𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: How the new gen 11 boys would react to meeting your parents 🥹 only Hugo, Loki and Bunny!
I’m working on pt. 2 trust 🫶🫶
@svadkin thank you for the request i appreciate it so much 🥹🥹🫶💖 I am also going to do the other one too so stay tuned for that! 🫶
𝓙𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓴𝓲:
When you had first told Loki that your parent(s) wanted to meet him he was surprisingly calm, but he had been waiting for this day since the beginning of the relationship.
"Alright. I expected as much, as we've been together for quite a bit of time."
Let's just say,
he was ready.
It would be a random day when you got lunch prior to the approaching day and he'd just ask a random question about them.
"Do your parent(s) have any key interests?"
You'd take a sip or bite of your food and say, "That's random."
"I just want to know more about them. They raised such a wonderful daughter after all."
You'd nearly choke.
On the day of, Loki woke up well before his alarm clock went off.
He got ready a bit slower than usual, picking out his entire outfit carefully, and making sure he freshened up.
You told him to wear something casual, so he wore a white, fitted shirt with jeans, white sneakers and a cream flannel, with a small chain necklace and a watch to top it off. You guys were having a brunch at your parent's house after all.
He arrived at your apartment 20 minutes earlier than he was supposed to, to pick you up.
Seeing his text, you walked out and he opened the door for you to his car. You got in as usual, putting on your seatbelt.
As he got in, you noticed a small gift bag, making you smile a bit. "You nervous?" You asked.
He looked out to the road ahead, shrugging a tiny bit. "Perhaps."
When you got there and greeted your parent(s) he greeted them respectfully, giving them the gift, which they accepted gratefully.
During the whole brunch, Loki only added what he thought to be meaningful; every time he spoke, he was very sweet and respectful.
They definitely complemented his manners.
And as soon as Loki noticed your parent(s) starting to clean up, he immediately began helping them, asking where to put certain things and cleaning up stray crumbs.
Your parent(s) did in fact like him, a lot,
And even gave him and you a group hug goodbye.
When you both got in the car, Loki's shoulders immediately relaxed and a small, relieved sigh came out of his mouth.
You laughed. "You were nervous!"
"I wasn't." He responded flatly, pulling out of the driveway.
"What was that sigh then?" You teased.
"... Do you think I made a good impression?"
You laughed harder, before putting a hand on his hand, which was resting beside him as he drove.
"Yup." You hummed, "They loved you, just like I do."
His smile softened immediately, taking a sweet glance at you.
"EYES ON THE ROAD!" You said quickly, startling him to look at the road quickly, seeing it was still the red light.
He deadpanned, flicking your forehead before looking back to the road, seeing it was now the green light. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Marry me." You giggled.
"Time out corner for you, Ms. Impossible."
"Ms. Loki."
"One thing at a time." He said, but a small, amused smile broke out across his face.
𝓥𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓪𝓷 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓸:
Immediately after you told Hugo that your parent(s) wanted to meet him, he got to work, quietly learning as much as he could about them and their interests.
When you said with a chuckle, "You're so devoted to learning about them."
He just responded with a straight face saying, "Because I'm devoted to you."
At that moment your heart melted.
In the approaching weeks, he asked so much about them that any stranger would have thought he was in love with them.
You found it really sweet though, as you could tell he wanted this to go really well.
Soon enough, the day came and it came to be a few hours before the dinner at a nice restaurant they all agreed on. Hugo dressed really nice, correlating his own outfit with yours so you matched.
You guys matched with your favorite color, which your parent(s) thought was very cute.
Hugo greeted your parent(s) very respectfully, giving them both a nice handshake.
During dinner he asked more about them, and brought up small stories you told him up to about a year ago.
They enjoyed talking with him a lot.
Then they asked, "What are your intentions with our daughter?"
Hugo took a sweet, loving, long glance at you before looking at them with a straight face and saying, "To make her happy, and stay by her side for as long as she wants me to."
Your parent(s) almost cried at that sentence, also giving a compliment on how sweet he was.
When the check came, before anyone could pay, he put his card down with a quiet smile like it was natural; a force of habit due to your battles to pay before the other.
After, your parent(s) hugged him and you goodbye and Hugo opened the door to the car for you, getting in after in the drivers side.
He then asked, "Did you like how today went?"
Your heart melted as it always did when he said things like this. He always checked on you before all else. "I did. They loved you."
"That's good," he paused, "because I love you."
You smiled, putting a hand on his. "I love you too."
𝓑𝓾𝓷𝓷𝔂 𝓘𝓰𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓼:
Bunny had always been easy to talk to; you knew this well. He definitely had a way with words. You were still nervous though that he was meeting your parent(s).
You kept thinking, 'What would they think of him?'
When you told Bunny that your parent(s) wanted to meet him, he got rather excited, shaking your nerves off a bit.
"Really? They want to meet me?" He asked, a grin stretching across his face.
"Yup." You said almost a little dazed at the thought.
In the weeks leading up to the day, he would ask you the cutest questions about your parent(s), his devotion unwavering.
He'd ask you things like, "Do they like joking around? Does your mother like to bake?"
"Does your Dad like to garden or do yard work?"
You'd chuckle, and answer the questions with a smile.
But the night before he called you on FaceTime and you saw the messiness of his kitchen very clearly.
Flour spatted on the counters and some on his face, sugar nearly falling out of the bag, and Bunny with his face and hands covered in who knows what ingredients!
“Bunny, what are you doing?” You said, trying not to laugh at his messy state.
“I’m baking shortbread cookies for your parent(s). You said they liked them!” He chuckled, continuing to shape the dough he made on the cutting board covered in flour.
Your heart melted.
But on the day of, he came dressed nicely as usual, and your parent(s) were delighted to see the goodies he brought with.
And let’s just say: they adored him.
He made them and you laugh so much, saying how he had a talent for making you laugh.
And you both even stayed longer than expected because you all were having so much fun.
At the end of the night when you guys were driving back you said, “I don’t know why I felt the tiniest bit of worry, they loved you!”
“Yeah, they’re amazing! I’m glad I made a good impression.” He placed a hand on yours with a wide grin.
isagi has spent so much of his life analyzing people that he notices things you don't even realize you're doing. you always hand him the prettier bowl when you're eating ramen together. when you walk on the sidewalk, you unconsciously switch places with him whenever a bike comes speeding by because you want to be closer to the road instead. when he's talking about football, your eyes never wander. you don't check your phone. you don't interrupt. you look at him like he's explaining the stars.
and one day he blurts out, "why do you always look at me like that?"
"like what?"
"like everything i'm saying matters."
"because it does?"
congratulations. you've accidentally turned the world's greatest striker into a microsoft windows error message yayayayayay!!!
he's smiling, but he's also looking away because his ears are bright red. his heart genuinely starts racing because, to him, being understood is infinitely more intimate than being admired.
whenever he gets home after training, you don't greet him with dramatic hugs or kisses. you just look up from whatever you're doing and instinctively scoot over on the couch. that's it. you made room. every. single. time.
eventually, he realizes you never even think about it anymore. your body just automatically saves space for him because somewhere along the line, your brain categorized him as home. he almost cries over six inches of couch cushion.
sometimes, while he's reviewing match footage late at night, you quietly sit beside him with your own hobby. maybe you're reading, drawing, playing a handheld game – anything. you don't ask him to stop working. you don't complain. you just exist beside him.
every so often he'll look over, see your head leaning against his shoulder without you realizing, and completely forget what tactical formation he was studying.
"yoichi?"
"... sorry."
"you okay?"
"i forgot football existed for a second. because… all i saw was you."
itoshi rin
rin isn't used to physical affection initiated without hesitation. so the first time you're walking together and absentmindedly fix his collar before anyone can see it crooked – because it bothered you – he actually stops walking.
"... what are you doing."
"your collar."
"... oh."
"is that okay?"
it’s totally okay to him, but his internal monologue is in complete shambles: she noticed. she touched me. she fixed it. she didn't even make a big deal about it. he spends the next four hours thinking about those three seconds.
whenever he's concentrating, you unconsciously reach over and smooth his hair back out of his face – a tiny little motion so he can see better. it starts becoming muscle memory for both of you. he'll be reading something, pause for half a second because a strand falls into his eyes… and wait. because he knows you'll move it.
when you do, he pretends absolutely nothing happened. inside? fireworks. outside? "thanks." inside? marry me right now.
the thing that absolutely destroys him is when you defend him without making him feel like he's incapable. someone says, "rin's kind of an asshole." before he can even respond–
"he's actually really considerate."
"?"
"he remembered i said i liked this drink three months ago and bought it without asking."
rin stops. you noticed. nobody notices. nobody looks past the sharp edges. but you always do.
and now he has to stare out the window for the next 20 minutes because if he looks at you, he's afraid the expression on his face might give him away.
itoshi sae
sae isn't very verbally affectionate. neither are you. that’s why you’re the perfect match.
the way you love him is by remembering microscopic details. one afternoon you're at a café, and before the waiter even asks, you order for yourself, then look at sae.
"and no fries with his."
sae blinks. "... i wasn't going to say anything."
"i know."
"you remembered."
"you don't like them."
it's such an insignificant thing, but somebody remembered something about him that everyone else forgets. he's cooked.
every time you take pictures together, you never ask him to smile. you know he won't. rather instead, you quietly tell him – "look at me." and you take the photo while he's already looking at you. every picture ends up softer. the only time his expression naturally changes is when he's looking at someone he loves.
when you show him afterward, he’ll say, "oh wow… this one's nice."
"yeah."
"i’m keeping it."
at home, he's secretly changing it to his lock screen three hours later.
after particularly exhausting matches, you never ask him how he played. you ask – "how's your body?"
"’s fine."
"don't lie."
"... my legs hurt."
"i figured." you already have pain patches in your bag.
sae has spent years being valued for what he can produce on the pitch. you ask about him, not his performance. it ruins him every single time.
nagi seishiro
nagi's favorite thing in the entire world becomes when you're doing absolutely nothing together. you're both lying on the bed. you're scrolling on your phone. he's playing a game.
at some point, completely unconsciously, your thigh reaches over until it's touching his. that's all. he glances down. then at you.
"did you mean to do that?"
"huh?" you look down. "oh." you never even noticed. "sorry."
"don't move." now his entire body feels warm. the fact that your body naturally searches for his without permission? he's finished.
every time he falls asleep somewhere ridiculous – couch, airport chair, team bus, hotel lobby – you automatically cover him with your hoodie or coat or jacket if you have one.
one day, he wakes up before you realize he's awake. he watches you gently pull your jacket over him before going back to whatever you were doing.
"... thanks."
"oh, you're awake."
"... do you always do that?"
"yeah?"
"why?"
"because you get cold."
he has never wanted to marry someone more over a sentence that simple.
whenever he gets excited talking about games, you don't pretend to understand. you actually ask questions. like "wait, so that's the final boss?"
"yeah."
"that's sick."
"right?"
now he's talking with his hands, sitting up straighter, rambling for 15 straight minutes. halfway through, he pauses. "sorry."
"for what?"
"i've been talking forever."
"i know."
"you don't mind?"
"i like hearing you happy."
game over. you have defeated nagi seishiro without even picking up the controller.
mikage reo
reo gives people things all the time – gifts, favors, opportunities, expensive dinners, the list goes on. what nobody gives him is the chance to be taken care of first.
one rainy day, before he can even open the umbrella he's carrying, you've already opened yours above both of your heads.
"mine's literally in my hand."
"yeah, but this one's already open."
"you..." he laughs. but for the next 10 minutes he cannot stop smiling because nobody has ever beaten him to taking care of someone else.
you hype him up when nobody's watching. after practice, while he's complaining about a mistake, you gently cut him off. "you know..."
"hm?"
"i think you're cooler than you realize."
"... where did that come from?"
"just thought you should know."
there’s no audience, teammates, cameras, or reason to flatter him. just pure honesty. and that's exactly why it sticks. he remembers that sentence for months, especially during the harder moments.
every once in a while, you reach for his hand first. sometimes you're asking for reassurance. other times, you just wanted to hold it. reo has initiated hand-holding thousands of times. but the first time you absentmindedly intertwine your fingers with his while walking through the city, he completely loses his train of thought mid-sentence.
"reo?"
"... yeah?"
"weren't you saying something?"
"... i was."
"?"
"... i forgot." because all he can think is that you chose him first. he didn’t offer, nor did he ask. loving him has become your first instinct.
for someone who's spent his entire life wondering whether people loved him or simply loved what he could give, that quiet certainty makes him fall for you all over again.
bachira meguru
bachira absolutely lives for physical affection, but the thing that gets him the worst isn't when he clings to you. it's when you start unconsciously copying him.
one afternoon, he's sprawled across the couch, doodling in a notebook while you read beside him. without even realizing it, you lean over until your head is resting against his shoulder. you don't even look up from your book. you just, like, migrate. like your body decided, yeah, this is a comfortable place to be.
bachira stops drawing. "... you're cuddling me."
"am i?"
"yeah."
"... should i–"
“no. don't move."
he sits there grinning so hard his cheeks hurt because the affection wasn't asked for, wasn't planned, wasn't even conscious. your body sought him out before your brain did. the monster is literally kicking his feet.
you never laugh at his weirdness. you laugh with it. he says something completely absurd like, "what if pigeons have secret governments?"
and instead of staring at him like he's insane, you nod seriously. "that explains why they're always in groups."
"RIGHT???"
now the two of you are spending 25 minutes building an elaborate conspiracy theory about pigeons running the economy.
afterward, he just looks at you with stars in his eyes. "you're my favorite person."
"because i support your delusions?"
"because you make them fun."
bachira has spent his life being called strange. you make him feel like strange is simply another word for home.
sometimes he'll wake up before you. he'll find you half-asleep, instinctively reaching around the bed until your hand finds him. the second your fingers brush against his arm, your hand relaxes, like your brain went, found him. okay. continue sleeping.
bachira nearly combusts. he has to physically bite his lip to stop himself from squealing (and waking you up).
shidou ryusei
everyone expects shidou's relationship to be loud, chaotic, explosive. what absolutely destroys him is how unbelievably gentle you are with him. after a rough match, he's bouncing off the walls, adrenaline still pumping. but surprisingly, you don’t tell him to calm down... you simply walk over, cup his face with both hands, and quietly ask, "you done breaking people's ankles today?"
"... yeah."
"good."
“... you gonna kiss me or keep holding my face?"
"i'm checking for bruises."
shidou thinks this feeling is better than scoring the winning goal.
he has spent his entire life being treated like something people had to manage. you're standing here making sure his cheek doesn't hurt. you're one of the only people who can make him genuinely blush. how? complimenting him when he's not doing something cool.
you catch him tying his hair up. "you're pretty."
"what?"
"nothing. that slipped out.."
"HEY!"
"hm?"
"... don't say stuff like that so casually."
"why?"
"because… my heart's doing weird things."
he loves kisses. you know what he loves even more? when you randomly hold the back of his neck. not even romantically. maybe you're guiding him around someone in a crowded hallway or fixing the collar of his shirt or absentmindedly rubbing the nape of his neck while talking. every single time, his brain completely blue-screens.
"you know that's unfair."
"what is?"
"that."
"what is that?"
"... you touching my neck."
"oh?"
"... i forget my own name for a second."
karasu tabito
karasu is sarcastic by nature. he teases everyone, especially you. so the first time you effortlessly beat him at his own game... he's intrigued. he says, "damn, look at ya. finally usin’ that brain."
without looking up from your phone, you answer, "thanks. i learned from watching you struggle."
"... excuse me?"
"you heard me."
his teammates are laughing. you're smiling innocently. and karasu... karasu is trying very hard not to smile like an idiot. that's my person.
you always notice when he's mentally tired before he says anything. he's still talking, joking, and acting like himself. but you quietly slide a drink toward him. "you've been talking for like... three hours."
"... have i?"
"yeah."
"damn."
"rest your voice."
he stares at the bottle for a second. everyone notices when karasu is loud. you notice when he's exhausted.
every once in a while, while he's ranting about literally anything, you'll reach over and absentmindedly play with his fingers. you're still listening and responding. you're just tracing one because your hands wanted something to do. karasu completely loses his train of thought.
"you okay, tabi? you can keep talking."
"... can't."
"why?"
"... yer holdin’ my hand without holdin’ my hand. that's kinda– really dangerous."
kaiser michael
kaiser expects admiration. he's used to people staring, praising, chasing, adoring. what absolutely dismantles him is when you quietly do something thoughtful that nobody else would ever think about.
you've noticed he always finishes the drink closest to room temperature first before touching the cold one. so one afternoon, you casually swap the cups around before handing them to him.
"... how'd you know?"
"you always do it."
"you noticed that?"
"i notice a lot."
for someone who has spent his whole career being looked at... being observed is infinitely more intimate. after all, observation requires attention.
sometimes you'll adjust his collar while talking to him. you don't interrupt yourself or announce it. you simply straighten the fabric because it flipped backwards. "there."
"ah, thanks.” kaiser is internally screaming because your fingers brushed his chest for half a second and you treated it like the most natural thing in the world, like touching him is simply part of your routine. it makes him feel normal and cherished – something he never thought he'd crave.
after interviews, everyone talks about his goals or his aura or his ego. you look at him and ask, "did you eat yet?"
"... no."
"figured.”
"... that's all you're gonna ask?"
"unless you secretly scored six goals instead of two."
"i only scored two."
"cool. now let's get dinner."
he laughs so softly it's almost inaudible.
for an hour, the entire world treated him like michael kaiser. then he came back to you and you treated him like someone worth feeding before celebrating.
ness alexis
ness loves talking. okay wait, correction: ness loves talking to you. because unlike everyone else, you never make him feel annoying. he'll spend 15 straight minutes explaining some ridiculously niche topic. halfway through, he pauses. "am i talking too much?"
"probably. but keep going."
"... really?"
"you're making cute little hand gestures."
"... you noticed my hand gestures?"
you have accidentally rendered alexis ness speechless.
whenever you're walking together, you unconsciously fix tiny things about him – lint on his sleeve, his crooked tie, hair sticking up. you never even mention it. just… boop. fixed. every single time.
eventually, he starts standing still whenever you get close. "nessie baby, what are you doing?"
"... waiting."
"for?"
"... you usually fix something."
"oh." you smooth one stubborn strand of hair back into place. he smiles so brightly you'd think you handed him the moon. he’s just so addicted to your touch.
the thing that absolutely gets him bad is when you brag about him to other people while he's close enough to overhear. someone asks, "is ness always this talkative?"
you grin. "yeah. but i like it."
"really?"
"he gets excited over the smallest things. i think it's adorable."
ness was fully prepared for you to apologize on his behalf. but rather, you defended the very thing he worries makes him "too much." he has to turn away for a second because his eyes suddenly sting. then five minutes later, he's right back beside you, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
"... hey."
"yeah?"
"... can i hold your hand?"
"you were already doing that."
"... oh. haha. good."
chigiri hyoma
chigiri is used to people complimenting him. his speed, his face, his hair – sometimes all three in the same sentence. but the thing that completely catches him off guard is when you're the one who quietly takes care of his hair after practice.
the two of you are sitting in the locker room after everyone else has started leaving, and he's absentmindedly trying to tie his still-damp hair into a ponytail with one hand while looking at his phone.
you sigh. "give me."
"hm?"
"the hair tie.”
"oh." he hands it over without thinking.
you stand behind him, gently combing your fingers through his hair before tying it up properly, smoothing out the little bumps like you've done it a hundred times. "too tight?"
"no."
he catches his reflection in the mirror afterward. his hair is neat and comfortable, exactly how he likes it. "wow. thanks."
"you're welcome."
he doesn't tell you this, but nobody has ever touched his hair so carefully without making it feel like they were admiring it. you handled it like it was simply another part of him. that's infinitely more intimate. he feels like he’s going crazy because of that.
whenever you're shopping together, you'll instinctively reach toward the clothing racks before he does. "this would look good on you."
"you think so?"
"yeah. and this color would make your eyes stand out."
he's trying on sweaters he would've walked right past, scarves he'd never have picked, jackets he didn't know he'd like. he realizes halfway through that you don't dress him because he's pretty. you dress him because you've spent enough time looking at him to know exactly what makes him feel like himself.
the changing room curtain closes. he leans against the wall. she pays way too much attention to me... and he hopes you never stop.
you never rush him after difficult matches. everyone else asks, "are you okay?" you simply hold your hand out. "ready?"
he looks at it. then at you. "... yeah." he takes it, your fingers wrapped around his as you walk beside him in comfortable silence.
he thinks that's probably what healing feels like.
barou shoei
barou would rather pass away than admit he likes being taken care of. so naturally... you don't make a big deal out of doing it. you come over to his apartment. he's cooking. you notice the cabinet above him is open. without interrupting your conversation, you reach up and close it before he inevitably walks into it.
"thanks."
"mhm."
10 minutes later, you wipe a tiny streak of flour off his cheek while continuing your story like nothing happened. "and then she actually said–"
"you just touched my face."
"yeah?"
"... why?"
"because you had flour on it."
"... oh." he's genuinely offended by how quickly his heart folded.
barou pretends he doesn't need reassurance. but after losses... he gets quieter. one night, he's sitting on the balcony staring into the distance. you don't tell him he played well. you don't tell him to cheer up. you simply sit beside him until your shoulders touch. after a while, you quietly say, "i'm still proud of you."
he exhales so slowly you almost miss it. "don't say stuff like that."
"why?"
"... because i'll start believing you."
you smile. "good."
he has to look away because if he doesn't, you'll see exactly how close he is to folding.
the quickest way to make barou malfunction is by trusting him before he even asks. it’s a crowded street. you're distracted. without looking, you reach for his hand. you already know he'll be there. your fingers slip between his naturally.
barou forgets what he was about to say. all his brain can manage is – she reached for me first.
don't expect him to let go for the next hour.
yukimiya kenyu
yukimiya knows people look at him. he's a handsome model that’s used to being perceived. but you? you make him feel seen. one evening, you're helping him pack for an away match. you quietly tuck an extra pair of sunglasses into the side pocket of his bag.
"i already packed one, love."
"i know."
"then…?"
"because last month you couldn't find yours and spent almost half an hour pretending the sun wasn't bothering you."
"... you remembered that?"
"of course i did."
yukimiya just stares at you. he barely remembers saying anything about it. yet you remembered it well.
he'll be talking passionately about fashion or photography, expecting you to politely nod. instead, you go – "wait, show me."
"hm?"
"the picture you're talking about."
"really?"
"yeah. i wanna see what you see."
that sentence alone nearly knocks the wind out of him.
people always admire his perspective. very few people actually want to step inside it. you do.
whenever the sunlight gets too harsh, you'll instinctively move so you're casting a little bit of shade over him. you don't even notice you're doing it. you're just standing slightly in front of him while talking.
"why're you standing there?"
"huh?"
"you're blocking the sun."
"oh. it's getting in your eyes, right?"
his chest aches. you notice before he even says a word.
iglesias bunny
bunny is constantly moving as a member of the new gen 11. there’s always cameras, interviews, training, flights, etc. you're the only person who never makes him feel like he has to perform.
the thing that gets him every single time is when you greet him exactly the same whether he's just won the champions league... or lost in the quarterfinals.
"hi."
"hi."
"i missed you."
"i missed you, too."
no "congratulations!" no "i'm sorry." those can wait. your first instinct is always him. not the footballer. your boyfriend. and every single time, he melts.
bunny loves making you laugh, but what absolutely folds him is when he catches you smiling at him before he notices. he'll be joking around with his teammates across the room. then he glances over. you're already looking, smiling to yourself, like watching him exist makes you happy.
"what is it, cariño?"
"nothing."
"you're smiling."
"am i not allowed to?"
he has to physically look away. if he keeps eye contact any longer, he's going to walk over and kiss you in front of everybody.
one day, he complains that his hands are freezing after training. without thinking, you take one of his hands and tuck it into the pocket of your coat while keeping yours in there, too. "there."
"that's your solution?"
"it's working."
"..."
"are you okay…?"
"don't move."
"why?"
"because i'm imagining doing this when we're 80 and wrinkly.”
hugo vivian
hugo has a naturally intimidating presence. he has broad shoulders and quiet confidence, the kind of guy strangers instinctively move out of the way for. you, however, have absolutely zero fear of invading his personal space.
if there's a loose thread on his sleeve? you're already pulling it off. his tie's crooked? fixed. lint on his coat? gone. all while continuing your conversation as though adjusting a six-foot-something professional footballer is the most normal thing in the world.
"you know..."
"yes?”
"you've never once asked before touching me."
you blink. "i’m sorry. do you want me to?"
“no. please keep doing it." the volume of his voice is like a whisper.
hugo isn't particularly expressive. so you've learned to celebrate the little victories. one tiny smile after training? "there it is."
"what is?"
"your smile."
"... i smiled?"
"for like... half a second."
he is absolutely doomed. you notice everything.
one rainy afternoon in paris, the two of you are sharing an umbrella. a passing car splashes water toward the sidewalk. before hugo can react... you've already stepped in front of him. the water hits your shoes instead.
"hey, why did you do that?"
"instinct?"
"i'm supposed to protect you."
you shrug. "guess we're protecting each other."
he looks at you for a long moment. then quietly carries you on his back for the rest of the walk home because he refuses to let your shoes get soaked any further.
there isn't a single teasing remark or joke. just a grip that's a little tighter than usual because, for perhaps the first time in his life, someone else's first instinct was to shield him, too.
The Blue Lock Boys trying to measure your hand size differences ᡣ𐭩
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summary: the blue lock boys trying to measure the differences between your hand and theirs | mutual pinning
content: fluff & crack, they are all pulling
featuring: -> isagi, bachira, nagi & reo | character icons & gif divider credits go to pinterest <3
isagi:
۶۟ৎ isagi definitely saw a couple doing this on tiktok or while he was scrolling on his phone
۶۟ৎ so this boy would come up to you, playing this off as super slick, and casually just goes “hey name, can i see your hand for a second?”
۶۟ৎ he puts his hand flat against your hand first, before lacing your hand with his (the flat hand thing was when he noticed, and he goes “oh wow…”, just barely a whisper so you didn’t really notice)
۶۟ৎ he says “thanks name,” before flashing that grin of his and walking away, as if nothing happened (he’s pulling the huzz)
۶۟ৎ your left there standing flustered, because that was your crush, THE isagi yoichi, who just laced hands with you
bachira
۶۟ৎ he’s his usual joyful self at the park when he basically runs up to you before screaming "NAME! NAME! NAME! I WANNA SEE SOMETHING COME HERE!”
۶۟ৎ you smile at him, before walking to him, asking him what he wants
۶۟ৎ bachira doesn’t really care if he’s being obvious or not, he just lifts your hand against his, and yells “LOOK! my hand is much bigger than yours!” before he smiles
۶۟ৎ he then laces your hand from the measuring position and drags you away when he sees an ice cream cart
۶۟ৎ you just nod and get dragged by him, because damn he’s holding your hand (he’s also pulling the huzz)
nagi:
۶۟ৎ your watching him play games when he suddenly looks up and grabs your hand, and puts it flat against his and this man simply goes "oh. that’s a difference” before he drops your hand, and resumes his game
۶۟ৎ you stare at him, but don’t press anything because you know nagi will just look at you sleepily and not say anything
۶۟ৎ (we all know HE’S the one blushing inside cause he just held hands with the huzz)
reo:
۶۟ৎ okay, i feel reo would be somewhat shy & bold at the same time
۶۟ৎ like it would be during a fan event where reo is signing autographs and you hand him his waterbottle
۶۟ৎ just like the romance movies your hands would touch and he would take this moment to gently pry the bottle out of your hand, flatten his hand against yours, and measure
۶۟ৎ he would be blushing after the difference and you can see it n his face
۶۟ৎ you just stare at him before pulling your hand away, blushing as well
۶۟ৎhighkey reo would just run back onto the field, covering his face
۶۟ৎ bf!kaiser who loves when you get him blue roses, and in return he gets you your favorite flowers (even better if you get him them as an after match victory gift)
۶۟ৎ bf!kaiser who asks you if you can try new hair styles on him (i know he’d look so good with his hair up in a messy pony tail)
۶۟ৎ bf!kaiser who you would have matching rose tattoos with (he loves it so much)
۶۟ৎ bf!kaiser who always slings an arm around your shoulder and smirks when paparazzi wants photos of you two (he know you two are absolutely gorgeous together)
۶۟ৎ bf!kaiser who learned what it's meant to be truly loved from you <3
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sae:
۶۟ৎ bf!sae who secretly gets a sense of happiness every time he spots you at one of his matches (he’d rather say that bunny is an amazing soccer player then admit it tho)
۶۟ৎ bf!sae who likes late night walks or drives with you in the pretty cityscape of madrid
۶۟ৎ bf!sae who’s memorized your regular order at your favorite coffee shop (anything about you at this point, if you mention liking something once to this man, he will remember it)
۶۟ৎ bf!sae whose cologne smell just the beach, breezy, just with a hint of the salty, fresh ocean
۶۟ৎ bf!sae who likes watching horror movies with you
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bunny:
۶۟ৎ bf!bunny who’s carefree around paparazzi and always holds your hands when he’s signing autographs or taking pictures (this man would not go out in disguise)
۶۟ৎ bf!bunny who loves to tease you with both english and spanish pet names (he calls you cariño on a daily basis)
۶۟ৎ bf!bunny who would love being the big spoon when you two cuddle
۶۟ৎ bf!bunny who regularly takes you out on dates to the most fanciest, and prettiest restaurants ever in barcelona
۶۟ৎ bf!bunny who loves it when you trace over the scar on his face
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hugo:
۶۟ৎ bf!hugo who let you do his lashes and put mascara on them (his lashes are extremely pretty, his teammates notice, and charles teases him)
۶۟ৎ bf!hugo who’s strong, and can easily pick you up bridal style, or any way you want him to
۶۟ৎ bf!hugo who you drag along to go see butterflies. burgundy, or any other ones in the shade red (their his favorite animal after all)
۶۟ৎ bf!hugo who cooks for you, he’s a good chef, and the french dishes he makes are delicious
۶۟ৎ bf!hugo who loves you, and by love i mean smitten, this boy loves you
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lorenzo:
۶۟ৎ bf!lorezno who you also get a gold tooth implant for in order to match his implants <3
۶۟ৎ bf!lorenzo who loves it when you come to his matches, cheering him on
۶۟ৎ bf!lorenzo who likes plants (i feel like he would have a collection of plants and talk to them)
۶۟ৎ bf!lorenzo who has a chain with your name on it
۶۟ৎ bf!lorenzo who knows the best date spots around in italy (he would like fast food stores and just hanging out with you, or arcades i feel like)
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loki:
۶۟ৎ bf!loki who likes to take you with him on his morning jogs, listening to music together while he takes you to trails filled with beautiful scenery
۶۟ৎ bf!loki who definitely won every single one of his track and field events
۶۟ৎ bf!loki who you help look after charles (you and charles are best friends, let’s be honest)
۶۟ৎ bf!loki who gives you small, but expensive, meaningful gifts, such as pandora bracelets with the charms you mentioned liking
۶۟ৎ bf!loki who loves to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, especially when your cooking (he loves your cooking)
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teddy:
۶۟ৎ bf!teddy who is quite literally your knight in shining armour (i feel like he would be a big fan of small gestures like holding the car door open for you)
۶۟ৎ bf!teddy who likes walks (he’ll hold your hand during walks <3)
۶۟ৎ bf!teddy whose cologne would smell like vanilla & cinnamon <3
۶۟ৎ bf!teddy who enjoys quiet activities with you, like reading or rewatching matches together
۶۟ৎ bf!teddy who’ll find you with a teddy bear at his matches
you don't even realize you've accidentally posted one of the hardest soft-launch-adjacent boyfriend photos known to mankind until your notifications start looking like they're under attack because it's just a candid after the world cup final, confetti still stuck in his hair, his jersey wrinkled from 90+ minutes of war, and he's standing next to you with that stupidly bright grin while biting down on his gold medal like every athlete before him, except he's looking at you instead of the camera because the photographer said, "look over here!" and he heard your laugh instead.
you're standing beside him looking equally exhausted, your own hand still wrapped around his because you grabbed him the second the whistle blew and apparently never let go, and the funniest part is that the picture doesn't even scream "we're trying to be a couple." it more so gives "we forgot there were cameras because we've been celebrating together for the last 15 minutes.”
every guy looking at the story immediately notices three things in order: he's handsome, he won the world cup, and the first person he looked at wasn't the trophy or the crowd... it was you.
the caption makes it even worse because it's so confident without trying too hard: "crush em 🥇"
every football edit account is reposting it because the picture radiates the exact energy of, "yeah, we won. what about it?" and every guy is sitting there wondering why one tiny two-word caption feels like psychological warfare.
itoshi rin – “merry-go-round of life” by joe hisaishi
your story isn't glamorous whatsoever, which makes it infinitely more devastating because you're sitting on the floor in oversized pajamas, completely folded into your plush blanket with your legs crossed like you're eight years old again, absolutely locked into howl's moving castle playing across the TV as your eyes follow howl gracefully walking across the screen like your life depends on it.
what you don't know is that rin quietly picked up his phone halfway through the movie because he looked over at you for what was supposed to be one second and accidentally spent an embarrassing amount of time just... staring.
the picture he takes is painfully domestic. you're looking upward at the TV, completely unaware. rin is sitting directly behind you, one knee bent, his chin resting against your shoulder like that's simply where it belongs, his face tilted slightly toward your neck, and – against every law of nature – there's the smallest smile on his face.
i’m talking about that microscopic little smile people have to zoom in three times to confirm they're actually seeing. the smile reserved exclusively for someone who has absolutely no idea they're being looked at like they're the ending credits to a peaceful life.
the comments from your friends immediately become:
"IS THAT... RIN SMILING????"
"HELLO????"
"he looks like he wants to crawl inside your skin (respectfully)."
every guy who watches your story suddenly remembers they've never looked at anyone like that before and quietly exits instagram.
your caption absolutely buries them: "i was distracted by howl, but rin was distracted by something else."
rin pretends he hates that caption. but he totally saves the story before it expires.
itoshi sae – “cariño” by the marias
everybody expects your first story after spain wins the champions league to be a picture of sae lifting the trophy with his teammates. instead, it's you. because the first thing sae did after receiving the trophy wasn't lift it toward the cameras. it was walk over to you.
he wordlessly placed the entire world cup trophy into your hands despite it weighing way more than you expected, and the exact moment you made the most surprised face imaginable because of how heavy it actually was… he leaned over and kissed your cheek.
the photographer captured the exact frame where your eyes went wide, your mouth opened in complete surprise, one hand nearly slipping off the trophy because your brain temporarily stopped functioning, while sae looked entirely unfazed by the fact that he'd just hijacked every camera in the stadium.
he isn't even smiling. he's just looking at you like kissing you after becoming world champion was the most logical next step.
the trophy becomes the second thing everyone notices. the first thing everyone notices is that the coldest footballer alive apparently becomes casually affectionate around exactly one person.
your caption? "i almost dropped the trophy because of him 😭😭”
every sports page reposts it. every comment section becomes:
"he gave HER the trophy????"
“i'd retire immediately if i lost the champions league and saw this on my feed."
“everything i pray for god gives to sae itoshi and doubles it ”
nagi seishiro – “there’s no other” by felly
it's literally just an elevator mirror selfie. that's it. plain lighting in four boring walls. except nagi decided to flex one arm for absolutely no reason whatsoever after coming back from the gym, and instead of standing normally beside him like any reasonable girlfriend… you're hanging off his flexed bicep with both arms wrapped around it like a tiny koala.
your feet aren't even touching the floor anymore. you're fully committed, dangling, smiling like your life is wonderful.
on the other hand, nagi looks completely expressionless in the mirror as if carrying your entire body weight with one arm requires approximately zero effort.
the funniest part is that one of your shoes is visibly swinging in midair because you started laughing halfway through taking the picture.
every guy who sees it immediately starts calculating whether they, too, could casually hold their girlfriend off the ground with one arm. the answer is no.
nagi doesn't even notice why the story goes viral. he just says, “did people like your outfit or something? i mean those sweatpants were really cute…"
your caption makes it infinitely worse: "my favorite jungle gym."
nagi reposts it with absolutely no additional text. because, in his mind… it’s accurate.
mikage reo – “chicken on tree screaming”
nobody has context. nobody needs context. the picture alone tells the entire story.
reo is caught perfectly mid-fall after you planted the most disrespectful little kick directly into the back of his calves while he was walking ahead of you, his knees buckling just enough for his expensive balance to completely betray him as one designer sneaker leaves the ground and both arms instinctively shoot forward to catch himself.
you're standing one meter behind him absolutely crying with laughter because you managed to catch the exact frame where he realized he'd been attacked by the love of his life in broad daylight.
what makes it even funnier is that the picture was obviously taken using burst mode because every swipe after that is just reo slowly recovering while pointing at you in fake betrayal.
he wasn't hurt. but his pride absolutely was.
every single one of his teammates replies with variations of:
"LMAOOOOOOOO."
"deserved.”
"she finally humbled you bro."
reo immediately reposts it saying, "this is domestic terrorism."
your original caption, however, completely steals the show: "i make his knees weak 😍"
every guy reading it physically has to put their phone down because you've turned playful assault into the cutest couple post of the week.
reo complains for exactly five minutes before secretly making the burst photos his favorites because, in his words, "it's nice knowing i'm the reason you laugh like that."
bachira meguru – “cooking mama” song
this entire situation starts because bachira decides that walking is "too much work" after training, spots you sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone, and without asking a single question, simply walks over, turns around, and plops his entire body weight directly onto you like you're a human beanbag.
except he doesn't sit next to you. he sits ON you completely – legs folded, elbows on his knees, humming to himself.
you're underneath him making the most dramatic face imaginable because this grown professional footballer somehow weighs approximately one million pounds despite looking like he lives exclusively on monster energy and bad decisions.
"megs."
"hm?"
"i'm… literally dying…"
"no, you're not."
"my ancestors can… see me..."
"tell them i said hi."
your friend walks into the living room, immediately starts laughing instead of helping, pulls out their phone, and snaps the picture before either of you can react.
the final image is criminal. bachira is smiling so brightly he practically has cartoon sparkles around him while completely unaware (or maybe fully aware) of the fact that your face is visibly squished into the couch cushions underneath him, one arm sticking out dramatically like you're reaching toward heaven for salvation.
every single reply is some variation of:
"GET UP???"
"FREE HER."
“i think you’re suffocating her…"
your caption? "this FATASS."
bachira's only response is sending you seventeen crying emojis before sitting on you again out of spite.
shidou ryusei – “careless whisper” by george michael
you thought making dinner together would be romantic, genuinely, like a domestic diaries dream come true. candles? maybe. music? matching aprons? no.
instead, you're approximately 12 seconds away from calling the fire department. because shidou caused an ordinary pan to erupt into a genuinely concerning wall of flames that's reaching so high it almost kisses the range hood, and rather than reacting like a normal human being… shidou is loving every second of it.
your mutual friend had volunteered to take cute candid pictures of the two of you cooking together, expecting wholesome domestic content. what they actually captured belongs in a museum.
you're clutching the spatula with both hands while leaning as far away from the stove as physically possible, eyes wide, mouth open, visibly screaming something along the lines of, "RYUSEI, WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'LET IT COOK'?"
shidou is standing beside you grinning like the world's biggest menace, tongue sticking out, one hand on his hip while the other confidently points at the inferno as if he personally invented fire. "LOOK AT THAT FLAME!"
"THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!"
"IT LOOKS AWESOME!"
"WE'RE GOING TO DIE!"
"BUT WE'LL DIE FLAVORFUL."
that's the picture your friend sends you afterward. somehow… it's adorable. people can't decide whether they're witnessing relationship goals or an insurance claim.
your caption perfectly summarizes the relationship. "he said dinner was gonna be fire. should've asked him to elaborate."
shidou reposts it with: "worth it btw."
the smoke detector can actually be heard in the background of the next story.
karasu tabito – “DEVOTION” by justin bieber
everyone assumes something horrible must've happened because the picture is just you clocking karasu across the face with a fluffy pillow at full force while feathers are literally exploding into the air like an action movie.
the timing is so perfect that karasu's head has already started turning from the impact, one eye squeezed shut, mouth still half-open because he didn't even get to finish whatever sentence got him into this situation.
the funniest part is that he isn't defending himself. because deep down… he knows he earned it.
five seconds before the picture was taken, he'd looked you dead in the eyes with the most insufferable smirk imaginable and said something so unbelievably sarcastic that your soul temporarily left your body.
"ya look… acceptable."
WHACK.
"... aight… fair enough… i deserved that."
your friend, instead of intervening like a responsible adult, nearly drops their phone from laughing before managing to capture the exact moment justice was served.
everyone immediately starts replying:
"WHAT DID HE SAY."
"I JUST KNOW HE DESERVED THAT."
"CONTEXT???"
karasu refuses to provide context. he knows the mystery somehow makes him look guiltier. and also, he’d rather keep some things private, too, as they’re more special that way.
but your caption? "he opened his mouth."
yeah… explanation unnecessary.
kaiser michael – “the shining” by the neighbourhood
it was supposed to be one of those breathtakingly romantic pictures you'd frame someday – a field overflowing with wildflowers stretching across the horizon, golden hour, soft sunlight, cinematic breeze. everything was literally perfect. except the weather decided it personally hated michael kaiser.
the wind absolutely adores you. your hair lifts beautifully around your face like you're starring in the final scene of an award-winning romance film, the flowers swaying gently around your ankles while you look effortlessly majestic.
then there's kaiser. his expensive hairstyle is experiencing total structural collapse. blue-tipped blond strands keep slapping him directly across the face. one piece ends up in his mouth. he's squinting so aggressively against the wind that he accidentally looks annoyed instead of handsome.
you're standing beside him looking like a literal renaissance painting, mogging him.
he sees the picture afterward. "delete it."
"no."
"i look ridiculous."
"i look ethereal."
"... exactly."
he still secretly saves it because despite looking like mother nature personally jumped him… you're smiling at him. and that's enough.
the caption absolutely twists the knife: "one of us got the disney princess treatment 🌼"
everyone already knows which one.
kaiser pretends to hate the post. then quietly makes it his lock screen because it's his favorite picture of you. he just crops himself out.
ness alexis – “gangnam style” by PSY
the two of you stumble across a tiny café with no sign, no social media, and approximately four tables outside, deciding that places like this always have either the greatest drinks imaginable or the absolute worst beverages ever conceived. naturally, you both order something neither of you can pronounce.
your first sip? incredible. your entire face lights up immediately, eyes widening as you excitedly shove your drink toward ness insisting, "oh my gosh, taste this."
he trusts you. poor decision. the exact moment he takes a sip, every muscle in his face begins filing for resignation. his nose wrinkles. one eye closes. his eyebrows knit together. his lips purse into the tiniest offended pout.
he's trying so desperately to be polite because the owner is literally watching from inside… but his face has already betrayed him.
you're sitting across from him absolutely beaming because your drink tastes like heaven while trying (and failing) not to laugh at the tiny crisis unfolding across the table.
a friend walking past recognizes the two of you, quietly snaps the picture through the café window, and sends it later.
it's one of your favorite pictures ever. ness's little sour expression is painfully adorable. he looks like an angry kitten that accidentally licked a lemon. you tell him that.
he sighs. “i'm never trusting your recommendations in drinks again."
10 minutes later, he's stealing sips from your cup anyway.
your caption? "he's so dramatic."
ness immediately messages you. "i did NOT make that face."
you send the picture back.
typing… typing… "... okay maybe i did."
chigiri hyoma – “bad thing (bunny hop)” by ariana grande
everyone thinks it's going to be some breathtakingly aesthetic couple photo because, let's be honest, it's the two of you. the lighting is perfect, the background is pretty and chigiri manages to look like he walked straight out of a luxury skincare campaign without even trying.
except… neither of you is looking at the camera. you're looking at each other.
specifically, you're giving him the most unimpressed side-eye imaginable because he'd spent the last 20 minutes deliberately poking your cheek every time you tried to take a nice picture.
"stop moving."
poke.
"hyoma."
poke.
"i swear to–”
"your angry face is cute."
"oh you're about to see a cuter one."
the photographer catches the exact second where you've finally turned your head to glare at him. chigiri is already looking back. and despite wearing the exact same mildly smug expression he always has… there's the tiniest smile hiding at the corner of his mouth because he knows you're not actually mad.
it's the kind of look that says, you annoy me… but i like you anyway.
every girl comments about how pretty chigiri is.
every guy comments about how they wish someone looked at them with that much fond exasperation.
your caption says everything: "he's lucky he's pretty."
chigiri immediately reposts it: "still your favorite."
ugh he's right.
barou shoei – “otsukare summer” by HALCALI
barou has spent years cultivating the most intimidating public image possible – a terrifying and untouchable king with an aura so overwhelming defenders start reconsidering their career choices.
and then you discover snapchat filters. specifically… the one that gives someone gigantic glossy anime eyes, rosy cheeks, fluttering eyelashes, and tiny sparkly cat ears.
he only let you take one picture because you promised that nobody else would ever see it. you technically keep your promise. because it's only on your close friends story. which, unfortunately for him… includes half the blue lock facility.
the picture itself is absolutely catastrophic. barou is sitting there with the most aggressively serious expression imaginable while sporting giant sparkling eyes and pink blush that makes him look like a magical girl who's about to transform. the contrast makes it 10x funnier.
he doesn't even know how filters work. "why's my face like that?"
"because you're pretty."
"delete it."
"no."
"i'm serious."
"so is the filter."
your caption? "barou, barou-kyun!! 🩷"
barou finds out approximately four minutes later because his teammates refuse to stop laughing.
your phone receives exactly one message: "you're cleaning the entire house."
yukimiya kenyu – “juicy” by doja cat
this picture genuinely looks suspicious out of context, which is exactly why you posted it. yukimiya is standing, hands tucked into his pockets, back facing the camera while he casually turns his head over his shoulder. he looks like he's posing for the cover of a magazine, naturally. because that's just what yukimiya does by existing.
you're crouched behind him, one hand planted directly on his ass. your eyes are comically wide. your mouth is hanging open in fake disbelief. you're staring at your own hand like you've just unearthed an ancient archaeological treasure. the friend taking the picture is laughing so hard the image is almost blurry.
yukimiya sighs. "are you done?"
"i'm conducting scientific research."
"on what?"
"cake.”
"... in the public server?”
people online cannot decide whether to laugh or mind their business. nobody chooses the second option.
your caption? "archaeologists finally found it."
yukimiya comments: "please stop documenting your discoveries."
you heart the comment.
iglesias bunny – “pony” by ginuwine
bunny insisted the bunny café would be "healing." throughout the entire ride there, he kept saying things like: "it's impossible to have a bad day around rabbits."
five minutes later… karma arrives. he's sitting at one of the low wooden tables with the fluffiest white bunny imaginable cradled carefully in both hands, smiling so brightly you can practically see sunshine radiating off him.
then… the bunny shits. directly into his palm.
for exactly two seconds… there's silence. then bunny absolutely loses it. he starts laughing so hard his shoulders shake. his ears turn bright red. his face follows. tears are literally forming in the corners of his eyes because he cannot stop laughing at the sheer disrespect of the situation.
"IT PICKED ME."
"IT DID."
"WHY ME?"
"YOU LOOKED TRUSTWORTHY."
"I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!!"
instead of helping, you take the picture. the final photo is adorable. bunny is doubled over laughing with the world's tiniest rabbit still sitting comfortably in his hands like absolutely nothing happened, even though the evidence remains.
your caption: "bf got blessed with shit i’m crine 😭”
bunny reposts it immediately with: "i've never been more honored."
hugo vivian – “la mentira” by luis miguel
hugo is physically one of the most intimidating footballers on the planet. he’s built like he was assembled in a laboratory – shoulders the width of a doorway and arms that could probably lift an entire refrigerator without warming up. it makes you wonder what he ate growing up to be so big.
and yet… he becomes the neediest man alive the second you jokingly threaten to leave without him.
"bye."
"..."
"i'm serious."
"..."
you take exactly three steps away. then something grabs your leg. you look down. there's hugo, crouched on the floor, both enormous arms wrapped dramatically around your right leg like it's the last life raft on earth.
he's looking up at you with the most exaggerated pout you've ever seen. his eyebrows are knitted together. his lower lip is sticking out. he looks like someone just told him sci-fi films don’t exist anymore.
the funniest part? you purposely angle the camera so only your legs are visible. the entire focus is hugo clinging to you for dear life.
"vivi. people are watching."
"good."
"stand up."
"carry me."
"you're six-foot-something."
"and?"
every reply immediately says the same thing: "THAT MAN IS WHIPPED."
yes. yes he is.
your caption is the finisher: "ignore him. he does this."
۶۟ৎ headcannon that sae is fluent in spanish and sometimes slips spanish words out in certain situations like when he's really pissed and that's hot and really attractive cause its sae itoshi speaking spanish and swearing 🤤🤭
