a/n: dude i need more dad!au's for bllk characters. ALSO YAY FOR ME FINISHING THE SUMMER HW I ONLY FOUND OUT ABOUT YESTERDAY LMAOAOOAOA
summary: sae itoshi, to most of the world, is the picture of nonchalance, composure, and seriousness. to his daughter, though? not at all. to her, he's her pretty princess.
"no. we had an agreement, and we're not going to break it-"
"but pretty please, dada?" your 4 year old daughter whined, glancing up at sae with those wide, puppy eyes of hers that she'd perfected over the years. and very unforunately for him, sae was a weak man when presented with those eyes.
the sight was honestly hilarious — japan's very own genius midfielder sitting criss crossed on the living room floor, his teal eyes crying out to you for help and his crimson hair done beautifully. 'done' meaning half brushed in some parts, completely messy in other parts, and decorated with as many clips and hair ties as your entire house had to offer.
that was the incredible result of a 4 year old girl, her father, a hairbrush, and a whole hour where she had the freedom to do whatever she wanted to said father's hair. yes, she'd somehow convinced the sae itoshi into an agreement that gave her an hour of "make daddy into a princess" time, with sae gaining... absolutely nothing in exchange.
that was how most deals went in your household. the same man who practically had the jfa at his feet, willing to do anything for him, was making rather one sided deals with a very opinionated little girl and not complaining about it at all.
you watched in amusement as your husband, clearly trying — and failing — to resist his daughter's attempts at emotional manipulation, huffed softly and propped her back onto his lap.
"...fine. but this is the final 10 minutes, okay? final, you got that?"
all the poor man got in response was a series of giggles and gentle tugs on his soft, crimson locks as she attempted to stick yet another bright pink clip onto a bundle of hair.
"look, dada! the clip is pink... and your hair is pink!"
and though he'd never admit it, sae instinctively softened at that, just as he did every time his little girl said or did anything.
"does it look nice?" he asked softly, almost nervously, so unlike the persona he put on for the rest of the world.
"very nice! my daddy's super pretty! just like a princess!"
"really? a princess?" his tips of his ears were as pink as the clips in his hair. and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't the most adorable thing you'd seen.
"mhmm! my pretty princess," your daughter declared before suddenly gasping. "what if i do your m-may.... make..."
"makeup?"
"yes! makeup!" she was practically vibrating with excitement now, still on sae's lap. "can i use mama's makeup on you, dada? pleeeaasse?"
sae glanced at you, eyes desperately begging for you to say no, but this was too much fun.
"of course, sweetheart. you know where the bag is, right?" you confirmed, smiling warmly at both your daughter and husband. "make sure you're careful though, okay? can you promise that?"
and after a series of rapid nods and frantic footsteps towards your bedroom, the 4 year old was back and armed with your makeup pouch.
let's just say that the initial promise of just 10 final minutes was long broken. and that by the time the ball of mischief was tucked in, still smiling to herself as she hugged her little stuffed animal, sae had a full face of makeup he needed to take off.
so right there in your bathroom, holding a bottle of makeup remover and a cotton pad, he finally glanced at you, trying oh so hard to look unimpressed, despite the blush — his real one, not just the makeup — giving him away.
"not. a. word," he muttered as you fought the laughs threatening to spill out of your tightly pressed lips.
"but... you're my pretty princess, baby," you cooed, quoting your daughter's exact words.
and the look of complete concern that passed onto his face was comical.
"...tch." was his only response, and honestly, that revealed that he was not, in fact, bothered at all.
