I Wad Genuinely Tweakinf Half Way (in A Good Way

I wad genuinely tweakinf half way (in a good way

Shidou Ryuusei — Taming Demons

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 7.6k TYPE: Humor, Roommates, Romantic frenemies WARNING(S): Threats of violence, canon-typical football derangement, there's a cockroach (and it's not shidou 😰)

It’s on a decent day that Sae meets you and Shidou. The weather is mild without any clouds to obscure the sky, the wind is nothing more than a pleasant breeze, birds are chirping, and most importantly there are no ugly and irrelevant middle-aged men from the JFA to bother him with their whining or otherwise offend his senses.

Too bad he’s on the way to some secret deprivation tank in Ego Jinpachi’s football-themed basement to appreciate any of this.

He’d been ballsier than usual, all things considered, which is an impressive accomplishment since his default setting is audacious. Yeah, saying he wants one striker and then demanding two is a little much even for him, but he’s not going to leave a stray behind. That’d be a waste.

It’s not like Ego didn’t try to warn him, showing him actual footage to review like this was evidence he needed to present in court while making a case.

In the first clip, Rin was calling you lukewarm (there was really no context beyond this), to which you looked at him like you didn’t even know who he was and said, “Peons should only speak to me while looking at my feet, so do that or exercise your right to remain silent,” and it made Rin so incredulous that he actually didn’t respond.

Then Shidou appeared to have found this funny because he came running into view at mach speed laughing his ass off, just to shove the soles of his cleaves in Rin’s face and say, “Lick my feet, Rin-Rin!”

Predictably this turned into some kind of scuffle (to Sae’s bemusement, Rin was losing), and then you joined in because apparently Shidou was ‘copying you,’ and when you accused him of that he became super offended, and at some point the video cut off.

Fine, Sae thought. Whatever.

The second one was ominously titled ‘The_[L/n]_Disaster.wmv,’ and it was cut out from the match this whole saga revolved around. It was normal for a while until you — for no discernible reason — fell down to your knees, pulled an… unsettling expression, screamed like a banshee and said, “I’m so bored! I’m gonna die!” before stealing the ball and shooting it into your own team’s net.

Understandably the field fell into an uproar, and some of your teammates straight up threatened to kill you.

“Who the hell do you think you are???”

You sat down like a petulant child, crossed your arms even. Everyone was too busy holding back their bloodlust so as to not pummel you into the ground and get a hundred red cards to make sense of your behavior.

… Honestly? A little weird, but nothing the Itoshi Sae can’t work with.

And then there was the last video, which was also the lengthiest. Whoever edited it had too much time on their hands. It was like a full-fledged movie with a romantic subplot (between Shidou and the ball or maybe his abstract interpretations of the act of playing football), conflict (the half hour long montage of him fighting everyone, overlayed with shitty dubstep music), and even a climax (in the literary sense).

Also strange, but not enough to put off Sae. After seeing all of this, though, he wondered if Rin managed to make at least one friend, but quickly squashed the thought. Not like he cares.

The final attachment was completely innocuous, an overview of your abilities and progress in Blue Lock, and both of you had unflattering pictures in your files. Ego’s underlying question of Do you know what you’re getting yourself into? still translated.

You’re not lumps of talent or whatever. It’s more like you’re diamonds buried in a deep pit of shit that no one even wants, but at the mental image of himself digging through feces, Sae disregards the metaphor.

If Ego’s idea for an ideal striker is a raging megalomaniac, well. He sure knows how to pick them.

___

Electrocuted like an inmate in a movie running into the fence while trying to break out of jail, muzzled like some kind of idiot dog that doesn’t know not to bite people, strapped down in a fucking straitjacket, what did Shidou ever do to deserve this? Humiliated, and not in the sexy way.

To think of all of these punishments, the most cruel one is still your company.

Just watching you is exhausting him, maybe even more so because he can’t stand up and restrain your annoying ass to make you stop screaming and rolling around and kicking and hitting and whatever (all things he believes are within his right and not yours, since you’re doing them in a way that is so not fun). He swears he’s never been tired before, but right now he has no energy, and he’s not even doing anything. You have to be some special new species of leech.

That’d be kinda hot now that he thinks about it, if you’d like… attach to him and suck out his blood. But for now he needs to stay focused.

Prior to your freak-out — he’s not even sure what you’re mad about — you had to write ‘I won’t score in my own goal next time’ all over the walls because apparently ‘if you act like a child, you’ll get treated like one,’ but you gave up not even half-way through and broke the marker after declaring you’re going to kill Ego.

“I think you need to be in a straitjacket, not me,” he says with a sly grin as if this whole situation is amusing. He does share your killing Ego sentiments, though, but you’re easy to tease. Despite his fatigue from the predicament, he is still dedicated to being an irritating piece of shit.

“I wish I was!” you say.

What?

You drag your hands down your face, stretching the skin. “I’m going to gouge my eyes out!” Then there’s some more facial expressions of mental anguish before you perk up after his words properly register in your head. “Oh, you’re so worthless and perverse, but this is actually a great idea. We should switch,” you say pleasantly.

“Worthless? C’mon, didn’t you watch while I was playing?”

You undo the muzzle so he’s the slightest bit grateful to you until you say, “Meh.”

You’re being disingenuous here and one of Shidou’s principles is real recognizes real, so even this is enough to piss him off, but then again there was also the other questionable and embarrassing thing you did. “If football’s a source of life, then you’re like a miscarriage. Or an abortion.”

“What! Why?”

Wow, you are such an infuriating and confusing hypocrite. He needs to take you out on a date some time. “‘Cause the only one who should get to shoot in your goal is… me.”

Your eye twitches, face scrunching to the left like a black hole is sucking in all of your features. He looks so happy with himself that you want him to die. “Shidou Ryuusei-”

“Not the full government name!” he cries out with fake dismay.

“-if you say something like this to me again, I’m gonna dismember you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There is a shit-eating grin of a man who knows exactly what you’re talking about on his face. A slight blush, even, but it points towards elation, not embarrassment. “And there’s nothing in here you can do that with.”

“The room has walls.”

“Don’t saaaay things like that,” he sings. “Not when I’m all tied up like a lunatic.”

What does he mean by this?

You’re not even making progress with unhooking the straitjacket since there isn’t much wiggle room between Shidou’s back and the weird stand thing, but Ego shocks you through the bodysuit to dissuade you from any further attempts. This time, when you slip on the floor, it’s not your fault. After a few pitiful twitches, you say, “That’s it. I’m gonna die.”

???

“I was beautiful.” You pose while still on the floor. “Please make up some cool last words for me. For my tombstone.”

“You went from killing Four Eyes to killing me to then killing yourself. Amazing range,” says Shidou with a whistle, once again acting like the situation is funny.

He watches you try to break your neck by forcing it in unnatural positions using your hands for a bit until the effort proves to be anatomically impossible. Long hours lie ahead of him.

___

Sae has been eavesdropping in front of the door for at least twenty minutes to assess the situation before walking in. There’d been blood-curdling screams, heavy sounds of thrashing (apparently you were trying to run up to the ceiling and kept falling down and throwing tantrums, which Shidou, again, found hilarious, but all it gave Sae was a migraine from having to listen to the commotion), and five arguments that never concluded because you two couldn’t stay on topic. Many expletives and creative death threats flew through the air.

It occurs to him for the first time that trying to control the two most selfish strikers on the roster is ambitious. You both operate on an incomprehensible level of egotism, with you acting like your teammates are unimpressive circus acts and Shidou’s tendency to play as if he’s a sole soldier on a mission to bludgeon everyone else on the field. Small fry who don’t take gambles like this here and there, though, aren’t worth anything.

“I love watchin’ people squirm and all, but not like this. Can you do something more exciting?”

“What’s gonna be exciting is the sight of your nail beds while I rip them off one by one.”

The sound of an exaggerated yawn. “Your fake threats aren’t stirring me at all. Look at me, I’m so bored. So bored and pathetic and restrained and please, I need a more refreshing view.”

There’s one last, grander thud. “I’m done,” you declare.

… Nothing, for a bit.

“You look so cute and harmless like this. Makes me wanna squeeze your neck till your eyes pop out.”

You don’t dignify that comment with a response.

___

This latest development is detrimental to your relationship with Itoshi Sae. Not that you have any kind of relationship with him besides striking up the U-20 deal, but you’ve been dating him in your head ever since you saw him play on TV a few years ago. You’re contemplating mentally breaking up with him for good. That’s how serious of an offense you’re dealing with.

It’s like you don’t even know me, Sae, you cry, though you don’t commit to speaking it out loud. He’s not even here to hear your bitchfest, anyway, so you settle for throwing your minimalistic bag of belongings on one of the beds with as much hate as possible.

Shidou waves at you from the other side of the room like you didn’t arrive at this complex in the same car, and like you didn’t spend eight hours in the punishment room together. Your scowl is really, really ugly, wrinkling your skin. Seriously, sharing an apartment is one thing, but the same room? The same toilet? There is no one you tolerate enough in the world for this bullshit.

After sorting through your belongings and doing a good job at ignoring whatever Shidou is saying, you step out and head towards the kitchen and rummage through the fridge and the pantry. It’s a little strange that you’re no longer in Blue Lock for the time being. You can go eat at a restaurant if you want to, but you find that Sae’s team has been gracious enough to leave some supplies to last a couple of days.

Shidou trails after you like an unwanted shadow. You examine everything one last time before grabbing a protein bar and taking a seat at the table, leaving you with the view of Shidou grabbing whatever he can before he dumps it all on the counter and opens the blender. You frown in confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking,” he says in a tone which suggests he finds you stupid for not understanding that at first glance.

“You can’t put raw meat in the fucking blender.”

“Yeah, I can.” He rips two packages with different spices and dumps them in. “Look, there’s even seasoning.” And then he shoves in a cucumber and an unpeeled banana.

You lunge towards him, cradling the blender, your snack forgotten. “You’re gonna get food poisoning, moron.”

“Then how come I’ve never had it before???” Shidou tries to take a hold of it again, wrenching it out of your hands before a game of tug-of-war ensues.

There is no way he’s serious. This must be some elaborate way for him to troll you. Your struggle for the blender, however, is more intense than anyone would’ve anticipated because your palms turn sweaty, with the blender slipping out once you attempt a harder yank. Shidou almost manages to save it from its imminent fate with a swipe, but his reaction is not fast enough and it shatters on the floor.

“Look at what you did.” You gesture.

“You got in the way of my cooking! It’s your fault.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Were you raised in a cave? A mountain? I will destroy you if I see you ‘cooking’ in my presence again.”

He rolls his eyes and mimes a blabbering mouth with his hand as if to say yap, yap, yap. You resist the urge to reach out and break at least one of his fingers.

With a huff, you stomp your way to the bathroom in search of a broom and dustpan to get rid of the glass shards, the rest of Shidou’s arguments about why a steak shake is ‘gourmet’ and ‘exotic’ falling on deaf ears. You’re also trying to think of a good place to throw away the pieces because you’re so not telling Itoshi Sae you broke his rent-a-blender.

You return to the sight of Shidou finishing up your abandoned protein bar while trying to pick up glass shards between his toes.

“Stop that. What if you hurt yourself?! Seriously, what’s your deal?” You narrow your eyes at him while he blows a raspberry at you and the realization of his thievery hits you. “Hey, spit that out.”

Shidou smiles and throws the shard — yeah, with his toes — at your shins, but you ignore the action, your pre-existing rage rendering you unresponsive. “So demanding.” He waves your protein bar, or at least what’s left of it, in the air. “Come and take it if you want it so bad.”

“I’m not playing tag like a child when the floor’s covered in glass,” you say, despite already taking a step forward, ready to assume a stance and chase him.

You do, of course, end up playing tag like a child when the floor’s covered in glass. Your protein bar falls in the toilet. When Shidou reaches to flush it, you push him out of the way, and he pushes back, and so begins a brawl, any other concerns fading in the background.

Two hours later, you shriek out a piercing scream when you take a piss and flush without thinking.

___

You wake up to weird yelling. This is atypical since you’re usually the one who causes commotion. You laze around in bed, taking it as noise from your dream, until your consciousness clears and during your first moment being awake, you swear to make whoever’s responsible for this regret it. Through bleary eyes, you observe the room, and find the bed opposite of yours empty.

You slog your way out to brush your teeth, but the racket grows louder, and you identify the source as the balcony. Without thinking, you head there to scold Shidou, abandoning your previous task.

“Cytolysis!” What the hell is he even on about? “Ooh, and arteries!” Seriously.

“Douchebag, you woke me up. Stop screaming so early or I’ll- Why are you naked?!”

“You were really talking for that long before you noticed…?”

“Cover up,” you say, disregarding his indirect call out of how much you love your own voice, to the point you stop noticing your surroundings once you get going in a spiel. “What if you get arrested for public indecency? It could ruin your life.”

“I can’t sunbathe if I’m wearing clothes,” Shidou says.

“You literally can.”

“Yeah, if I want an uneven tan.” He rolls his eyes as if you’re being unreasonable for expecting him not to randomly be in the nude. You really don’t know how maintaining a tan is more urgent than avoiding the charge you brought up, but you don’t bother questioning him any further. “Listen, you’re not ruining this for me. I haven’t been able to do my morning routine for weeks!”

“What, so you couldn’t do it in front of the others, but you can do it in front of me? I’m way too dignified for… the sight of you. Right now and in general.”

“Snobby-chan, you can’t be for real. There wasn't any sun there.”

“You really are shameless, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, looking at his nails in disinterest. “Shame is just a shackle that gets in the way of my freedom.”

Your eye twitches, and your scowling is causing some tightness in your face, primarily in your forehead. Don’t try to make it philosophical now!

“Ugh,” you say, figuring you’re way too speechless to offer anything more constructive. “Step foot in front of me like this when you’re done and I’m going to boil you in a cauldron, you hear?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Prude-chan. Just don’t interrupt me again.”

“Call me by a nickname again and I’ll peel you with the peeler from the kitchen.”

Instead of replying, he sends you a kiss and a wink.

After some incredulous and judgmental staring, you slam the door shut, not putting much thought into the force of it. It rattles and the frame separates from the jamb, leaving it crooked and awkward. You fall to your knees on the floor and start crying — like, really bawling and torturing your throat with your wails of turmoil — and trying to shred your scalp with your nails. Shidou spares a moment from the bullshit he calls his ‘morning routine’ to laugh.

___

You emerge from your nap looking like you’ve been through the seventh circle of hell in Dante’s Inferno. It was to compensate for your early wake up. Now you stand in front of the mirror, finally brushing your teeth.

Shidou waltzes in not much later, at least wearing a shirt and shorts. He shoves you aside with the unceremonious command, “Move,” before leaning over the sink and pulling out eyeliner, trying to get in a good position.

You forget to yell at him, since you become fascinated by him when you see him put it close to his face with a look of concentration. Is he going to stab his eye out? This is so exciting.

… Shidou starts applying it over his lower lashline. You frown at the anticlimactic follow up. It’s pretty bizarre to be living with him like this, though.

Making your way around, you spit out the foam then rinse before moving on with the rest of your business. He slathers his hands in too much hair gel before beginning to work on shaping it into the ridiculous style he usually wears it in. This seems like an excruciatingly long and wasteful process.

You ask, “So you do this every day?”

“I thought ‘cause of earlier that you don’t know what a morning routine is, but are you really just gonna confirm it like that? You’re too easy.”

You almost make the mature decision to leave and do something else (maybe read a wikiHow article about how to fix doors), but Shidou proves to be too tempting of a target when he stands there, scrutinizing you with an almost feline expression as you pass by him. Twisting one of the loose strands on his head around your finger, you pull him down to eye-level, and he lets you, looking amused. “I’m gonna grab you by your stupid antennae and throw you out of the window.”

Instead of answering, Shidou backs away and flicks the one you weren’t holding. You tilt your head in confusion, not understanding what he’s doing. “My receptors are sensing bullshit.”

You scratch your chin in fake contemplation. “You know, you act kinda weird and you have this wild look going on… but deep down you’re just a lame biology nerd.”

“Me, weird?! I’m not taking that from you,” he says in mock offense.

“What?” you ask, in astonishment at his nerve to bring you up. “There’s nothing weird about me.”

Your genuine confusion is making Shidou assume you live in a parallel universe.

___

It would’ve been your third day of surviving on protein bars — Shidou keeps referring to this as ‘your fault’ because you ‘broke the blender’ (objectively it was a collaborative effort, from your perspective he is to blame) as if the blender is a cooking utensil — so you’re heading to some cheap place to eat.

“I can’t believe they’re benching us,” you say through grit teeth. The complaint serves as a distraction from your grumbling stomach.

“But the fight was pretty fun,” Shidou adds optimistically, looking extra cheerful.

Just the thought of it is making you want to shrivel up and die, but then again, there are many things which make you feel this way. “That was so embarrassing. I hope Sae didn’t see… If he did, I’ll commit seppuku during practice tomorrow.” The last statement is a promise you make with solemn seriousness.

He most definitely saw since you had a loud meltdown before you joined Shidou in attacking everyone, but instead of bringing this to your attention, he says, “Is that guy a big deal or something? You like him a lot.”

His accusation isn’t presumptuous in the slightest. The one time he got an accidental glance of your lock screen, the picture was a close-up of Itoshi Sae’s unimpressed face with a conspicuous placement of the gettyimages trademark covering a fourth of his forehead.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow. Shidou expects you to freak out again and scream in denial, but all you ask is, “Don’t you know who he is?”

He shrugs.

“He’s a genius! And really handsome, too. I love watching him play,” you swoon, caressing your cheeks. “He’s like a prince. A football prince… The best kind of prince.”

“I’ll see what he’s about during the game,” says Shidou with a grin as if he’s the professional player renowned for his skills all over the world, and Sae is some random guy. But you don’t think he’s trying to be arrogant. There’s this inane kind of excitement about him, like he hopes what you said is true because he wants to experience it.

“Hey, Shidou. What was your life like before Blue Lock?”

You can’t help being curious. Are his parents negligent or something? No sane adults would let their kid develop the habit of screaming random shit while naked every morning. You hate to admit it, but you’re concerned about him.

“No use thinkin’ about boring stuff like that.”

Makes sense he’d be a live in the moment type of person. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess dwelling on the past is pretty peasant-like.”

You smile at each other in agreement, though you’re on the same page for reasons so different, someone might wonder how you’re even managing a civil conversation.

___

“What’re you doing?” Shidou asks, resting his foot on the corner of the coffee table with his phone in hand, scrolling.

On the other end of the couch, you’re slouching and balancing a few cards from the deck you stumbled on while looking for tools to fix the door with. You’ve learned an important lesson: chisels and pry bars don’t just lie around rented apartments, waiting for someone to use them.

“I’m turning over a new leaf, so I’ve decided to rediscover patience and peace,” you say with a close-eyed smile.

The load of bullshit you uttered fuels some curiosity in Shidou, so he peeks at you over his phone case. This fake ass smile doesn’t suit you at all. You look like you don’t have a soul.

He slides closer to you inch by inch, moving his leg with himself, until he is close enough for you to see what he’s doing in your peripheral vision. Not about to let him ruin your hard work, you swat away his foot with the back of your hand, but the quick movement upsets the three pyramids and the card on top of them, sending them all toppling down.

Shidou cheers when you flip the table.

___

You’re lazing around on your bed when Shidou struts up to you with a triumphant aura. “Y’know that little problem we had? I solved it,” he announces.

You perk up, eyes shining. “You’re gonna stop screaming every morning?” You don’t even care about him being naked anymore. His ritual interrupts your sleep so often that it’s affecting your mood tracker, always starting the day off with an angry swearing red emoji.

“No, I meant the sink.”

True. You avoid making eye contact with it since it’s overflowing. In a technical sense, you know how to wash them, so it’s not incompetence that’s driving you to allow this to go on. But it’d be an act of subservience since Shidou also throws his dirty dishes in there, and you’re not going to do his chores. You will make him understand who’s the bigwig here, even if you have to eat without a plate by the end of this lesson you’re teaching him.

He continues, “You’re pretending you don’t like waking up to my angelic voice now?” Then clears his throat, not leaving you any time to reassure him you’re not faking your distaste for his idiocy.

You interrupt him and cut off the fifth tone deaf ‘la.’ “So, you finally washed them?”

“What?” Shidou asks, raising his eyebrows like your assumption is nonsensical. “I threw them off the balcony. Now there aren’t any more of ‘em to get dirty.”

He looks so proud of himself — while also clearly realizing you’re on the brink of a breakdown, if his manic grin is anything to go by — and you want to puke. Theatrically, you roll off and fall, hoping to hit your head and get a life-threatening concussion, but for better or for worse, nothing of the sort happens.

You can imagine him aiming at people with forks from above.

When you remain still for a while, Shidou nudges you like one might do to fresh roadkill with a long stick from a safe distance. “You there? Are you hibernating or something? Blink twice if you died.”

___

Your recovery lasts several hours, during which you do nothing but lie on the floor.

Once out of your stupor, you head to the kitchen to mourn your loss (not of the dishes, but for your inability to get Shidou to do them), perhaps to gaze out of the window with a wistful sadness in your eyes. It takes you a few morose steps to realize they’re there, intact. Clean. You blink.

You can be so stupid sometimes.

___

A cockroach crawls out from behind the mirror. You back away, startled by the sudden movement, not realizing what it is you’re seeing at first glance. The real horror starts when you recognize the creature in front of you and shriek in alarm. When it doesn’t produce the desired result, you cave in and yell, “Shidou!”

“D’you want toilet paper?” he asks, his tone way too casual in comparison to yours. You could be dying in here, kidnapped and tortured by the Cockroach King, and you’re convinced Shidou would not give a shit.

“No! Just come in.”

He does. With a roll under his armpit. And then he does nothing to help.

You point at the wall, your index finger accusatory. It hasn’t moved to hide yet, so at least you don’t have to be paranoid about its whereabouts.

“You just strike me as the type of person who’d tell someone to wipe your ass,” he says irrelevantly.

“Kill it!!!” You’re glossing over his apparent willingness to do just that. But your anger dissolves into panic when your imagination comes up with all sorts of alternatives that have you clutching your scalp. It could give birth. Maybe you’d have to be the godparents, babysitting every Saturday.

“Pretentious-chan is not so big and bad anymore.” Shidou pouts, as if disappointed, then grabs it with his bare hand and examines it, making a big deal out of doing so, squinting his eye while widening the other. The insect is squirming in his hold.

“Bro, get rid of it! What if it escapes?!”

He takes a step forward, beaming at you, which you read as a warning sign preceding sinister intentions. Though you want to back away, you’re already standing by the sink, the front digging deeper into your skin. You think to reach out and push him away, but it puts you at risk of coming in contact with it if he lets it loose on accident… or on purpose.

Very slowly, he brings it closer and closer to your face. Your chin is retracting into your neck while you lean back to the best of your ability, and it’s straining your muscles, making you clench your teeth out of both fear and disgust.

“The others call me a cockroach,” Shidou says. “Are we twinning?”

“Stop.”

“C’mon, do we look alike?” He has the audacity to smile, looking all innocent.

One of the antennas almost brushes against your nose. Your brows pinch together, and you’re reaching levels of facial tension you haven’t experienced before, which is impressive considering how many mood swings you flip through on a daily basis.

“Dude, get it away from me,” you beg, borderline crying.

It seems to click in Shidou’s head that this is more serious than your usual tantrums, and he hates to think he’s made you upset on a substantial level, scrambling to crush the roach and flush it away.

You relax from your ‘afraid turtle’ position, straightening your posture to glare at him. Shidou looks at you like a kicked puppy. Even though he knows you don’t have mercy for excuses — valid or invalid — he takes a crack at the worst one. “It was a joke.”

If looks could kill.

“I’m sorry.”

His mumbling is quite pathetic and therefore almost unable to reach your ears (this phrase isn’t really a part of his vocabulary, so it comes out like a foreign tongue twister), but after you make sense of what he said, your lips settle into a phony smile.

“I think it’s unfair the others call you an insect,” you say. “I mean, they’re animals, but you make the conscious decision to be a piece of shit.”

“I’m sooooorry,” he says, this time with more confidence, and tries to catch you in a hug. As if.

“Wash your hands, freak.”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot about touching it already. Oops!”

You massage the bridge of your nose. He’s hopeless.

___

This noon, Shidou is preparing you a salad. You guess it’s a bit lacking, but you only have the tomatoes and the cucumbers and a block of cheese left. You’ve mostly been ignoring him since yesterday and he took matters into his own hands when he realized you were willing to starve over this. The protein bars ran out too, which is a shame since you love throwing them in as a side dish to your cooking.

Shidou liked the spaghetti. There wasn’t any sauce, so he suggested you grate protein bars over it, and you almost vomited after you tasted it. But at least one of you was happy.

You glance at him, mulling over whether you should continue being mad or not. Your wrath doesn’t seem effective on him, so you might need to switch strategies. Though you abandon the train of thought once you see how he’s gripping the knife like a toddler, cutting the vegetables and humming some annoying tune, so you rise from your seat and approach him. “You’re gonna hack your fingers off.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll show you.” You make a ‘gimme that’ gesture and hope it translates well enough.

Instead of passing it over, a gleeful expression takes over his face, and the sight of it disturbs you, since this is how you know he’s about to do something stupid. Your hunch proves correct when Shidou wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you in the air, looking up at you like you hung the moon or some shit, full of wonder. Usually, you’d appreciate people showing you due respect, but you have other concerns right now.

“The knife’s still in your hands, you fucking idiot,” you screech, squeezing his shoulder in alarm. What if he stabs you in the back, on some Julius Caesar shit?

“You’re so mean, but you still worry about me the most out of everyone,” he says, all but shoving his head against your neck, his nose poking your collarbone.

“RELEASE ME.”

You fall on your ass when he does. Shidou’s smile does not slip at the sound of you grunting in pain.

“You’re dangerous,” you say.

“For your heart, I’m assuming.”

“Yeah. I have high blood pressure, so.”

“Oh,” he says.

You pat yourself to brush off imaginary dust and make a big stink out of it, with downturned lips and aggressive motions. Then you ask, “Were you for real?”

“I’m pretty straight-forward,” he tells you as if it suffices.

Again, you hate to admit it, but you feel bad for him, if he perceives you as the one who cares about him the most. After all, you’re not all that kind to him.

___

“Are you awake?” Shidou asks the night before the match.

“No,” you say, continuing to scroll through your phone.

“Ok, listen. Do we share equal power in the relationship?”

“What?”

“Do we: A. work as a team or D. you get angry when I try to make decisions without you???”

“First of all,” you frown, “what the hell are you talking about? Second of all, why are you going from option A straight to option D?! It’s upsetting my balance.”

“I’m trying to see if you’re toxic, so I’m taking this relationship quiz,” he says before pressing something.

There might be some sensitive sort of nerve in your temple which is jumping out right now. “I’m not your lover.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shidou agrees while continuing to do whatever he is doing, not even bothering to conceal it. “I just wanna see.” Then, after more tapping, he lets out a performative gasp. “The quiz is saying you’re a red flag!”

“Shut up.” You throw your pillow at him, though they don’t spend much time together since he flings it back almost immediately. “You are, too.”

“Is it meant to be…?”

“Good night.”

“I thought you were already sleeping,” he lies with a facetious smile on his face. “Red flag, red flag!”

___

Shidou almost breaks out into a sprint, but you pull him back with a handful of his jersey, almost tripping him. “Let’s make a more nonchalant entrance,” you say, even if you don’t need to go out together.

“Huh, why? I wanna go out and play already,” he says, seemingly annoyed, though he does slow down to match your pace, shoving his hands in the sides of his pants from the lack of pockets.

You ignore the action and reply, “Well, I belong on the field and it’s natural I’ll be showing up, so there’s no reason to be too excited about it.”

“What a load of bullshit,” Shidou says, amused. “Are you any good when you’re shooting in the opponent’s net?”

“Guess you need to give me a good show. Otherwise, I start misbehaving when I’m bored.”

“You don’t need to worry about that at all!” Shidou swings an arm around your shoulder with a grin which seems a bit too elated. “Just keep your eyes on me and I’ll get you all excited.”

You’re about to retort with something about how you really doubt it, but grow preoccupied with blowing a kiss at the audience who doesn’t even know who you are. In this moment, Shidou realizes you’re some momentous kind of knobhead. It’s rare he’s the voice of reason, but you’ve given him a few opportunities to act as such the last few weeks.

___

Though Shidou already scored once, you’ve been stuck on defense the whole time, or getting marked by that pesky guy Isagi. You grit your teeth. He’s trying to piss you the fuck off and you know it. He wants you to lose your marbles so you become a liability.

If you have to be honest, you always think of everyone else on the field as an obstacle, even your teammates. You cannot name a point in time when this hasn’t been the case. In high school, you had the best scoring ability on your team, but messed up a lot and couldn’t synergize with the rest of them, and you’d get benched more often than not. And it always drove you crazy how your replacement couldn’t play to save his life, but somehow he was preferable.

Hell, you don’t even like playing most times. Your skin is always itching, giving you this familiar feeling that you’re about to burst into a pile of angry, gory entrails. Everyone else always calls these episodes tantrums or… or other synonymous words, you’re not good with words, but to you, it really feels like Armageddon when you get upset.

You mostly had fun practicing by yourself, kicking the ball on and on, running down the river for hours. It was liberating in a way, with no incompetent midfielder to tell you where you can and can’t shoot from, or missing the spot you’re trying to go for because your plans don’t match, or everyone telling you that you don’t fit in, or any people at all. It’s one big pain in the ass, playing football, but you’re so obsessed with it.

Shidou’s second goal snaps you out of this mulling you were doing. You blink in begrudging amazement. It’s like he took flight, or ascended, or something else dramatic of that nature.

The desire to score and steal the attention from him overwhelms you.

You don’t have to be the one who’s dancing out of sync anymore, if everyone’s going in your tempo. If Itoshi Sae doesn’t mind passing to these bad, bad spots you love so much, you can move freely just like Shidou.

When the ball goes back in play, you stay back and observe for a moment, before diagonally sprinting across the field.

“Hi,” you greet Sendou, before swiping it away from him and kicking it overhead all the way back to your side’s penalty area.

He stares at you in a mix of incredulity and irritation. “We’re on the same team!”

“Aces who can’t score don’t get to question me, okay?”

“You-”

But you’re already running again, continuing the zigzag pattern.

Aiku — who miraculously secures the ball and passes to Sae after your movements put everyone else on the field in disarray — hollers in half amusement, “Where the hell do you think you’re shooting?”

All this stupid fucking noise. ‘Winning’ and ‘losing,’ ‘heroes’ and ‘villains,’ ‘sensible’ and ‘irrational,’ everyone else always lets these plebeian concepts constrain them. Is it such a crime you don’t want to let anyone chain you down?

Sae passes the ball with you back and forth while you cut across the pitch, closing in, confusing and slipping past the defenders with your flitting and nonsensical dribbling. Karasu tries to intercept you, so you kick the ball to Shidou on the opposite wing with Reo breathing down his neck.

He has no choice, but to kick it a few paces ahead of you, where you arrive after shaking off Karasu by jumping around him during the shoulder-to-shoulder tackle.

“Ya move like a dumbass.”

“It’s really not fair when I have to give it back to you,” Shidou joins in on the yelling. By the expression he’s making, you can’t tell if he’s angry or excited. “Tease!”

You’re approaching the goal line, with Blue Lock’s side focusing on blocking you and limiting Sae’s courses. Oh, you can tell he’s gonna give you a really nasty one, so you can’t help but pass it back to him, hoping he can assist you in brute forcing your way through the rabble. Everyone is more or less floundering all the way to the left, drawn to your madness.

It’s kind of sadistic when he has you scrambling for the ball right in the middle of all this mess — unidentified limbs and bodies reaching for it at the same time. You jump and mime a kicking motion before trapping it, lobbing it over your head, then twisting your body in mid-air, viciously striking it into the net with your nondominant foot, right through the clear path where no one is guarding.

“A crazy feint in mid-air?! Against all logic, U-20’s [L/n] [Y/n] secures the goal!”

You land on your back with your legs shooting up in the air. You see Isagi hovering near Shidou, who was wide open. He must’ve been predicting you to give it up. He was reacting to you?

The audience is screaming my name… But right now, I’m just kind of happy to be playing with everyone.

Huh. It’s kind of like you’re practicing by the river again.

___

Sae knows you don’t need much provocation to blow a fuse.

What he doesn’t expect is for you to also be very easy to please.

He also feels like a really big, smelly, juicy slab of meat with two hyenas breathing down his neck, what with Shidou jumping on his back and babbling about something and you taking his hands in yours before kneeling and proclaiming, “Please marry me.”

What the hell?

He wretches his fingers out of your hold, leaving you in the same position since you’re apparently too delusional to stop, huge smile on your face and all despite the rejection. Then he throws Shidou to the ground.

The phone number would cost three points. Sae isn’t sure how much matrimony is worth.

Shidou averts his interest to you, leaving Sae as the witness to whatever embarrassment is about to occur. He grabs you and forces you to stand up.

“Your explosion was the freakiest I’ve seen yet. Ka-boom!”

Is this supposed to be a compliment?

“Are you kidding me, your goal before that got me all fired up.”

Wow, and you, by all accounts a big-headed prick, are returning the kind(?) words.

“Pretty fun, isn’t it?” asks Shidou. “I’m having a blast.”

“I’m so happy and free of restraints, it’s like I’m on acid. No, something stronger. Ecstasy! DMT! PCP! Meth! Feeling this good should be against the rules! They should suspend me for doping!”

“You get me,” Shidou says in astonishment, parting his mouth in surprise. “You totally get me! It’s not something that makes sense! It’s a sensation! A state of existence! Let’s stay in symbiosis forever!”

What the fuck is going on.

You intertwine your fingers with his and proceed to dance by spinning around each other in a circle like some freaks. Sae steps out of earshot inch by inch, fleeing the scene.

___

You’re gathering your things from the apartment since you and Shidou need to leave tonight. You spent two hours trying to DIY fix the balcony door again, but the endeavor was unproductive. For him, the most time-consuming task was retrieving all his products from the bathroom.

“You know, you’re so much fun when you’re in a good mood,” Shidou says, probably still thinking about the match, even though your team didn’t end up winning.

“Hey, Shidou. Do you remember that weird thing you said?”

“What thing?”

God, of course he doesn’t register the shit he spews as abnormal. You roll your eyes. “‘Let’s stay in symbiosis forever.’ Did you mean it?”

“I already told your demented ass I’m pretty straight-forward. I don’t say things just to say them! Get it through your head. Lip service is lame.” You frown and let out a noncommittal hum in response, which makes Shidou nudge you then poke you in the face until you respond. “What’s the matter? You’re not hitting me or screaming, so must be something bad.”

“I’m… I’m alone a lot, and I mean alone, not lonely, don’t get it twisted, so this is a big promise. We’ll have to make a blood pact over it if you’re serious.”

“Hm? Okay.”

“What, really? Just like that?”

“Make it the promise of a lifetime,” he sings, before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer so you’re standing cheek-to-cheek. “You drive my love cells wild.”

The stare you scrutinize him with is one of abject horror.

“Come on, say something.” He starts poking you — this time in the ribs — when you don’t respond for a long time, but his grin settles into a thin line as if he’s possibly afraid he might’ve put you off.

You elbow him in the stomach, which distracts him from the jabbing he was doing, and then your demeanor switches entirely because you smile, point up your index finger and declare, “You know what? I like how enthusiastic you are about me. Let’s get married.”

Shidou bursts out laughing and this is apparently amusing enough for him to forget the way you shoved him back. “You’re kinda intense.”

“Me? Intense? And you aren’t?”

“Nah, I’m pretty chill.”

How you’re both this self-unaware, no one will ever know.

___

y/n to sae: Me and my boyfriend saw u from across the bar and we really like your vibe

this got me giggling and shit

CHRONICLES OF HOUSECATS [ part 1 , part 2 ]

sypnosis: you finally manage an uninterrupted date with isagi

no prns used (reader). established relationship with (loser bf) isagi. 2.2k wc. cw: nothing(?). made them a lot tamer for this (less chaos). kaiser & ness still cats ofc.

Do you remember the feeling of awkward cringe, when you watch third-rate actors on screen put on an act so atrociously bad? The kind of feeling that forces your skin to crawl- a chill sent down your spine while simultaneously warm blood rushes to your face from second hand embarrassment?

“MEOWWWW MRREOWWWWWWWWW”

Yeah, you’re feeling a whole hell of that right now. God, he’s so embarrassing…

You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing in much needed fresh air to cool down the horrendous headache your darling housecats are causing you right now.

“Enough, Mihya. I told you to save your little theatrics for the talent shows.” You lift up the blue cat carrier to chastise him.

Michael bats his eyes, staring up at you with the eyes of a pitiful, heartbroken widow.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that,” You deadpan at his attempt to win you over. “C’mon, it’s just a spa. You love getting pampered, don’t you? Well, they’re gonna give you lotsss of love and attention there.”

He furthers his meowing and whining at you, pretending he didn’t hear allat. Determined to not drop his act anytime soon.

Isagi walks next to you, this sweet boy has been trying to hold your hands when you were busy arguing with your rebellious cat.

He finally manages to grab onto your hand, a smile blossoming onto his face as he internally celebrates his success.

“Um, will it really be okay for us to just leave them at the spa?” He eyes the magenta cat carrier in his other hand. “I mean, we can do this another time.. It’s not that much of a hassle, really.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, and start swinging your held hands. “It’s fine. Really!” You turn to him with a smile, “I bring them to the spa every two to three months anyway. Mihya usually loves it! He’s just being whiny for attention right now.”

Ignoring the blond cat’s yowls of protests, you continue, “Besides, I’m looking forward to this date with you-” You glance down at the blue carrier, “-without them interrupting this time.”

On your previous romantic dates with Isagi, the two cats had stalked and caught up with you both. Causing a scene every single time, thanks to Michael’s dramatics and Alexis’ surprising animosity towards your sweet boyfriend.

You swear Alexis is usually a good, well-mannered kitty. He never had any problems with strangers. Maybe he just doesn’t like Yoichi’s smell? You oughta talk to him about showing up right after practice in his stinky sweat drenched jersey.

You hum, stepping into the doors of ‘Magic Whiskers Pet Spa & Hotel’. The bell chimes, alerting the workers and other pets in the building of your arrival.

It doesn’t take long until the old manager walks up to greet you. “Hello there, dearie! Michael and Alexis back for their appointment?”

“Hi, gramps. And yeah, the usual, thank you.” Placing the cat carriers onto the counter, you open the locks for them.

Michael huffs, strutting out and stretching his legs, then immediately basks in the old man’s praises at his big boy stretch.

Little bastard giving you the silent treatment.

Alexis walks up to you the moment he’s let out of the cage. Purring as he rubs his head at your waist. Finally, he thinks. Normally he’s comfortable with his carrier but god when Isagi is the one handling him does it make the experience a hundred times less enjoyable.

Oh well, at least he’s in his second favourite place now. Being in the magic themed store slash spa makes him the happiest feline alive.

Great memories were created here in this magical place, after all.

“Good boy, ‘Lexis. You watch over Michael for me, yeah? He’s being a petty prick.” You whisper to the cat. “I’ll stock up on your favourite kibbles when I come back later.”

You scratch at the spot behind his little flicky ears, sinking in his purrs as you stare at Michael’s overgrown blond fur.

“Hmm. You know what, old man? I think you can try something new with them this time.”

The cats stare up at you curiously and the manager only gives you a warm smile.

“I thought you’d never ask. Leave them to me!”

—

“Ahh, some peace and quiet..” You sigh in bliss as you hook your arm with Isagi. You’re both now walking leisurely on the sidewalk. “Soo, what’s the plan, Yoichi?”

Isagi blushes when you turn to look at him, “Ah, right.” He fumbles with his jacket, “Well, I didn’t plan an itinerary or anything. But..”

He lists off the places you both can visit together, rambling off. Occasionally stuttering and tripping over his own feet.

You admire his side profile as he continues his meandering. He’s such a cutie, still so awkward and shy this far into the relationship.

You wonder if you’d get to more sides of him as you both continue to spend more time together.

“-so i think it’s really worth a visit too. You wanna go?”

His dorky smile paired with a soft blush on the apple of his cheeks. How could anyone say no to that?

You’d go anywhere this man brings you to.

“Sure. Anything for you, pretty boy.”

—

The faint smell of clay envelopes the both of you as you step foot into the pottery studio.

“Hello, we booked a session under the name Isagi Yoichi.” You glance around the cozy studio, admiring the array of works displayed. The muted colours of each piece of art blend well in the modernly designed room, adding a spark of personality to the mundane aesthetic.

“Yes, of course. Over here, please.” The receptionist brings you two to your designated workshop.

You place a thumb to your chin as you stare at the unpainted pottery in front of you. You never really had any plans to paint on some clay. Now that you think about it, you jumped at any idea Isagi had suggested- and pottery painting just happened to sound the most romantic to your dear Yoichi right now.

Oh, well. Now that you’re here with him, might as well show-off whatever amount of talent you have for painting.

Yoichi’s hand finds yours, before he quickly releases it to wipe off the sweat that has collected onto his palm.

“Sorry! I- It’s too hot in here, aha..”

Help this poor guy. So many dates into the relationship and he can hardly tell if you’re as excited as he is. Is your heart beating as quick as his right now? Do you feel the immense urge to hold him the same way he wants to hold you?

You choose to reach out for him, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Are you nervous about pottery painting? I’m sure you’ll do great, ‘Ichi.”

Ah, that’s not.. Yoichi sweatdrops. You have trouble reading him too, it seems. At least now he feels better about being unable to read you.

A talent to be reckoned with, really. How you both have been with each other for years and still stuck in the awkward guessing stage whenever you go out together.

But weakass communication skills aside...

Uh oh. What if you think of him as a loser, one that is jittery at the notion of.. painting?

No way! He’ll save this, he thinks. Right, he was good at arts and crafts back when he was in school. He can woo you with his crazy painting skills!

With newfound confidence, Isagi picks up an unpainted mug. A blank canvas- for him to turn into one of his creative works, and sweep you off your feet. He picks up a brush, brainstorming ideas of what he can paint onto the mug.

You browse the options, settling on matching mugs with Yoichi’s. Sitting by his side, you dip your brush into the paint of your choice, and start to draw strokes of what you have in mind onto the delicate surface of the mug.

“Has your season come to an end? You’ve been more free lately,” You ask, just to start a conversation. “As in, you’ve been coming over a lot more.”

Isagi’s mouth forms an ‘o’, “Right. Yeah, it's my off-season right now.” He pauses to think, “I’ll be free until next month, I guess.”

You hum at his answer, “You still practice a lot, even on your holidays.”

“Ah, well. That’s just..” He blushes, feeling a bit shy that you’ve noticed his passionate attitude towards football.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” You laugh at his embarrassment, “You love football. That much I know of.”

Isagi feels his heart flutter at that. God, you remind him of how much he loves you every time without fail. Doing so much to him while you haven’t even started on pampering him with kisses and sweet words.

He swears you’re perfect- just for him. You fit perfectly, providing all kinds of comfort and support that he never knew he needed. All on your own accord.

You love, care and recognize his dreams. What more could a man ask for?

The world's best lover for the world's best striker. (an overkill but he's delulu like that)

He swallows hard, wanting to let all the bottled up giddy feelings burst out and embrace you. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Maybe he’s not the best with words. The peak of his creativity with verbal finesse is really just spitting flame on the field- something that he secretly hopes you’ll never get to witness.

Most he can do now is to paint what he loves the most- you, and his football of course, onto the mug.

With each delicate stroke of his brush, he carefully fills in the colours with love. Painting a simplified version of your general features, he then adds the football next to you. Ending the piece by tracing a giant frame of heart around both you and the ball.

He checks his work, scanning for any small mistakes then carefully writes ‘World’s #1 Striker’ onto the free space next to his painting.

He smirks proudly at that.

You send him a side-eye then chuckle at his satisfied look, touching up on the details and colours of your own piece of art.

Seems like you both share very similar sentiments in your paintings. You opt to paint what you love the most- your cats, with your lovely boyfriend in between.

Instead of acting up on your ego like him, though, you settled on painting mini hearts to fill out the free space.

Give it a week, and your mugs will be delivered back to you. The previously plain ceramics painted over with a sheen of love, reflecting the experience you both created and the bond you’ve both strengthened over the date.

—

“Meow”

Alexis runs up to you the moment you enter the door. Eagerly pawing up at your legs.

You notice his faded magenta is re-dyed, and his usual pressed down fur is now more fluffed up. The natural caramel brown is now more contrasting with the bright magenta.

“Hi, ‘Lexis. Did you have a good time?” You pick him up and start to kiss him all over his now very soft and fluffy fur. “I missed you too, baby. You look so pretty. Do you feel pretty?”

The now fluffier (re-dyed) magenta cat basks in your attention, lapping his tongue at your chin while purring happily.

The old man walks up to you with Michael strutting along next to him.

“I’ve given this one a whole makeover,” He muses, “Alexis was the one who chose that colour for him.”

Michael glances up at you proudly with his pretty blue eyes- now matching with the new dye he wears on his blond fur: on the top of his ears and the ends of his tail. His fur is noticeably shorter, and a little choppy around his head, framing his usual fluffy face.

It makes him look so silly, to be honest. But he’s so satisfied with it, you decide to not comment on the choppy part.

You do, however, comment on his new dye job.

“What a beautiful shade of blue,” You coo at him, giving into his attempt at flaunting for compliments. “Look at you, my little emperor. So royal.” His fluffy tail stands up high, and wags in approval.

Returning your attention to the old manager, you teasingly ask, “Were they on their best behaviour, old man?”

He chuckles and nods at the two cats now staring at him, “Yup. They’re good alright. I’d say they deserve some new toys and some premium kibbles.”

You smile, satisfied hearing his response. “Well, I did promise to restock Alexis’ favourite kibble.” You pick Michael up along with Alexis, then place them on the seat of a trolley nearby.

Turning to your idle boyfriend (who has been nervously eyeing a certain magenta cat), you ask, “Could you help me get the premium kibbles, ‘Ichi? I’ll bring these two around for them to pick their new toys.”

Isagi smiles crookedly, “Sure, honey.” He tries to shrug off the way the blond cat is narrowing his eyes at him, but mostly at the ominous smile the magenta one is sending him. “Take your time.”

He’ll just have to find a way to counter the two jealous kitties soon.

© littlemissferret 2024 ✦ do not repost, translate or modify .

a barking cat video made me write allat

- im ngl i feel kinda shy writing lovey dovey romance, u can tell its really stiff - probably will resort back to chaos dumping or maybe will try to put myself out there

hes so skibidi coded 😻

SERIES : BASTARDS IN MÜNCHEN

04 // casual conversations between two footballers - [ series masterlist : 03 ,, 05 ]

sypnosis: kaiser has plans to devour you

no prns used (reader). bm academy timeline. ness is only around at the start. cw: swearing. some dialogue-shit-talking. kaiser & reader showering together.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to turn out. You weren’t supposed to be there. You're supposed to be anywhere else but there right now!

Ness widens his eyes in disbelief. It was supposed to be an easy win like always- the rest of their team passing around when convenient, leading up to his assist, then Kaiser scores the inevitable goal.

So, why exactly are you currently clashed with his team’s ace forward? Your limbs stretched out, restricting each other from progressing any further. Kaiser’s forearm in front of your chest; Your thigh pressing onto his calves.

“LOOSE BALL!” Your teammates call out as the defenders are quick to pass the ball back onto the midfield.

“Tch,” Kaiser expresses in irritation. “Should’ve known you got something gearing up in that hollow head of yours when you begged Coach to have you switch teams.” Wasting no time, he sprints towards the ball.

You smirk, following right on his trail. “Playing alongside you and playing as part of your little charade has gotten boring, I had to do a little switcheroo to stay entertained.”

Glancing over to your teammates’ current positions. You then suddenly dash off to the other side of the field.

“SCHNEIDER! PASS!” You signalled towards your midfielder. Eyes still darting around the field.

As the ball is speeding towards you, the opponent team’s defenders prepare themselves to face you.

You can see both central defenders and the left wing back running towards you. Using their speed to assume their next action- you shot the ball forward, angled slightly to the right.

“!?” The defenders were caught off-guard by your shot. Get played, NPCs. The field is truly your playground- and you’re that one big mean bully in charge of letting the smaller ones know their place.

“What was that, man!?” Your teammate yells at you. Silence, no-name lackey. This big-brain play is too much for his smooth, non-wrinkled supposedly-complex organ to interpret.

Bursting towards the ball with surprising powerful acceleration, you didn’t need to yell back to your teammate to answer him as you then launched a finishing kick at the ball.

A vertical spin direct shot. The ball curves so dangerously beautiful it sent shivers down Ness’ spine as he helplessly watched from his place.

“PWWWWWT!” - the referee finalises your goal with his whistle.

SCORE : 1 - 1 (TIE)

“Alright, time’s up. Match’s over. Take a nice relaxing shower, and I’ll meet you guys in the footage room for an overview.” Coach shoo’s everyone off the field to the showers. Even someone as experienced as him can’t handle that much foul stench of stinky teenage sweat in one day.

“Yes, sir!”

—

You’re currently humming in the showers, slathering shampoo onto the top of your head as you massage your scalp soothingly. What a match that was, you’re really improving and getting better at kicking a ball around.

And of course, someone has to disturb your well-deserved me-time.

“You humiliated me twice on the field today,” Kaiser took the spot beside you in the showers, even though there are so many vacant ones elsewhere. “I won’t underestimate you any further. That was my mistake.”

You side-eyed him with your hands still up on your head. “Dude. In the showers, really?” You quickly start washing yourself off with the cold water, ever so eager to get out of confrontations.

“I commend you,” The blond earnestly compliments. “For your ability to read every single player’s positions so well.” He presses his lips together grimly.

You pause, then sigh. For the first time in this facility, willing to cooperate. “Just spit it out already, what is it that you wanna ask?” You were always the one to barge into people's conversations, rather than having them to walk up to you and start talking. You look at Kaiser weird for wanting to chat with you- more so for the lack of his usual judgy tone.

Kaiser stares right into your eyes, “You purposefully positioned yourself behind me, after you sent the ball flying front. You placed yourself in my blind spot, and you took the chance to sprint to the other side of the field. Fully utilizing everyone else’s position and focus on the ball.” He reads your face to gauge out any reactions, “You were able to predict- no, you knew what everyone’s next move was, in a live match. Weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Now you’re just pointing out the obvious. What of it?”

“I want to know how you did it.” His brows are now screwed together at your indifference, “I will learn and evolve, then gracefully destroy you and everyone else on the field.”

You only raise a brow at that bold statement, “I just use my eyes.” Deciding to not address his threat- or promise, you start getting up and reaching for your towel.

“Elaborate.” He hisses out as he rushes to follow after you. Did he even wash off the soap properly? He’ll get skin irritation for that.

“There’s really nothing much to it,” you shrug then start patting your wet hair with the towel. “When I’m out on the field, I multitask to watch everyone. So while I’m able to carry out my own objective, I’m also able to react to other people’s decisions and predict their live objectives while at it.” You struggle stuffing your arm into the holes of the shirt.

“Think of it as like, opening multiple tabs on Google, or running a variety of different heavy-duty tasks on your PC.” You stretch your arms to the back, “It’s incredibly taxing at the start, but it’s so absolutely atrocious, disgustingly, mind-fuckingly fun.”

Ignoring your use of vocabulary, Kaiser allows himself to ponder over your words.

You grin at him, poking his bicep as he stood silently. “Once you learn that little trick, I’ll show you how to recreate my incredible Midas’ Touch too.”

“Midas’ Touch?” Breaking himself out of his trance, he looks at you with a brow raised. “Is that what you named your curveshot? Lame.”

“It’s not just any curveshot!” You boast loud and proud, “It’s a clinical shot that the audience will wet their pants over, you know? I know that I get them on edge with that finisher.”

He scrunches his face at your choice of words, but plays along with you anyway. “Well, my Kaiser Impact shits on the opponents- AND my goal will be so batshit insane that the audience wishes they can see it coming.” He starts smirking, getting confident. “It’s going to be so fast that they’ll get a whiplash by simply witnessing it from their seats.”

You both start laughing over each other, while simultaneously throwing in add-on statements, glazing the absolute fuck out of your own signature shots.

“Yeah, your Kaiser Impact is the most beautifully destructive weapon I’ve ever seen.”

For a moment, Kaiser pauses. He stares at you, eyes blown wide. What the fuck? You, the most demented, narcissistic player of all of Bastard München Academy, just complimented him?

He suddenly feels light-headed. Like he could vomit on the spot.

“Oh, you should probably start wearing your clothes too. Wouldn't want Coach to get all pissy at you for being late again. Would we?”

You smile cheekily at him, throwing his pants over his head.

Maybe he’s caught a cold, or gotten sick from being bare-skinned in the air-conditioned room for quite awhile. Because at that moment, you start to seem less annoying and he starts to find your company more.. enjoyable. He can't help but feel excited at the notion of the both of you talking again.

Yeah, he's definitely gonna throw up if he keeps this up.

Somehow, it fuels his desire to devour you on the field. He needs to destroy you- as beautifully as you described his Kaiser Impact.

© littlemissferret 2024 ✦ do not repost, translate or modify .

yippeeee the plot thickens !! reader's the one that introduces meta vision to kaiser 😼

- kaiser is now reader's little vomit bug - think i got abit too soft on their interactions for the bottom half... i was listening to sweet love songs

second chance romance with sae. write it.

x : WITH(OUT) :*+ﾟ

in which: after a messy breakup with sae, you find yourself waking up next to him two weeks later, this time just more in love.

warnings: 1.8k words, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, SFW, gn!reader, tooth-rotting fluff with quite a bit of angst, a lot of metaphors here and there i apologise if they don't make sense get on my brainwave (nicely), ooc!sae perhaps uhh lol, bad writing, reblogs appreciated!!

a/n: lets see if tumblr community labels this post... sigh. rip first version u were a champ. this is my official claim to become tumblr's sfw itoshi brothers (separate) writer. i've made progress with rin, it's time to show some (reluctant) love to sae!! i literally only wrote this bc @limitlesshq and i had an agreement.

you wake up due to the rustling beside you, the movement rousing you from your slumber as the world becomes ever so clearer with each millisecond, the drowsy haze wearing off you as you take in your surroundings.

there’s a white ceiling overhead, the mattress beneath you feels like a cloud, and you can’t remember when your sheets turned a shade of gray. no- scratch that, you can’t remember when your mattress became this soft. 

hold on.

this wasn’t your room and the mop of magenta hair lying atop your chest is an indicator of such.

you’re in bed with a soccer star who just so happens to be the ex you messily broke up with two weeks ago. he’s wrapped around you like nothing had ever happened; as if you two were still in love and devoted to one another and hadn’t shouted at each other to the point that your throats were sore for a days afterwards. 

you needed to get out of here which was something easier said than done. especially when you had itoshi sae lying on top of you, wrapping you in a vice grip as he sunk further and further into your warmth, chest methodically rising up and down. you want to slap him for being so peaceful in this very moment. that should be you but instead, you’re panicking and trying to avoid another messy scene with your ex. 

the fact that said-ex was itoshi sae too… goodness what have you gotten yourself into. you should get out of here before it’s too late.

slowly, you begin to shuffle away, trying to pull yourself away from sae’s grasp. 

you’re halfway out when you hear the magenta-haired whine quietly, the sound causing you to turn your head and look at him. it’s to your horror that you’re greeted by a pair of hazy, turquoise eyes, still groggily waking up as sae tries to adjust to his bearings. he blinks a few times, waking up a little more with each flutter.

“where are you going?” he asks, voice hoarse from unuse. his arm tightens ever so slightly around you, pulling you back towards him and completely ruining your efforts.

you’re stunned, unsure of how to respond as sae tucks himself into your chest, breathing you in.

you hate the way you feel your heart lurch in your chest, rapidly beating with the urge to be as close as possible to him. this feels like a life you once knew, especially when his fingers start running up and down your spine, nimbly finding their way under your shirt. 

“sae,” you breathe out and his ministrations stop, diverting all of his attention upon you. “i have to go.”

he groans his protest, shaking his head. “why?”

“i just have to.”

“no.”

“what?”

“stay.”

“what?”

“did you not hear me? i said stay.”

just to prove his point a little more, he puts even more of his weight on you, tangling his legs with yours as if rooting you to his mattress. ever so demanding, he is.

the breakup was disastrous and entirely hurtful, wrecking you from the inside out when you woke up the next morning registering the previous night. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so heartbroken and it hurt even more with every trace of sae that remained in your apartment. looking back, perhaps it was a little naive to believe that he was the one for you, that he was your endgame and not simply another lesson to heal from. all that time spent in a relationship, crumbled thanks to an argument that lasted for three hours and ended with a decisive slam of his door. 

yet just when you thought you were making process on the journey away from him, sae finds a way to pull you back in.

“i can’t stay,” you whisper, voice already a little shaky.

the magenta-haired looks up at you, apathetic eyes boring into yours. “but why?”

“i just- i just can’t. thank you for letting me stay over but i’m going to go home now-”

fingers thread through yours and sae’s hand pulls yours closer towards him. a pair of warm lips press themself to your skin and linger there as if burning and branding you- all of you, as his. 

he then kisses each of your fingers delicately and softly. “don’t go,” he mutters between pecks.

you feel a little breathless. like he’s punched your gut with every piece of gentle affection he plants, twisting the knife he had stabbed in your chest two weeks ago deeper and deeper, reopening the raw wound of hurt and pain with unmatched love.

you need to leave before anything else can happen, before you begin breaking down in front of him. 

quickly shuffling away from the athlete, you abruptly pull your hand out of his, throwing the covers off of you. however quick you may have been though, sae is undeniably faster, his hands crossing the distance to pull you back. his strength forces you to sit down once more and you bounce a little from the soft impact. he drapes himself around you again, chin resting on your shoulder. 

“let me go,” you plead, putting your hands over his wrists as if trying to pry them off but you feel too much for sae to truly try and resist him. his spell, no matter how hard you try to fight back, is just as potent. 

you fear that you may never be immune to his poison. 

he begins trailing kisses along your skin, uncharacteristically affectionate. “i can’t,” he begins, voice wavering uncharacteristically, traces of heartbreak evident in his tone. this display of emotion shocks you endlessly and you stop fighting against him, freezing when you feel his breath shudder against your skin.

your heart is thumping heavily, causing your chest to clench.

"stop messing around, we-"

"i'm not messing around just stay," he hushes gently, "please."

you feel the world stop for a second. sae? pleading? he knew how to do that? the prospect of sae beseeching for anything was incredibly unfamiliar and the fact that his voice cracked merely proves how entirely unfamiliar the word was in his vocabulary. 

the love you feel for him will choke you before heartache does. unbeknownst to you, a tear begins sliding down your cheek and you don’t feel it until it’s halfway down.

“hey, hey, hey,” the magenta-haired mumbles, catching the tear with his thumb. “don’t cry.” 

he sounds so tender and doting it hurts. there’s so much love in the way he’s holding you, pressing himself closer to you with each minute as if he hates the idea of being too far away from you, as if he was trying to make sure that you were still the same love of his life from before he hurt you tremendously, as if he was committing you to memory before he does lose you forever.

but he doesn’t want that. he wants to stay with you. sae doesn’t think he can handle another day without you, that’s why he’s so stubborn to keep you here; to put you under his spell again so that you could feel an ounce of the love he has stored for you. so that this love has somewhere to go before it inevitably ruins him, punishing him for being so stupid. 

“i’m sorry,” whispers sae hurriedly. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry pretty, don’t cry.”

glancing away from him, you wipe away any remaining tears, inhaling deeply as to try and collect yourself with whatever willpower you had left.

"i need to leave," you murmur, not entirely meaning it.

"no you don't," he answers, entirely meaning it. "just stay until breakfast or something."

wordlessly, you fall back in his grasp, leaning into the athlete when you feel rapid beating against your arm. that’s when you realise that it wasn’t your racing heart… it was his. 

giving in to his desires, you tuck your legs back up on the bed and he manoeuvres you, practically cradling you whilst you find solace in his neck with your arms wrapped around his torso. here, you feel whole again. 

you’ve lived life with sae and without sae and you now know well enough to prefer the former. something tells you he feels the same too. 

“are you going to stay for breakfast?” he asks after a few minutes of simply soaking up the other’s presence. glancing up at him, his expression remains beautifully neutral, illuminated perfectly by the bright morning light that seeps through his windows. he’s radiant, gorgeous as ever. 

you hum against his skin. “i’m not too sure. i was going to leave before breakfast.”

“let’s go back to sleep then. i’m not hungry anymore.”

amused by his request, you agree nonetheless and sae is able to move the both of you around to the same positions you had woken up in with you on your back and him on top of you. the soccer player then pulls you closer and throws his leg over your hips- something he does to keep you in your spot so you won’t slip away from him again.

you won’t. you don’t want to leave and live a life without him. 

“are we back together?” you hesitantly ask. the question floats into the tranquil air, afraid to break whatever quiet, ecstatic haze you were both in but you need to know.

“will you take me back?” the soccer player counters, surprisingly shy and unsure, so unlike the arrogant sae you’re used to. he’s putting all the cards on your table despite knowing what he wants because although he wants to be with you for eternity and a little longer after that, it’s up to you to decide whether or not he deserves such a paradise.

sae can only hope you’re merciful. 

“i want to. i miss ‘us’, i miss you.” 

he immediately feels a heavy weight lift itself off and the exhale the magenta-haired lets out communicates his magnitude of relief. fate has saved him today. 

“good.” is all he says as your hands rise to the nape of his neck, playing with the hair there. “be here when i wake up.”

“so demanding,” you joke with a smile, “but okay.” 

as sae dozes off once more, you take the time to scan around his room once more whilst trying to lull yourself into dreamland as well. 

his decor had always been rather plain and it didn’t change until you started dating. remnants of you have been lingering around his place and you’re surprised he didn’t get rid of them the night you left out of rage. a little nanodroid that you gave him of a character from an anime you both like sits on his shelf, there’s that little fake plant on his desk, and there are still photos of you two on his dresser. 

he used to only have one pillow and the only reason he bought more was so you could sleep over comfortably. you don’t think too hard about the lingering smell of sae’s shampoo on the pillows that you had previously claimed as ‘yours’.

shifting a little so that you were comfortable, you gaze up at sae’s ceilings once more. a gentle smile makes its way to your face before you doze off peacefully knowing that two hearts have found their way back home. 

⌗ "I'LL GO EASY ON YOU," ⋮ but you absolutely fucking destroy him.

★ nagi seishiro x gn!reader ╰ how come you've obliterated him in something he's so good at?

▯ content warning. mentions of video game gunfire, shooting, etc.

"sei, this game looks fun," you murmured, shifting slightly to adjust your position on his lap. his eyes remained glued to the glowing screen, the faint gleam of colours casting a hazy light across his face. his arms were looped firmly around your waist, thumbs expertly swiping over the controller in his hands.

as you were cozily nestled inside his sweater, filled with the subtle scent of his cologne, you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest. you observe him deftly move his virtual character across the battlefield, shooting enemies and cursing under his breath at each hindering obstacle. after being in this same position for quite some time, a sense of boredom had begun to bubble within you.

"mm, yeah?" he mumbles, resting his chin on your head. he tilts his head down to press a kiss onto your soft hair. "it is."

"can i try?"

he stays silent for a moment, the room filled with the sounds of obnoxiously loud bursts of gunshots. he finally takes a breath and speaks, his voice muffled against your hair. "tis’ really hard though. i don’t think y’can win,"

your brows furrow as you whip your head slightly to meet his gaze, raising your hand to pinch his cheek. "hmm, how would you know? i could be better than you!"

"yeah, yeah, fine," he pulls his face away from your fingers’ grip on his cheek. he gives you a faint smile, exiting out of the game and clicking 'new game'. "i'll go easy on you."

you slide off his lap with anticipation, grabbing the fluffy bean bag he had bought exclusively for you from the corner of his room, placing it next to him. giving it a pat to smoothen its wrinkles, you made your way to the tv stand's drawer in quick strides, retrieving an extra game controller.

"you don't have to, sei," you smile warmly, settling into the softness of the bean bag as you prepare to show nagi seishiro what you were made of. "i want it to be fun."

he nods, hesitantly clicking the start button. while watching the one-minute timer displayed on the screen, he remembers to explain the rules to you.

"basically," he begins, "there’s a five-minute time limit. the person who reaches one hundred kills first, or whoever is the closest to one hundred kills, wins."

"yeah, i know, dummy." you tease, reaching out to tousle his hair, in which he responds with a subtle blush tinging his cheeks rose. "i've been watching you play for at least an hour now."

the bolded numbers on the now-split screen enlarge, signaling the beginning of the new game; 3...2...1...

you waste no time, immediately equipping your weapon, fingers swiftly moving along the buttons. silence was quick to envelop the room, thick with the weight of your competitiveness.

nagi shoots you a surprised, quick glance, before focusing his gaze back onto his side of the screen. suddenly, his attention is drawn to the corner of your part of the screen, where your kill count is displayed.

to say the least, this man was astonished to find out that you’ve racked up 63 kills in slightly under three minutes. his eyes widened in disbelief ever so slightly, registering the number with admiration.

"what the heck..." he accidentally huffs, quickly pressing his mouth together as the sound of his confused voice reaches his ears.

you let out an amused giggle, "surprised?"

he does not respond, lost in his own muddled thoughts. how could he, after underestimating you so badly? how could he say anything when you, as you were currently speaking, have over 60 kills compared to his mere 34?

the white-haired boy feels a prick of suspicion creeping in; he hadn’t known that his partner was an expert at video games. why hadn’t you told him? he sighs, realizing that the person he could have played with all this time was right beside him all along; he would no longer need to play with his tediously boring game-mates or those doltish bots which he had always deemed a hassle.

then, the game came to an abrupt stop.

98 - 52

he stares hard at the game over screen, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "nuh-uh, let's do it again..."

"ahh, i told you i could win!" you cheer, your finger lightly tugging on the skin under your eye as you stick your tongue out in jest. "and sure, i really want to hit one hundred this time!"

a soft grumble escapes his pouty lips as he buries half his head under the inside of his sweatshirt, leaving only his eyes visible. "m'baby's so cocky..."

100 - 67

"fuck, again!"

99 - 75

"this game's gotta be rigged!"

96 - 56

"seiii, i'm boredddd—"

"one mo' time,"

89 - 88

"ack–fuck this shit… i'm going to sleep."

you blink your eyes in silent amusement— this was a side of him you had rarely ever seen. your usually calm, bored boyfriend trying so hard at something; it was adorable seeing him so invested, even if it was simply a video game.

but somehow, you had managed to fire him up enough to the point of rage quitting?

"y’know sei, i was going easy on you..."

"..."

despite his muted response to the fuel you've added to the fire, you catch a glimpse of a proud smile tugging on his lips as he retreats back onto the bed, beckoning you to join him. “that was fun… play w’me again, ‘kay?”

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

lowk having the craziest hyperfixation about him

Literally all Sae needs to do is give you one look and you're a mess, it's unfair. His eyes are enchanting and he's well aware of the power they hold over you.

He simply turns to you and narrows his eyes slightly. It makes you tingle all over and feel all warm and fuzzy. Sae raises a hand, beckoning you with his index finger and you're more than happy to oblige.

"Eyes on me." That's mean. He knows exactly what his eyes do to you and he loves it.