screen went black
It had been a few weeks since you last spoke. Even when his name lit up your screen two days ago, you just turned your phone down on the nightstand, staring at the ceiling, unable to stomach another fight
You were too tired to keep trying
It was past midnight and all you wanted was to sleep
As your eyes finally began to give in, a violent thudding shook your front door
Your heart hammered against your ribs, the sound echoing in the hollow silence of your apartment
It wasnât a polite knock of a neighbor, it was a heavy, persistent and entirely too aggressive for this hour
Adrenaline spiked and your first instinct was to grab the nearest weapon you could find, a plastic kitchen broom you found in the hallway
You hovered by the door, your knuckles white as you gripped the handle
Even though you were scared to death, you had to face whatever nightmare was on the other side
âWhoâs there?â you shouted, your voice trembling as you gripped the handle tighter âIâm calling the police!â
A beat of silence followed, then a raspy, slurred familiar voice drifted through the door
âKnock knockâ
You blinked, the tension in your arms leaving slowly as it had arrived âSae, is that you?â
âKnock knockâ he repeated, ignoring your question with a stubborn, drunken persistence
âSae? Youâre supposed to be in Spain. Are you ..are you drunk?"
âYouâre supposed to say whoâs thereâ he slurred, his voice heavy with annoyance
You let out a frustrated breath, leaning your forehead against the door â..Whoâs there?â
âYour boyfriendâ you could practically hear his drunken, lopsided smile through the door âNow let me inâ
You threw the lock and swung the door open but the words youâd prepared died in your throat
He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, looking like a disaster
His bangs were falling straight over his eyes which were bloodshot from a mixture of exhaustion and what looked like suspiciously unshed tears, smelling strongly of expensive alcohol
He stumbled inward, nearly colliding with your shoulder as you caught him, his presence overwhelming the space
âYou idiotâ you whispered, your heart aching âWhy are you even here?"
Sae didnât answer, he just looked at you, his gaze falling over each of your features, memorizing your face
He wandered towards the sofa, pulling you with him as he collapsed onto the cushions
He didnât let go of your hand, his glossy eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch
âWhy didnât you answer me?â he murmured, the silence stretching between you
âIâm sorryâ he paused, his expression crumbling âThe fight.. it was .. I donât know. I hated not hearing from you. Donât do that againâ
Your heart ached at the words âIâm sorry tooâ you murmured, reaching to brush his bangs from his eyes âI shouldnât have ignored you, I was hurt..but I missed you"
He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes âJust stayâ he whispered, his voice rough âThe worldâs already exhausting, I donât need us making it worseâ
He looked at you as if you were the only solid thing in his life, his thumb reaching out to trace your lower lip
''Can I..â he hesitated, a ghost of his usual arrogance flickering for a second before being swallowed by longing âMay I kiss you? Pleaseâ
You just nodded and before you could even respond he dropped to his knees on the rug. His hands sliding to your waist to anchor himself to you, pressing his face into your chest for a brief second, clearly revealed that you hadnât turned him away
Then he looked up again, his expression softening into something devastatingly sincere
He leaned forward, capturing your lips with a desperation that tasted like apology and need for all the time spent apart. It was deep, lingering and unhurried
He finally pulled away, his forehead pressed into yours, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, afraid you might disappear
âIâm done with the distanceâ he whispered, his lips trailing towards your jaw
You were done too, unable to stay away from him any longer. You were happy he felt the same
He wasnât the type to be soft but he was certainly the type to fly across an ocean just to prove he was still yours
àŒâ SAE ITOSHI loves naps Ëłâ
â â â â â â â â â â â â âžâž ib this
sae itoshi was a regular manâŠ
regular in the sense that he didnât do much or more like he didnât have to do much to excel in what he wanted.
regular in the fact that he was just good at soccer, just perfect at reading the field and was amazing at honing his skills to improve even without trying.
he was born that way. others will just have to deal with it.
in his schedule nothing was because it was needed. he got up for practice because it was scheduled, he cleaned because he wanted to and he didnât like dust, he did the bonding exercises to shut up his coach on the days he had enough patience to go through with it.
he played soccer because he was the bestâŠand because he loved it, thereâs no doubt about that.
but he was meticulous about one exact thing.
and that was his health.
he had meal plans, time took carefully to fry the onions in his dishes on each side to a perfect sear.
the dishes lined up perfectly as he drifted his spoon over to you for a unneeded taste test.
his greens tucked, potatoes mashed and beefâŠwas very beefy.
and his body? a temple.
a talented cherished fucking temple. especially when it came to rest.
so on a normal day he would be lucky to get home at 3pm for his daily nap, for a quick snuggle before he got up to do more match review.
but in all honesty thatâs when he got home, toeing his shoes off at the door, showering, eating, reading over the interviews, then keeping tabs on his rivalsâŠit was HARD WORK!
hard enough that by 5:30 everyday but his rest days: monday and sunday, sae would stretch one long arm up from his position, turn to you, who usually was snuggled next to him dozing already or watching the next dumb reality tv showâŠ
and telepathically heâd communicate that he was ready to nap.
or in actuality, heâd huff tossing the ipad somewhere on the table in front, his long arm wrapping around you, until you finally turned to his big sleepy green eyes.
because he would not could not sleep without you.
and it was nonnegotiable that this was nap time for you too.
you knew that when his body, curled up over you, one long arm slung around your waist pulling you into his body, his face tucked in the place where your shoulder and neck meet, his bangs tickling you as he took one long breath and finally relaxed.
it was soothing, his hair fluffy, product free from the shower and down, a nice relaxer when you would turn in his arms and watch his face sink deeper into rest.
usually youâd follow right behind or be knocked out already, but today it was movie night of love island! you didnât want to miss that for his oddly timed napâŠyou let him have it for the first two hours but once 7:30 hit you knew you needed to catch up on the last episode and his bulky body was not going anywhere.
so you devised a plan, large bear stuffy tucked on the side of the couch just in your reach that he some how completely missed, ready to be your freedom for the next two episodes.
your hand grabbed at his fuzzy ear, the other slowly gripping saeâs arm and pulling it out from underneath you.
pausing when he huffed and shifted his arm going back in its original spot.
BUT NEVER FEAR!
you rolled carefully around in his grip, his arm loosely in the air just enough space to pass the teddy bear throughâŠ
âyou tried it.â
his arm twisted out your grip and grabbed the poor teddy by his face chucking him across the room.
ânowâ he scrunched his brows at you under his sleep messed up bangs, âwe nap.â
michael kaiser whose screentime increases astronomically after discovering pinterest for the first time.
tooth-rotting fluff, silly misunderstandings, technologically inept kaiser, kaiser being a cute little kitten for 2.2k words (ÂŽâœ`ÊâĄÆȘ).
There's something strange going on with Kaiser.
You can't exactly put a finger on it, on the leading cause behind his odd behaviour, but you're absolutely certain about itâ that he's keeping some kind of dodgy secret from you.
For one, he's been waking up later and less groggier than usual.
Well, granted, he's always waking up late, but it's the latter that really spikes your interest. Normally, whenever the man woke up to red rimmed and sunken eyes, a gaunt complexion and bed hair that looked like it's been dragged through the jungle and back, he's never failed to be in a foul fucking mood.
And thus, the lack of it, of his bitchiness, was raising some questionsâŠ
But more than that, however, he's even been spending more time on the toilet!
Again, something that isn't new to you considering how he's always had a bad history with constipation, but still!
Isn't someone dealing with the discomfort of constipation supposed to at least throw a fit in their bout of frustration?!
Butâ but that hasn't been the case at all!
If anything, he's been so much calmer.
Calmer!
Him, Michael Kaiser, the man whose fury rivalled that of Zeus himself being calm?!
Outrageous, right?!
You just couldn't wrap your head around it no matter how hard you tried to.
What the hell is it that's been putting him in such a jolly good mood?
It surely wasn't your ass responsible for this, you haven't been doing anything different with him as far as you can remember, and if it wasn't youâŠ
If it wasn't you, then, who was it�
"âŠ."
God, it almost feels like you're going insane, drawing vivid conclusions without consulting him first, but were you really to blame here?
The evidence was basically all there, staring at you right in the goddamn face!
How lately, he's always wearing his blue light glasses around the house and how he's constantly hogging the charger for himself, as if recurrently in front of a screen, perhaps, texting some random chick behind your backâŠ!
Your baseless thoughts were practically confirmed as well, when you'd tried to take sneak a quick peek at his phone during one of his ridiculously long shitting sessions, only to find that he'd taken his phone with him to the bathroom.
To the bathroom!!
Sure, most people had their phone accompany them to cure their boredom while they took shit, but in your case, everything was starting to add up!
It was just so blatantly obvious, and you'd only be a foolish moron to deny it further, to deny what he was trying so desperately hard to hide from you.
"Hey." His voice, dry and relaxed, snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to reality by the taut thread your sanity was clinging to. "I'll be back later, yeah?"
You don't grace him with a verbal response, barely guarding him with a stare of acknowledgement as he stands across from you by the apartment door, waiting for your usual farewells and wishes of safe returns.
"[Name]?"
Kaiser sounds uncertain as he addresses you, and you're not sure what spurs your destructive curiosity, whether it's that last bit of confirmation you need before confronting him, or some innate desperation that blooms after hearing the slight waver in his tone, but you seek it out for yourself.
"Can Iâ uh, can I check your phone..?"
The silence that ensues has your pulse falter and your heart flatline.
You're positively sure your nervous system's shutting down too, the dread from the sudden stillness entirely to blame for the way your stomach lurches to your congesting throat. There's even a tremble in your hands as you press them close to your side, hoping to contain the fear that overwhelms you.
If he refuses, then he's definitely hiding something⊠If he doesn't want me seeing his phone, then he's definitelyâ
"Sure."
"Huh?"
The noise of your confusion is almost comical as you raise your head with alarm, your earlier fright seemingly for nothing when the sight of his phone greets you teasingly.
"My phone?" He tilts his head jadedly, not at all bothered by what any normal person would be bothered by.
"âŠuh, thanks." You take it from him with mild hesitation, fingers briefly brushing against his warmer ones during the exchange.
What the hell? He just gave it to me? No questions asked� No! He just wants me to think that way! This calculating bastard's probably deleted all the evidence!
You huff mockingly, guarding him with a glare of growing suspicion, something he doesn't pay attention to, not when he's too busy yawning away the fatigue from his lack of sleep doing God knows what at the heinous hour of dawn.
The phone almost feels like a ticking time bomb in your hands, and perhaps it is, considering how you were about to find some real sketchy shit on it. A moment passes as you calm your haywire nerves with quiet breaths, then, you're switching his phone on, gulping cautiously as the screen lit up with a⊠horribly pixelated image of a puddle?
Huh?
Your puzzlement barely lasts a second, not when the phone just unlocks by itself, without you having to input a code or anything into it.
"âŠ."
This- this idiot doesn't have a password on his phone?!
"You⊠you don't have a password on your phone..?" The utter disbelief in your tone goes ignored by the athlete.
He only blinks at you owlishly, brow raising with genuine confusion. "Do I need one?"
"I mean," you exhale deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose with unbridled bewilderment, questioning how nobody's tried to steal his phone yet, "most people have oneâŠ"
"Oh," Kaiser hums deeply, like he's considering your words for a brief minute before shrugging them off carelessly. "It's not like there's anything important on it."
I'll see that for myself, alright!? Hmph! Only people with things to hide say stuff like thatâŠ
You glance at him dubiously, before your gaze falls back on his unlocked phone with beguiled intent, your brows furrowing in thought as you internally debated your options.
I'd like to see his messages⊠but maybe it's better if I just check his screen time instead..?
And you do just that, your fingers move with the expertise of a veteran, pulling up his settings app to check his screen time, a stat that greets you in its full glory.
Twelve- TWELVE FUCKING HOURS ON WEB BROWSER??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING ON IT FOR SO LONG???!!
Your eyes near bulge out of their sockets at the number, before you rub at them furiously, hoping the comical endeavour clears your vision of the bullshit you're hallucinating. But instead of it reducing to a more appropriate number like you'd quietly expected, the absurd double digits remain, large and mocking as they stare back at you with mirth.
"Oi- oiâŠ!" Your finger trembles against yourself as you point to the screen accusingly, tapping on it frantically to get his attention. "Explain!"
"Oh." He offers no further explanation, only scratching his head in response, none the wiser to your skyrocketing concerns. "Uh, well, I found this website and can't seem to get off it."
"Website!?" You repeat, your mind flying a mile a minute as he nods noncommittally, a gesture that has dread pool in your stomach.
A website??? And he can't get off it?? Oh my God- don't tell me, it'sâ
"P-porn hub?!"
"Pinterest."
"Huh."
"What."
"âŠ."
The silence is unbearably loud, and you nearly shit yourself when he guards you with a look of mild offence, clearly felling very insulted by your baseless accusation.
"What did you just say?" His brow arches as he guards you with disbelief, looking a minute away from decking the life out of you.
"âŠ.Haha! P-pinterest!" You try to collect yourself, hoping he drops the subject before you explode into a pile of mush from humiliation. "Pinterest, huh?"
"âŠyeah." Kaiser eventually gets the hint and lets the topic go, giving up on trying to figure out whatever bullshit of a misunderstanding you ended up conjuring with your vivid imagination â a trait he was rather fond of.
You can only grin with relief when he doesn't inquire further about your ridiculous thoughts, though the relief is only momentary, for the reminder of his screentime resurfaces, urging you to investigate further. "But what about your screentime?! Why the hell is it at twelve fucking hours?!"
"Well, they have lots of pretty pictures," he admits quietly, fiddling with the ends of his bangs as he tried explaining his reasoning behind that absurd screentime. "It takes me a while to decide which to have as my wallpaper."
"Wallpaper?" You perk up, that explained his odd wallpaper you couldn't help cringe at earlier, it was so badly grainy and blurry, you thought you'd end up suffering an aneurysm.
"Yeah, look." He says, taking the phone from you while keeping it in your line of sight as he pressed on the screen a couple of times to open the website.
"If I click on this pretty picture, I can screenshot it and have it as my wallpaper." He talks you through each step, following along with them as he presents to you the abomination of a pixilated wallpaper he foolishly thought was pretty. "Helps calm me down when I look at it after some idiot's pissed me off."
Kaiser throws you a smug grin, feeling prideful for finally being able to teach you something 'techy' when it was usually him being the technologically inept boomer. You have to resist the disrespectful urge to scoff in his face when he keeps glancing at you with a puppy-ish glint in his eyes, searching for you approval and compliments.
"That's not⊠sigh, that's not how you use pinterest." You nearly roll your eyes with distaste, snatching the phone away from him to show him how it's really done. "You have to download the app first."
"There's- there's an app�" He looks distraught at your comment, complexion comically paling with horror as the earlier aura of cockiness surrounding him wilted in an instant at your bluntness.
"Yes, and you can just download the images while keeping its resolution instead of taking screenshots."
"Huh?" The guy doesn't follow, his spinning expression a telling sign of his growing confusion.
You can only sigh while shaking your head, it looked like he had a lot to learn, and given how he was already running late to practice, a few more minutes spent on teaching him how to use the software wouldn't hurt.
"Sit down," you fall to the ground with a huff, tapping the space beside you for him to follow along, something he does immediately with no complaints. "I'll teach you."
And that's exactly how your crash course on 'Beginners Tutorial For Using Pinterest Like a Pro, No Glue, No Borax' shortly began. You taught him how to navigate around the app, how to make boards and how to pin certain posts into those categorised boards, while also teaching him the correct way to download images instead of whatever abomination he thought was right.
"It looks prettierâŠ" Kaiser admits reluctantly, eyes bright with awe as he admired the resolution of his new wallpaper, something he always struggled to achieve with his pathetic screenshots.
"Right?" It's your turn to be smug now as you guard him with a humoured grin, finding immense delight in his quiet joy.
"Yeah." He nods softly, the tufts of his hair bouncing along in agreement, a sight that has your heart clench.
You stare at him for a little while longer, quietly endeared by his boyish wonder, before pulling your own phone out and holding it up proudly in his line of sight. "But not as pretty as my wallpaper!"
"Hm?" Kaiser looks up with mild curiosity, pretty blue eyes landing on the way your screen lit up with an image of himself. "It's meâŠ"
"Yep!" You cheer, before tapping on the screen relentlessly, the lockscreen changing to different candid pictures of him that you must've taken when he was too distracted to notice.
"âŠoh." He offers no further response, or rather, he's unable to even think of one, the flush on the tip of his nose a telling sign of his quaint shyness.
There's silence following your quiet show of affection, filled with warmth and tenderness, a moment that lasts for a short while, until it's later disturbed by Kaiser who finally gains his senses.
His gaze is fixed intently on his phone, tapping away at it with the concentration of a scholar and the speed of a grandma, before he shoves it right in your face with a prideful huff.
You squint, pulling back and gently taking the device from him to see what he desperately wanted to show you. It's his wallpaper, but instead of it being an image of the aesthetic puddle you helped him find earlier on pinterest, it was a selfie of the two of you. One you'd absentmindedly taken during one of your many trips to the library down the neighbourhood.
It was a horrible composition, zoomed in awkwardly on your face and blurry to boot, but⊠but it was sort of cute⊠if you were as blind as a bat and grew up around dis-formed behemoths.
"Mine'sâŠ" He starts off competitively, head turning away from you with growing embarrassment as his voice cracked ungainly, "âŠprettier."
"âŠ."
Ah, to think this easily flustered guy was the same guy you'd thought as unfaithful⊠shame on me.
the thought of my angel listening to audio books as he scrolls on pinterest đ„čđ„č
anyway i told two close friends that kaiser likes to have pretty wallpapers bc it helps calm him down, one of them said "omg he has a pic of ur face on it" đ„čđ„čđ„čâïž, and the other said he needs therapy đĄđĄđĄ. now which of the two do you think has been subject to my kaiser rants for longer?
â req: anya inspired gn! reader ft. itoshi.s, julian.l, bunny.i
itoshi sae is a selfish man who doesn't like to share, both impatient and easily irritated, the type who's quick to blow his shit at the slightest interaction the minute it begins to drag far too long for his liking. so it's no wonder that you, a jarring loudmouth with too much to say and an even bigger appetite to boot, has managed to grate on every single nerve he has. the only issue, however, is that youâre cute.
and sae, is disgustingly weak to cute things.
"Sae."
You've been at this for a while now, repeatedly calling out his name with a longing lilt in your tone, lashes fluttering obnoxiously as you greedily eyed up the ice lolly he'd purchased on a whim, feeling nostalgic of the past.
Something he doesn't even get a chance to fucking do.
Not when you're all up and over him, pawing at his arm to get his elusive attention, your pretty eyes all round and pleading as you stare him â the ice lolly â down.
"NoâŠ" He manages to force out, gaze desperately trying to avoid yours.
"But Sae!"
It's almost comical how quickly your mood shifts, your misplaced fury growing tenfold when he tried to pull his arm away from your vice-like grip.
Though, it's actually more comical how quickly he folds. The godforsaken memory of your tears resurfaces once more, haunting him of a future if he even considered the outlandish thought of refusal.
"Tch, here!"
Sae is surprisingly gentle despite his irate huff as he reluctantly hands you the ice treat, the pretty pink flush of his ears a telling sign of his extreme willingness.
"Thank you, Sae!"
Your gratitude has no effect on him, he lies to himself while rolling his eyes. But your next words, both ardent and considerate, send him into a spluttering mess of fluster.
"Wanna share w'me, Sae-chan?"
"No!"
It's more than just his ears that are flaming red right now, you're forwardness entirely to blame. And Sae hates to admit it, but part of him regrets refusing your golden offer of an indirect kiss.
"Damn itâŠ" You grumble under your breath, your distracted nature failing to notice the blackmail worthy sight of his patheticness, something he's eternally grateful for, for he'd rather die than be caughtâ
"You were supposed to throw the stick in the bin after having the last lick..!"
"âŠ."
julian loki is the kind of guy who's sometimes too competitive in his life. whether it's running the parent race and obliterating every father with a pot belly, or accepting an infant's challenge to a game and absolutely smoking them even if they've only just recently learnt the rules of said game, julian's never really been one to hold back or show mercy against his opponents. even if it means dealing with a bunch of profane complaints or snotty tears.
funnily enough, however, julian can't seem to hold the same sentiment when it comes to you.
Loki can't believe how it's come to this.
How one moment, the huge sports court was filled with an entire class of student, split exactly in half and into two opposing teams for an average game of dodgeball. And how in the next â after the whistle was blown, signifying the start of the wretched game â one team had somehow reduced to exactly one member while the other, Loki's team, remained untouched.
Obviously, with Mr. Sweat on one team, his accuracy, speed and strength combined, they were sure to have been the victors of this game. But that wasn't the inconceivable part of this situation, the actual inconceivable part was how you, with your imbalance, slowness, and the aim of a blind bat, had managed to become the lone survivor of this game.
You're standing there like a newborn deer caught in headlights, shaking in your scuffed trainers as you stare ahead with your mouth agape, likely just as surprised as everybody else in the room was to be the last one standing.
The shouts of your despair ridden teammates prove to be of no use to you either. Their countless 'catch the ball', 'hit someone' and 'pick up the ball' falling deaf on your ears, only stressing you out further, something Loki is quick to pick up on.
"I- I, sniff, can't do this..!"
You're not even holding the soft ball properly anymore, dropping it on accident only to recollect it with the clumsiness of a bull in a china shop, your resolve completely driven to a standstill. A sight that infuriates Loki more than he'd like to admit.
Nothing happens for a good while, and Loki begins to grow just as restless and impatient as his useless teammates behind him that urge him to end this 'boring' game, tempting advice that goes ignored.
He feels slight pity towards you, who looks a moment away from bursting into tears, and even considers throwing a ball right into your hands so he could get himself out of this game when a yawn nearly threatens to slip past him in his boredom. That is untilâ your stance changes.
It's so sudden, how the air around you shifts in an instant, your gaze focused unlike before as you press your feet firmly against the ground. You hold one hand out before you, taking aim with the concentration of a veteran while the other, holding the soft ball, pulls back with fixed intent. Your positioning snaps him into one of his own, a defensive stance ready to catch the ball he was sure you would launch with all your might.
A useless endeavour, for the ball does not come to him at mach speed like he expects.
"Watch me unleashâ Eeek-!"
In fact, it does not even come to him at all.
The ball's trajectory is strangely off, and Loki follows it with blank eyes, as it goes up high and back down anticlimactically, hitting you square in the head with a comically loud 'thwack' that has him half wince at your crumbling figure.
"It- It hurtsâ!! WAHHHH!"
He wastes no time when your pathetic whining reaches his ears, a noise that urges him into motion and under the ball that has bounced off of your head perfectly.
The ball hits his thigh before its motion is completely killed, the sudden stillness of it rebounding off of him signalling his defeatâ something he doesn't get even a chance to be depressed over when he's rushing over to you instead, thoughts of how to comfort your dramatically weeping figure consuming his mind in its place.
bunny iglesias likes, or rather, loves to taunt people just for the pure sake of it. he's not exactly sure what of it gives him so much thrill, perhaps it's the way his insensitive comments have a way of wiping away people's jarring smile, but it's one of his favourite past times nonetheless. especially when it comes to teasing you who is comically expressive in your reactions.
that is, of course, until you start crying.
"You look pretty today."
It's not often Bunny compliments you, it's not ever that he compliments you actually. The insensitive man's always trying to piss you off somehow. Be it pulling on your pigtails, pinching your rounded cheeks or stealing your belongings and keeping it out of reach, he never lets the opportunity to rage-bait you pass.
So it's no wonder that you â painfully used to his taunts and teases â can't seem to comprehend the kind words that have just come out of his mouth.
"Gahâ" You blink owlishly, a noise of confusion slipping by you as imaginary question marks floated around the both of you in tandem.
"I'm not lying," he guards you with a slight curve to his lips, amusement visible in his jewelled eyes as he gave you another once over, nodding to himself like you'd passed his standards. "You look pretty."
"Uh⊠well!" You huff, quickly gaining sense of his unsettling but truthful words as the minutes passed. Placing a hand to your chest and using the other to flick your hair back, you returned his tight smile with a cocky grin of your own, very clearly pleased to finally hear his praises. "I am prettyâ"
Bunny doesn't give you a chance to reaffirm yourself, not when he interrupts you mid speech, completely crushing your self fangirling with his petulant cruelty.
"Pretty ugly."
It's so comical how quick the blooming flowers around you wilt the way your smile drops, replaced with an expression of outrage that tickles him more than he'd like to admit.
"What?!"
"That's right." He hums with content, pinching his chin in mock thought while making a point to ignore your profane complaints, as if he didn't actively find sick enjoyment in your torment. "Maybe as ugly as a blobfish? Ah, but that's an insult to the poor blobfiâ"
"I don't look like a blobfish!" Your fists clench as you shake your head profusely, absolutely adamant on denying his utter bullshit.
"What was that?" He cups the back of his ear and crouches low beside you, mockingly accommodating for your shorter stature to hear you better.
"I said I don'tâ!"
"You're uglier than a blobfish? Ah, tsk tsk," he kisses his teeth with disapproval only to continue with his sadism. "You should have more confidence in yourself, well actually, it's better to acknowledge the truth than lie to yourâ"
"I'm, I'm not uglyâŠ!" You deny once more, except this time, your voice cracks with uncertainty, a tremble that does not go unheard by the taller man.
"What..?" Bunny's gaze flies to you in an instant, heart clawing in his throat when your glossy eyes, along with your wobbly and down-turned lips greet him in tandem.
"I'm not, sniff, an uggo..!" You whine pathetically, the globs of unshed tears finally falling down your cheeks in your bout of childish despair, a sight that knocks the wind out of him and urges him into motion.
Bunny's reaction is immediate much like his regret, one arm wrapping around your squirming figure and pulling you infinitely closer to his proximity.
"Yeah, yeah," he folds pathetically quicker, wiping away at your ceaseless tears with gentleness unfit of him. "You're not ugly, so stop crying⊠damn it."
lwk kinda rusheddddd, but uhhh lmk if u want part 2 w the other 3 ng11
sae sometimes isnât the most affectionate personâ heâs cold-hearted after all. but with you, he makes that an exception.
you lie beside him in his oddly huge bed. heâs been tossing and turning for hours. his brain just wonât shut up. heâs been having the urge to feel any sort of contact with you.
he peaks over at you, your hair spread all over your face and your chest slowly moving up and down with each soft breath you make.
he softly smiles to himself his hand moved to brush your hair back gently lingering on your skin.
he leans forward brushing his nose against yours before softly pressing his lips against yours.
âbaby.â he whispers against your lips, making your eyes slowly flutter open. you hum feeling your eyes droop again. he stares at your tired state and chews on his lower lip.
âi⊠canât sleep.â he murmurs.
you yawn rubbing your eyes before pushing yourself up to meet him eye level. âcâmere.â
you say in a low groggy voice holding your arms out. he practically pounced on you. immediately falling into your arms with a soft sigh. moving his face to nuzzle between your cleavage.
âcan i⊠umâŠâ he murmurs against your skin without lifting his head. you already knew what he wanted.
cradling the back of his head before lying back down resting his head on your cleavage. ââŠyou know me so well.â he huffs out as he nuzzles deeper against your skin.
you softly scoff to yourself feeling the weight of his head pressed against your cleavage before you both drift back to sleep.
funnily enough, sae probably has the happiest life in blue lock. heâs completely unaware of rinâs beef against him, he finds everything funny and laughs internally all the time, heâs a millionaire, he plays for the best team in the world, heâs adored by fans, heâs a member of the ng11, and he really doesnât gaf.
and heâs definitely not someone whoâd give you kisses for as long as youâd like.
but maybe you had the wrong idea about your boyfriend all along.
because lately, he has been pulling you close at random times, kissing you longer than he usually does. his lips linger on yours far more times than you had verbally asked him to kiss you. it does get embarrassing sometimes to ask him for them, but really, why canât he just take the hint?!
although, it seems you didnât really have to ask for it anymore, because he voluntarily gives those kisses to you himself.
you pushed him away gently, a little breathless from the long time sae had your lips on his.
âwhatâs gotten into you?â you asked him, your head tilting a little to the side in curiosity.
sae mimicked your action, his gloved hands still on your back. he had only gotten back from training, still in his tracksuit, still a little tired, and yet he decided to come after your lips the moment he opened the door to your apartment.
âi canât kiss my girlfriend now?â
you hit him lightly on the shoulder with a half-mocking scowl on your face. âdid you do anything to put you in guilt? youâve been very⊠sweet in terms of giving me kisses lately.â
sae scoffed, tracing his thumb against your back. âare you saying i have been giving an unsatisfactory performance in the past?â
ânoâ itâs justââ
his lips were on yours again before you could finish your sentence. there wasnât even anything else, just his lips on yours over and over again this past week.
âsweet,â was all he said before licking his lips.
oh⊠oh. you get it now.
âyou⊠itâs my lipstick, isnât it?â
sae shrugged and let you go, leaning to the counter behind him, both arms crossed. âyou changed it.â
âand you like it.â a teasing smile couldnât help but form on your face.
he shrugged againâacting so nonchalant as if he didnât want to taste your âsweetâ lips every second. âyou should use it more often. buy more of it.â
âget used to my old one. this oneâs pricey. â
Having a son whoâs a picky eater is one of the biggest challenges Hugo has faced in his entire existence.Â
Your little boy was an angel majority of the time since he got his fatherâs temperament. But when it came to sitting down on his highchair and experimenting with new flavours and textures?Â
He was a nightmare.
And it doesnât matter how many times Hugo makes exaggerated airplane noises when bringing the spoon to his babyâs mouth, the same scenario plays out in each attempt.Â
He scowls, pushes the plastic spoon away and makes the older man in front of him lose all hope in him complying.
Heâs starting to think that a food critic whoâs too chic to be caught eating baby food has reincarnated in your son, because this boy has not been fond of anything youâve given him since he left the nursing stage and began eating solids.
He didnât like the mashed carrots you made for him. Heâs not a big fan of broccoli or yogurt either.
So what made you choose to feed him avocados of all things today is something your husband is still trying to figure out.
Avocados feel like a bold choice for a child who seems to despise anything green â and since said child is Hugoâs, he canât help but assume heâll share his aversion to them as well.
Still, it wonât hurt to try.
â[S/N], say âAaahâ,â Hugoâs brows twist in frustration when his son turns his face sideways. Again.Â
He hates that heâs letting his irritation show. His son is just an innocent baby who doesnât know any better⊠but Hugo is also only human at the end of the day. âCome on, stop being skeptical.â
âuh-uh! no!âÂ
Yeah, this is utterly hopeless. Hugo is utterly pointless when it comes to this.
And itâs beyond shameful.Â
What good of a father is he if he canât even get his son to eat? Is he going to have to feed him chicken for the third consecutive time this week? What if his son starts clucking and growing feathers from eating it so much?
Desperation is really settling in.
But then he recalls one of your to-go tricks to get him to eat.
Whenever your son is acting a little more fussy than usual during feeding time, you always take a bite of whatever it is youâve cooked first to coach him into trying it too.
How did he not think to do that from the beginning?
Oh.Â
Because avocados are on the menu today.
Right.
âYouâre really going to make me do this?â The stubborn look his sonâs giving him is a good enough answer. âFineâŠYouâre so lucky I love you.â
He takes a bigger bite than he wouldâve liked of that green, nasty mash on his sonâs bowl, whoâs now watching him chew it attentively.
âSee? itâs not that bad.â What a lie.Â
That thing is gross.
Mushy.
Vile.
Itâs absolutely disgusting.
So much so that heâs struggling not to grimace when his tastebuds are sending clear messages to his brain that he should spit that thing off his mouth. Swallowing it nearly made him gag. But he knew he couldnât afford to do that. So he took it all down, quickly and with the straightest face he could master at that moment.Â
âHm. Delicious.â His tone said otherwise. âWill you try it yourself now. Please.â
His son finally opened his mouth for the first time today and ate without throwing a tantrum.Â
Hugo feels like his early sacrifice was not in vain. âSoâŠHow is it?â
The little boy smacks his lips together once. twice, before the unexpected happened.
His eyes widened in glee and he made grabby hands towards the plastic utensil in his fatherâs hand.
He actually liked something â other than chicken â for once.
And that something was avocados of all things in this world? âEh? You enjoyed this? Are you sure youâre my son?â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean, huh?âÂ
Why did you have to walk in when he said thatâŠ
an â my doctor prescribed me with at least one hugo fic per week. sorry guys...
