𝕮

sure bachira's parasocial fans and the paparazzi were major issues, but it just so happened to be that your boyfriend himself was the bigger issue.

his love for you was just too loud.

everywhere you two went, any attempts of cautiousness would dissipate quickly because of bachira's antics.

bachira would throw an arm over your shoulders while the two of you waited in line for coffee, completely forgetting the dozens of ears that slowly began to recognize the unmistakable, charming laugh of blue lock's beloved drummer.

or, he'd see something that reminded him of you in the middle of a crowded shopping district and instinctively grab your wrist, dragging you through the sea of people with a loud, "look, look! that's so you!"

even when the two of you were wearing disguises, faces covered with a cap and a medical mask, bachira would somehow manage to expose your identities to the general public.

"meguru," you'd hiss through gritted teeth, tugging your bucket cap lower over your face. "remember what your manager said?"

"uhh...don't talk to strangers?"

"no."

"don't feed pigeons?"

"no, silly! not that!"

bachira tilted his head with nothing but pure confusion.

"don't act like you're dating me, dummy," you quietly muttered. your eyes darted around to ensure nobody heard that.

bachira blinked at you as if you'd spoken complete nonsense. "but i am dating you!"

"no meguru remember—"

bachira planted on a soft kiss on ur cheek and giggled. "remember what?"

"IS THAT BACHIRA?"

"no way... THAT IS HIM."

"who is THAT beside him?"

fans figured out it was bachira and they instantly knew you were acquainted with him. your stomach sunk all the way to your feet. this wasn't the first time this happened, but each time you both got discovered, it felt nerve wracking.

bachira slowly looked over at the growing crowd before flashing you an apologetic grin that wasn't even apologetic in the slightest.

"oops."

bachira grabbed your hand and broke into a run, laughing loudly as he dragged you with him, away from the fans who were beginning to chase after you both.

"c'mon! they're kinda fast today!"

"why do you sound impressed?!"

soon, you couldn't help but laugh along with him. this was straight out of a movie; a situation that many would kill to be in. you had the privilege to experience something so surreal and cinematic with the love of your life.

later that day, when you both were thankfully away from all those rabid fans, you read gossip articles that were releasing and all the fan speculations about the mysterious person who ran away with bachira.

his manager was definitely going to send you another apology bouquet tomorrow morning.

𝄞𝄢 reo mikage.

you and reo started dating long before he began his music career.

he desperately wanted to do something by himself — something meaningful and big — as a way of proving that he wasn't a product of success developed by his parents' money.

when his friends suggested to start a band called blue lock for fun, he ended up taking it way more seriously than everyone else, dreaming to make blue lock a band that was recognized worldwide.

with the help of connections, reo transformed his friend group's high school band into a band that created music with popular producers.

practice went from being held in someone's garage to a beautifully polished room with expensive equipment. concerts were no longer held in rented banquet halls but rather held in big stages where top artists were regularly performing at. they even grew quite the large fanbase, much bigger than the small student bodies from hakuho high that attended the concerts.

and throughout the entire time, you were always there to support him.

you were there when blue lock had an audience of barely twenty people. you were there when reo stayed up until three in the morning, revising proposals and sending emails to producers that would never respond.

you were also there when he'd come home exhausted after juggling rehearsals, interviews, business meetings and university assignments, only for you to wordlessly slide a warm plate of food in front of him.

and you were there when blue lock sold out their first arena.

reo still remembered spotting you in the crowd amongst thousands of glowing lightsticks and screaming fans chanting his name. he found you instantly even though you weren't screaming or jumping around like everyone else.

you were simply smiling, the same smile you'd worn years ago when blue lock's "stage" consisted of a few wooden pallets pushed together in someone's backyard.

after one particularly big show, reporters crowded around him, shoving microphones into his face. he was exhausted and just wanted to see your face. yet he still stayed and answered every reporter's question.

"mikage-san! how does it feel to know you've built one of the biggest bands in japan?" one reporter asked.

"i didn't build it alone," reo answered cooly with a cheeky smile on his face.

everyone assumed he was talking about blue lock's other members, but he wasn't. he was talking about you—subtly of course.

although he and his band members achieved greatness together, always performed together, and always took photoshoots together, it wasn't them who helped support this dream he chased. it was you, always you.

that's why reo dedicated parts of his career to you to honor you, whether it be lyrics that vaguely described you or a full album released on your birthday filled with romantic songs that were just him expressing his love for you. (his band members had no choice but to help)

"what about that love song you performed solo today? who is it about?" another reporter asked.

"don't worry about it," reo said, knowing he was headed right to the person who the song was about as soon as he finished up this side quest.

𝄞𝄢 nagi seishiro.

"maybe i should actually quit."

it's been like this for the past several days—nagi quietly complaining about his choice in career and scheming to end it all.

it wasn't his idea or initial plan to randomly become apart of a band. his best friend reo dragged him in and he ended up staying because of how passionate reo was over this whole blue lock band project.

nagi never expected the band to blow up so fast. nor did he expect he would be singing in front of thousands of people.

"it's t'much," nagi whined to you one day after a show. you, his partner, were always there for him after practice and concerts. that was the only thing he looked forward to in this whole music career—you pampering him when he was exhausted from all the singing and fans and paparazzi.

to be frank, you never expected nagi to be working in the music field, especially out in the spotlight singing. it just didn't make sense or suit him with his quiet, lazy nature.

but still, it was nice seeing nagi living such a bright life rather than working in some dull and boring corporate job. sure, his job was too demanding and often left him non-verbal from exhaustion, but deep down, you could tell he enjoys his time with the band. if it wasn't for reo, he'd probably be in a much gloomier place.

and you enjoyed having him in blue lock too, totally not because of all the gifts you received from him.

"do you actually want to quit?" you asked nagi with a sigh.

nagi didn't answer right away. instead, he buried his face deeper into your shoulder, practically melting into you as you carded your fingers through his soft white hair.

"not really."

you laughed and playfully pulled on one of his strands. "so then why do you keep on threatening to quit?"

" 'cuz complaining's easier."

that sounded about right.

nagi wasn't the type to bottle everything up. whenever rehearsals dragged on too long or interviews overstimulated him, he'd immediately announce that he was retiring from the music industry.

then the next morning he'd wake up, grumble about having to leave the house, and still show up on time.

it happened so often that everyone including you had stopped taking him seriously.

"i quit."

"no, you didn't."

"...yeah."

that happened every single time.

"you're being dramatic," you murmured and pinched his soft cheeks.

" 'm not," nagi grumbled in response.

"remember that one time you literally threatened to retire because your stylist was curling your hair."

"it took forever."

"it took fifteen minutes."

"exactly."

despite all his complaints, nagi never failed to gush about the things he actually liked. he liked making songs with reo. he liked when his other members got carried away during rehearsals because it made everything less boring. he also liked hearing the crowd sing the lyrics louder than he could.

and most of all, nagi he liked coming home to you.

no matter how exhausting the day had been, he always knew you'd be waiting sometimes with dinner or with a game already loaded onto the tv. sometimes, you'd be waiting for him with nothing more than open arms.

nagi honestly didn't care what the two of you did as long as he got to collapse beside you afterwards.

"…maybe being in blue lock isn't that bad," he mumbled, eyes already drifting shut.

𝄞𝄢 itoshi rin.

all rin wanted to do was make music.

so why did he frequently have to do everything but music?

rin hated interviews. he hated photoshoots. he hated variety shows, fan meet-and-greets, livestreams, and every other promotional event blue lock's manager insisted they participate in.

if it weren't for the music, he would've quit a long time ago.

the spotlight had never interested him. he didn't care about magazine covers calling him the "nation's most handsome vocalist." he didn't care that every piece of clothing he wore were sold out within minutes.

he certainly didn't care about the millions of people dissecting every little thing he did online. he'd call them something along the lines of "parasocial, lukewarm bugs."

music was the only reason why rin was apart of blue lock. that was it. period.

unfortunately for him, being a crucial member of one of the biggest rock bands in the country came with too much of things he disliked.

"you look annoyed." rin always had an irritated expression written all over his face, but today he looked extremely irritated.

"i am."

you chuckled, handing him a canned coffee you'd bought from the vending machine outside the studio. "long day?"

"they made us film three different endings for the same interview," rin hissed. he accepted the drink from you, the slight furrow in his brows easing slightly after he took a sip.

"oh um...that sounds terrible."

"it was."

rin took another sip and let out a sigh. "whatever. let's just get out of here." the two of you headed out of the studio and drove to your shared condo.

during the drive, some tunes from his latest album quietly played in the background. the two of you didn't speak, but the silence wasn't awkward. rin would describe it as comforting.

it always happened with you around him—that feeling of comfort.

you had a strange way of making all the noise and other irritating stuff disappear. when it was just you, rin felt the most relaxed. he can be his most authentic and vulnerable self, not the crazy good looking and talented guy on stage.

sometimes the two of you would spend hours together without saying much at all. you'd scroll through your phone while rin quietly worked on unfinished lyrics. even that made rin feel comforted. there was nothing but pure understanding in moments like that.

as the car came to a stop in the underground parking lot, rin turned to you and muttered, "thank you."

you were engrossed in whatever was displayed on your phone, but at the sound of his words, you looked up. "for what?" you asked with confusion.

"nothing," rin quickly murmured and turned away.

"you're welcome."

rin wasn't very good at expressing himself—he never had been.

since beginning his career, his naturally guarded nature grew. he holds his cards close to his chest when he is out in the world. he isn’t the type to offer much to strangers, especially his crazy fans.

but with you, the rin itoshi the world knows vanishes.

he tries in his own manner to love you amidst all the chaos the music life had to offer. instead of saying he missed you, he'd suddenly appear outside your apartment after rehearsals. instead of asking you to stay a little longer, he'd quietly lace his fingers through yours.

instead of saying "i love you" he'd write songs.

fans spent months trying to decode the lyrics he wrote, convinced they hid some profound meaning or referenced a secret muse. they were half right.

every lyric about finding peace amidst chaos and every melody that sounded just a little softer than the rest was quite literally about rin's muse—you.

𝄞𝄢 shidou ryusei.

shidou was born for the stage.

everything about his aura and his personality screamed that he deserved the spotlight the thing was, he would drag you into that same spotlight. not even his band members, who were literally performing with shidou, received the same popularity you got.

dating shidou was an endless cycle of crazy damage and then crazy damage control. you were never sure if he genuinely forgot your relationship was supposed to be private or if he simply chose to ignore it.

every concert somehow ended with your phone exploding from frantic messages sent by blue lock's manager.

manager: please tell me he wasn't looking at you when he sang that song

manager: did he seriously point at you during the encore?

manager: why is #[name][last-name] trending again?

the answer was always yes.

yes, shidou was literally staring at you while singing his popular love song. yes, he was pointing at you during the encore, and he ended up screaming your name too. yes, you're trending on social media again because shidou cannot be physically restrained from announcing your relationship on stage.

he'd somehow managed to do all of that despite being reminded repeatedly not to.

blue lock had just won "band of the year" for the first time and in a couple minutes, each member would be ushered onto the stage to give a speech to the world.

"ryusei, please don't say anything stupid up there," you muttered.

"huh?" shidou batted his lashes innocently, only for him to get smacked in the face by his makeup artist. she was in the middle of doing his eyeliner and he had the audacity to move his eyes.

"ow! okay sorry," shidou huffed even though there was a wide smile on his lips. "i never say anything stupid though!"

right before the speech, blue lock's manager and assistants drilled one thing into every member's head—don't reveal anything personal.

there was definitely a loose screw in shidou's head.

"first of all," he beamed at the roaring crowd as he began his speech, "thanks for makin' us the hottest band in japan!"

loud cheers erupted throughout the arena.

"second of all..."

his eyes wandered across the audience and they landed on you almost instantly.

your heart sank to your stomach. don't you dare.

shidou's grin grew wider and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"MY SEXY BABY IS HERE TONIGHT!!"

you were damned.

the arena exploded into even more loudness, fans screaming in joy or from heartbreak. people turned to you and snapped photos of you. blue lock's pr team were desperately trying to keep things organized.

but shidou only laughed, even with chaos emerging from every corner. how was he supposed to win the biggest award of his life without thanking the person he loved most?

© faeaabi 2026 do NOT: plagiarize, copy, translate, upload my work elsewhere + train ai with my work.

dividers: @/diviniyae

itoshi rin

rin isn't verbally affectionate very often, but he will drive 3.5 hours after an away match at 1 in the morning just because you texted, "i miss you," and when you open the door in complete disbelief, he simply shrugs, walks inside, and mutters, "you said you missed me," like crossing half the country was the most logical solution. 

he learns the mundane details of your life with almost obsessive precision – your work schedule, the routes you take home, which convenience store stays open late near your apartment – not because he's controlling, no, no, but because if anything ever goes wrong, he wants to already know exactly where to find you without wasting a second asking questions. 

if he notices you've been quietly overwhelmed lately, you'll suddenly find groceries already stocked in your kitchen, your laundry mysteriously folded, dinner waiting in your fridge with reheating instructions scribbled in his terrible handwriting, and when you ask if he did all this, he looks almost annoyed that you even felt the need to thank him. 

during the season, when free time practically doesn't exist, he still protects one day every month that belongs only to you, and no amount of sponsorship offers, interviews, or appearances are allowed to touch it because, in his mind, if the rest of the world can book him in advance, then the person he loves deserves the exact same priority. 

he pays attention to your safety in the quietest ways imaginable, always texting when he lands, making sure you get home before he finally goes to sleep despite the time difference, replacing worn-out locks or tires before they become problems, and treating your peace of mind like it's simply another responsibility he's chosen to carry. 

itoshi sae

sae is the busiest person you know, somehow living between countries, time zones, and nonstop competitions, yet he's mastered the art of making you feel like none of that matters because every trip is planned around seeing you whenever physically possible, even if it means booking inconvenient flights, shortening his own breaks, or sleeping in airports just to squeeze another evening together. 

he remembers dates that even you forget – your job interview from eight months ago, your grandmother's birthday, the anniversary of your first date, the day your favorite author releases a new book – and without fail, flowers, gifts, or handwritten notes arrive exactly when they're supposed to because he refuses to let distance become an excuse for carelessness. 

instead of expecting you to constantly fly out to his matches, he's the one quietly arranging transportation, hotels, tickets, and entire itineraries whenever he wants you there because if he invites you into his hectic world, he believes it's his responsibility to make sure you never have to stress over the logistics. 

he protects your privacy with almost ruthless efficiency. i’m talking interviews end immediately if reporters become disrespectful toward you, invasive photos disappear through legal teams before they can spread, and your comfort is consistently prioritized over public approval because fame is something he chose, not something he expects you to endure without support. 

no matter how glamorous his life looks from the outside, he never lets you feel like you're standing behind his career. instead, every achievement somehow becomes yours, too, because he'll always be the first person saying, "i couldn't have done this without you," even when nobody else realizes how much you sacrificed alongside him. 

nagi seishiro

nagi, the human embodiment of "that's too much work," surprisingly becomes the kind of boyfriend who willingly wakes up before sunrise just to drive you to the airport because you have an early flight, spends the entire ride with messy hair and pajamas under his hoodie, and then waits until your plane actually takes off before finally heading home because leaving earlier "felt wrong." 

despite hating phone calls with literally everyone else, he notices that hearing his voice helps you relax after stressful days, so suddenly your evenings are filled with him absentmindedly rambling while playing games, letting you sit comfortably in silence if that's all you have energy for, never making you feel like you have to entertain him. 

he quietly starts learning the things you enjoy, and yes, they're suddenly his hobbies, too, but seeing your face light up is enough motivation for someone who usually avoids effort altogether, so he'll finish an entire book series you recommended, sit through your favorite movies, or spend hours visiting museums with you without complaining once. 

if your love language is quality time, he protects it fiercely, turning down gaming sessions, sponsor parties, and even opportunities to relax by himself because he'd rather spend an ordinary evening lying on the couch with his head in your lap than attend another glamorous event where he has to pretend to socialize. 

whenever he's away for long tournaments, he records little videos instead of just sending texts – showing you hotel views, weird snacks from vending machines, random cats he spotted outside training facilities, or himself sleepily saying goodnight – because he knows hearing from him makes the distance feel smaller and that's worth every ounce of effort. 

mikage reo

reo has every luxury available to him, but instead of using his wealth to replace genuine effort, he uses it to remove burdens from your life, quietly arranging things like surprise housekeeping before your busiest work week, sending your car in for maintenance while you're occupied, or hiring movers when you casually mention wanting to rearrange your apartment because he wants your energy spent on living, not constantly solving problems. 

even during the most demanding stretches of the season, he somehow manages to attend your important moments – graduations, presentations, family gatherings, birthdays – sometimes arriving directly from airports in designer clothes with barely any sleep, because to him, if you're always cheering him on from the stands, then missing your milestones would never be acceptable. 

he learns your family as thoroughly as he learns yours, remembering everyone's birthdays, checking in on your parents after surgeries, sending thoughtful gifts to your siblings for achievements, and making the people you love feel just as cared for because if they're important to you, they're automatically important to him. 

whenever his schedule keeps him overseas for extended periods, he plans entire countdowns rather than simply saying, "i'll see you soon," sending flowers halfway through the trip, ordering your favorite dinner on particularly difficult days, organizing virtual movie nights despite impossible time zones, and making the waiting itself feel like something you're experiencing together rather than separately. 

perhaps the thing that raises your standards most is that he never makes love feel conditional on convenience. no matter how successful he becomes, how packed his calendar gets, or how many people compete for his attention, you never have to beg for consistency because he decided a long time ago that if he was going to love someone, they would never have to question whether they were a priority. 

bachira meguru

bachira is the type to treat distance like it's a minor inconvenience rather than an actual obstacle, so if he has two free days between league matches, he's already on the earliest train or flight to see you, grinning from ear to ear the second you open the door because to him, 24 hours together is infinitely better than waiting another month for the "perfect" opportunity. 

he notices when you've been emotionally exhausted long before you admit it, and instead of asking you to explain everything, he'll whisk you away somewhere quiet without telling you the destination, showing up with your favorite snacks, a weighted blanket, and absolutely no expectations besides spending the day making you laugh until you forget the weight you've been carrying. 

every city he visits somehow becomes a scavenger hunt for things you'd love, whether that's handmade jewelry from a tiny local market, a sketchbook because yours is running low, or flowers pressed inside a random book he found while wandering around, and every gift comes with an animated story about how he found it because the memory matters just as much as the object itself. 

he celebrates your achievements with the same excitement he celebrates his own goals, posting about your accomplishments with absolutely zero embarrassment, telling teammates about you every chance he gets, and making you feel like the coolest person in every room because your happiness genuinely feels like one of his greatest victories. 

even after exhausting 90-minute matches where he's barely able to keep his eyes open, he'll still stay awake long enough to ask about your day in full detail, listening so attentively that you almost forget he's running on pure adrenaline and exhaustion, because loving you has never been something he squeezes into the leftover parts of his schedule. 

shidou ryusei

shidou doesn't understand the concept of "too far" when it comes to you, so if he suddenly has one unexpected day off, he'll impulsively buy a ticket across the country just to surprise you with breakfast, acting like spending hundreds of thousands on last-minute travel is completely reasonable because, in his eyes, seeing you smile is worth every single yen. 

he becomes ridiculously protective of your happiness, and if he hears you've had a terrible day, he's already outside your place with takeout from three different restaurants because he couldn't decide what you'd want, insisting the entire evening belongs to you while refusing to let you lift a single finger. 

no matter how chaotic or unpredictable his own life becomes, you never have to chase him for communication because he refuses to let you wonder where you stand, sending voice messages from locker rooms, airports, hotel elevators, and team buses just to remind you that you're constantly on his mind despite everything happening around him. 

he's incredibly attentive in ways people don't expect from him, memorizing your coffee order after hearing it once, replacing your favorite top because he noticed the sleeves were fraying, or carrying pain medication, hair ties, and portable chargers in his bag simply because you once needed one months ago and he refused to ever be unprepared again. 

when you're together, he treats the outside world like background noise, happily ignoring teammates blowing up his phone, sponsorship emails, and interviews running late because if he promised you the day, then that's exactly what you're getting, undivided attention and all. 

karasu tabito

karasu notices problems before you even realize they're becoming problems yourself, quietly fixing things behind the scenes – booking appointments you've been putting off, researching solutions when you're stressed, reminding you about important deadlines. he doesn’t think you're incapable, but he believes partners should make each other's lives easier whenever possible. 

after away matches, he'll drive several hours instead of flying if it means he gets to spend the ride talking to you on speakerphone the entire time, happily arriving home at three in the morning completely exhausted because hearing your voice made the trip feel shorter than any flight ever could. 

he learns the people closest to you surprisingly well, becoming the boyfriend your friends and family trust because he's always checking whether everyone got home safely after gatherings, remembering important details about their lives, and making an effort with the people who matter to you without ever being asked. 

he never leaves emotional labor entirely on your shoulders. difficult conversations happen the moment something feels off instead of weeks later, apologies come with changed behavior instead of empty promises, and he consistently proves that maturity isn't about never making mistakes – it's about refusing to repeat them. 

despite being one of the busiest athletes in the country, he still somehow becomes your biggest supporter outside of soccer, showing up to events that have absolutely nothing to do with him, sitting through hours of something he knows nothing about with genuine interest simply because seeing you passionate about your own world makes him proud. 

kaiser michael

kaiser has access to private jets, luxury hotels, and practically every convenience money can buy, but the thing that surprises you most is how often he chooses the inconvenient option if it means spending more time with you, willingly sitting through six-hour drives together because you once mentioned road trips felt more romantic than flying. 

every luxury he offers is thoughtfully personalized instead of excessive, so rather than showering you with random expensive gifts, he remembers the exact necklace you paused to admire months ago, replaces your worn-out laptop because he noticed it struggling, or quietly upgrades your plane ticket after you've had an exhausting week because he wants your life to feel gentler whenever he can help it. 

he has an almost frightening memory for the smallest details about you, recalling conversations from over a year ago with complete accuracy, so when you casually mention wanting to visit a tiny coastal town someday, you later discover he's somehow organized an entire vacation around that single passing comment without ever bringing it up again. 

despite his reputation and enormous ego on the field, he makes sure you never feel like you're competing with his image, introducing you proudly instead of keeping you hidden, shutting down disrespect from reporters without hesitation, and making it abundantly clear that the opinions of strangers have absolutely no influence over the respect he gives the person he loves. 

perhaps the biggest surprise is that he never expects you to revolve your life around his career; instead, he's the one rearranging training breaks, flying overnight after champions league fixtures, or sacrificing his own comfort to attend your milestones because loving you means fitting himself into your world just as much as inviting you into his. 

ness alexis

ness is unbelievably intentional, so every time he travels abroad, he keeps a running list on his phone titled "things she’d love," adding to it throughout the trip until he returns home carrying books in your favorite genre, pastries from tiny bakeries he waited in line for, perfume samples he thought matched your vibe, and little handwritten notes explaining why each item reminded him of you. 

he pays attention to your routines with incredible care, automatically learning what time you usually wake up, when work becomes stressful, the days you tend to forget to eat lunch, and gently building little habits around those moments so you always feel quietly looked after instead of having to ask for help. 

because he knows professional soccer often forces him away for weeks at a time, he prepares for your loneliness before it even happens, leaving handwritten letters around your apartment for different occasions – "open when you've had a bad day," "open when you miss me," "open if you can't sleep" – making the distance feel a little less empty every single time. 

he never allows his career to become an excuse for inconsistency, so no matter how late training ends or how chaotic travel gets, he always finds time for a proper conversation instead of sending one-word replies, believing that if you can dedicate your patience to supporting his dreams, then he can dedicate 30 uninterrupted minutes to hearing about yours. 

he loves you loudly in private, but gently in public, instinctively stepping between you and invasive cameras, making sure you're comfortable at crowded events, fixing your coat when it's slipping off your shoulders, memorizing the little things that make your day easier, and constantly proving that real devotion isn't measured through grand declarations, but through hundreds of tiny acts of care repeated every single day. 

chigiri hyoma

chigiri understands better than most how precious time is, so even with a schedule packed full of league matches, recovery sessions, and endless travel, he still finds ways to make you feel woven into his everyday life, calling you while he's stretching after training, sending photos of sunsets from whatever country he's in, and never letting more than a few hours pass without reminding you that he's thinking about you because he refuses to let distance slowly turn into unfamiliarity. 

no matter how exhausted he is after a match, if your flight lands late at night or your train arrives after midnight, he's already waiting outside with your favorite drink and one of his jackets because the thought of you coming home alone when he could be there simply never crosses his mind as an acceptable option. 

he pays attention to the little ways you take care of everyone else and quietly returns that same energy tenfold, replacing your skincare products before they run out, restocking your favorite tea because he noticed the box was almost empty, and buying fresh flowers for your apartment simply because he knows they make you smile after long days. 

he never expects you to constantly adapt around his career, instead making sure you always have a say in your relationship despite how demanding professional football can be, planning vacations around your availability rather than his convenience and making it abundantly clear that your own goals deserve just as much consideration as his. 

when the media inevitably becomes invasive, he protects your peace with unwavering calm, refusing interviews that cross personal boundaries, keeping your relationship sacred instead of performative, and making sure that behind closed doors you're never dating an international superstar – you're simply loved by hyoma. 

barou shoei

barou treats taking care of you as naturally as breathing, so before leaving for lengthy away fixtures he'll meal prep enough food to last the week, leave detailed reheating instructions on the fridge, restock every household necessity without mentioning it, and somehow make your apartment cleaner than when he arrived because, to him, love should make someone's life noticeably easier. 

he'll drive ridiculous distances after matches just to spend a single evening with you, arriving well past midnight still smelling faintly of fresh grass and stadium lights, refusing to stay at a hotel because sleeping beside you – even for a few hours before driving back for training – is infinitely more valuable than getting perfect rest. 

he notices practical problems immediately and fixes them before they inconvenience you, replacing broken furniture, changing light bulbs, repairing things around your apartment, carrying heavy groceries without a word, and making it impossible for you to remember the last time you had to struggle with something alone because he's already halfway through solving it. 

despite his intimidating personality, your family quickly realizes he's unbelievably dependable, always the first person volunteering to help your parents move furniture, showing up early to family gatherings carrying enough food for everyone, or quietly checking whether your younger siblings made it home safely after nights out without ever asking for recognition. 

he has impossibly high standards for himself as your partner, so if he ever disappoints you, he doesn't hide behind excuses or pride – he changes his behavior immediately, believing actions are worth infinitely more than apologies, and making sure the same mistake never happens twice because he refuses to become another man who only promises improvement. 

yukimiya kenyu

yukimiya makes an active effort to learn every version of you, paying attention to how you act when you're happy, anxious, overwhelmed, exhausted, or excited until he knows exactly what kind of comfort you need without forcing you to explain yourself every single time, making you feel understood in ways you didn't realize were possible. 

even during the busiest fashion campaigns and football seasons, he still plans intentional date nights weeks in advance because he refuses to let your relationship become something that only exists between obligations, proving over and over again that romance isn't reserved for special occasions – it deserves to exist in ordinary life, too. 

he somehow remembers every compliment you've ever given him and quietly returns them through actions, so if you once admired how peaceful a certain café looked online, he surprises you with reservations there months later, or if you mentioned wanting to watch a meteor shower together someday, he's already found the perfect location long before the date arrives. 

when you're feeling insecure, he never dismisses your emotions with empty reassurances. instead, he patiently reminds you through consistent affection, thoughtful words, lingering glances, and countless little gestures exactly why he chose you, making your confidence something he nurtures instead of something you have to rebuild alone. 

regardless of how many fans recognize him in public, he never lets you feel invisible standing beside him, instinctively including you in conversations, reaching for your hand without hesitation, introducing you proudly to teammates and colleagues, and making it obvious that the person whose opinion matters most has always been yours. 

iglesias bunny

bunny somehow makes a globe-trotting football career feel astonishingly intimate, sending you postcards from every country he visits even though texting would be faster because he knows you'll tuck the postcards into books, display them on your desk, and reread his messy handwriting whenever you miss him, turning ordinary pieces of paper into tiny reminders that you were never forgotten. 

whenever he finally gets a stretch of time off, he doesn't immediately book luxurious vacations or extravagant getaways – instead, he asks what you've been putting off because you've been too busy, then spends his entire break helping you accomplish those things together, whether that's redecorating your apartment, visiting family, finishing personal projects, or simply sleeping in without alarms for the first time in months. 

he's endlessly curious about your passions, showing up to events he knows absolutely nothing about, asking thoughtful questions, remembering the names of people important to your hobbies or career, and making you feel like everything you love automatically becomes worthy of his attention simply because it's part of your world. 

even with sponsors constantly pulling him in different directions, he fiercely protects your private traditions, making sure birthdays are always celebrated together, anniversaries are never outsourced to expensive gifts, and little rituals – like sunday breakfasts or late-night supermarket walks whenever he's home – remain untouchable no matter how famous he becomes. 

he constantly reminds you through both words and actions that you're a partner rather than an accessory to his career, checking in before making major decisions, asking how certain opportunities would affect your shared future, and making sure every dream he chases leaves room for yours alongside it. 

hugo vivian

hugo has an incredibly demanding career with endless travel, media appearances, and championship pressure, yet he somehow makes consistency look effortless by ensuring that no matter where he is in the world, you never have to question whether you'll hear from him that day because loving you isn't something squeezed between appointments – it's built directly into his routine. 

if you've had an important event he couldn't attend because of a match, he doesn't simply apologize and move on – he recreates the celebration himself as soon as he's home, dressing up, taking you out, bringing flowers, taking photos together, and insisting your accomplishments deserve to be celebrated properly even if he has to do it a week later. 

he quietly studies the little inconveniences in your everyday life and starts eliminating them one by one, arranging transportation when your commute becomes stressful, replacing things before they wear out completely, researching solutions whenever you casually complain about something once, and making your life noticeably lighter without expecting praise for it. 

he's incredibly emotionally available despite the pressure surrounding his career, never making you feel guilty for needing reassurance or wanting more time together, willingly having difficult conversations even after exhausting matches because he'd rather lose sleep than allow misunderstandings to grow into distance. 

perhaps the biggest thing that raises your standards is that he never makes you feel like you're waiting around for him to finally have time to love you – even as one of the world's biggest football stars, he consistently proves that the right person doesn't merely fit you into their schedule – they build their schedule around making sure you always feel chosen. 

Across the room, Rin watched his own spouse enthusiastically embrace another man.

Granted, the other man happened to be printed on polyester. Oh, that technicality did very little for his mood.

"Oh my gosh... Rin, look at him! They actually used the official artwork!" You turned the pillow around excitedly, admiring every little detail as though it belonged in a museum. "The jacket! The gloves! They even got the stupid haircut right! This is literally the sold-out version!"

You looked seconds away from crying tears of joy.

"I've wanted this forever..."

"...You really like it," he observed quietly.

"I love it!" You immediately wrapped both arms around the pillow again, happily squeezing it against your chest. "I don't think you understand how impossible these are to find anymore. Rin, this is genuinely the best surprise you've ever given me!"

"...I see."

His response came quietly.

You were far too busy admiring the body pillow to notice.

"It'll look so cute on the bed... Oh! Or maybe the couch? Actually..." You tilted your head thoughtfully. "No, definitely the bed."

Across the room, Rin sat perfectly still.

His gaze drifted from you......to Leon.

...then back to you again.

A long, contemplative silence settled over the living room.

Only when you looked up to show him the pillow again did you finally notice the look on his face.

"...Rin?"

"I've been home for less than ten minutes." His voice remained as calm and matter-of-fact as ever, which somehow made it even funnier. "You've hugged him three times, complimented his hair twice, and you've already decided he's sleeping in our bed."

You instinctively glanced down.

...You were, in fact, still hugging Leon.

"...Oh."

Rin rested his cheek against one hand, watching the scene unfold with the quiet resignation of a man who had accidentally sabotaged himself.

"I thought I was buying my wife a present."

Another small pause.

"It appears I've introduced a third party into our marriage."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"Rin, you're acting like you're competing with a pillow."

"I am."

"It's literally stuffed cotton."

"And yet..." His eyes lingered on the way you instinctively hugged it a little closer while laughing. "...it's winning."

That somehow made you laugh even harder.

Rin watched you cling happily to the pillow he'd reluctantly purchased, wearing the resigned expression of someone who had engineered his own downfall with frightening efficiency.

"...I was trying to make you happy," he muttered.

"You did."

Still smiling, you carefully set Leon against the couch before wandering over to your husband instead.

Without a word, you slipped your arms around his waist and rested your chin against his chest.

"You know..." you said thoughtfully, "...there might be a way to make this easier."

"...There isn't."

He looked down at you with obvious suspicion.

"...You know, if you're really that worried about competing with Leon..." You reached up to smooth a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. "You could always cosplay him next Halloween. I'll even buy the jacket, the tactical gear... everything."

Rin blinked.

Rin stared at you. He actually thought about it. Then his eyes wandered to the body pillow on the couch. A quiet sigh escaped him.

"...I'd still lose."

You reached up, gently smoothing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead before laughing softly. A faint smile finally found its way onto his face before he rested his forehead against yours.

"...I'm still throwing that wig away after Halloween."

"I wasn't talking about the wig."

He looked at you questioningly.

"I was talking about Leon." Your grin widened. "He'd think you'd look handsome too."

Rin let out the longest, most defeated sigh imaginable before wrapping his arms around you anyway.

"...Next time," he mumbled into your hair, "I'm buying you flowers. Flowers don't sleep in my bed."

˚₊‧꒰ა JULIEN LOKI

"You've asked me three times already."

The snowy trail crunched beneath your boots as Julien glanced over his shoulder, looking far too amused for someone who'd been dragging you uphill for the better part of an hour.

"And I'll ask a fourth," you replied, tugging your scarf a little higher. "Exactly how much longer are you planning to torture me?"

He didn't even hesitate.

"...Five minutes."

You stared at him.

"That's what you said fifteen minutes ago."

"It was."

"So you lied."

"No." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You simply climbed slower than I calculated."

You let out an exaggerated gasp.

"...Did you just blame me for your estimate?"

"I prefer to think of it as encouraging self-improvement."

"You are unbelievable."

"I've been told confidence is one of my better qualities, mon cœur."

You laughed despite yourself.

Hiking had always been one of Julien's favorite ways to spend the off-season. The mountain trails challenged him just enough to keep things interesting, and he claimed the climb made the view feel earned.

You were beginning to suspect he mostly enjoyed watching you grumble your way to the summit.

"...You're smiling."

"I am."

"You're enjoying this."

"A little."

"You are terrible."

"I've been called worse."

He guided you over the ice with effortless ease. Julien made a mental note to stop sounding like he was assigning homework. Coaching Paris X Gen had evidently done irreversible damage.

"You've done well," he said. "Just a little farther."

"...You promise?"

"I do."

He wasn't exaggerating this time.

A few minutes later, the trees gave way to an open ridge blanketed in untouched snow. Before you had the chance to admire the view, Julien stepped in front of you.

"Close your eyes."

You laughed.

"...Should I be worried?"

"If you were, I'd already be carrying you back down the mountain."

"I suppose that's reassuring."

"It was meant to be."

You smiled before closing your eyes anyway. And the, his hands found yours immediately, warm despite the winter air.

"...Ready?"

You nodded.

"You can look now."

Your eyes slowly opened. For a brief, impossible moment...

You forgot how to breathe.

The night sky stretched endlessly above the mountains, painted with ribbons of emerald, violet, and pale blue that drifted across the darkness like waves of light. They shimmered so gently they almost didn't seem real, illuminating the untouched snow below with an otherworldly glow.

The aurora.

You stood completely still.

"...Julien."

Your voice came out barely above a whisper.

"It's..."

You couldn't finish.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sky.

Julien already had. But, he was far more interested in watching you.

"I thought you'd like it…I checked the forecast before we left and apparently there was a high chance it'd appear tonight."

"You planned this whole hike..."

"So you'd see it."

A laugh escaped you, though your eyes had already begun to sting.

"...You walked me up a mountain just to surprise me?"

"I would've carried you if I'd needed to."

His answer was so matter-of-fact that you almost laughed again.

Instead, you turned to him.

"You know..."

"Hm?"

"I don't think I've ever seen anything this beautiful."

His gaze drifted upward for only a heartbeat before returning to you.

"I think you're mistaken," he said with a quiet smile. "The most beautiful thing I've seen tonight has been standing beside me this entire time."

Warmth rushed to your cheeks despite the freezing air.

"...You definitely planned that."

"I had the entire hike."

A laugh escaped you as you slipped a little closer.

"I'm really glad I came."

"So am I."

Julien brushed a gloved thumb across your cheek before taking your hand again.

The two of you stood quietly beneath the dancing lights, snow settling softly around your boots. After a while, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I wanted you to see the aurora at least once," he admitted. "But seeing you smile like this..."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment.

"...I think I ended up with the better view."

˚₊‧꒰ა MICHAEL KAISER

Morning sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, warming the bedroom long before you had any intention of leaving the comfort of your blankets.

"...Good morning, Liebling."

Your eyes fluttered open to find Kaiser already sitting beside you, looking suspiciously pleased with himself. Resting across his lap was a breakfast tray complete with coffee, fresh fruit, warm pastries, and a vase no larger than your palm.

Inside it sat a single rose. Freshly picked, tiny droplets of dew still clinging to its crimson petals.

You blinked once before looking back at him.

"...Breakfast in bed?"

"I figured my wife deserved a pleasant morning."

He offered you the flower before anything else.

"The rose comes first."

You accepted it with a smile, carefully brushing your thumb over one of the petals.

"...It's beautiful."

"I know."

Your eyes narrowed playfully.

"...Were you complimenting yourself or the flower?"

"The distinction is entirely up to you."

You laughed softly, gently turning the rose between your fingers.

Living with him meant never knowing when he'd decide to be insufferably charming, and somehow, it always worked.

Only then did your gaze drift toward his hands.

Faint traces of soil still clung beneath his fingernails, stubborn despite however thoroughly he'd tried to wash them away. It was a sight you'd grown surprisingly fond of over the past few months.

"...You were out in the garden again."

Kaiser glanced down at his hands before giving an absent nod, almost as if he'd forgotten the evidence was still there.

"The roses needed pruning."

"And you picked this one on the way back?"

"It seemed like the obvious choice."

When his therapist first suggested gardening as a therapeutic activity, you'd quietly wondered how long it would last.

Kaiser had never been particularly fond of getting his hands dirty, and the first few weeks certainly hadn't inspired much confidence. He complained that roses were dramatically high-maintenance, accidentally overwatered more than one flowerbed, and once insisted that weeds were simply "plants with poor public relations."

You'd laughed through every setback.

Somewhere along the way, though, the complaints became observations, and the frustration turned into dedication. Now he was the one waking up before sunrise to check on new blooms before training, treating every rose with the same patience and care he'd once claimed he didn't have.

"...I'm proud of you, darling."

He looked up from the breakfast tray, a hint of curiosity replacing the quiet satisfaction he'd been wearing all morning.

"Proud?" he echoed.

You nodded, gently lifting the rose between the two of you.

"You could've dropped this whole gardening thing after a week and nobody would've blamed you. Instead, you stuck with it, even when it was frustrating." A small smile found its way onto your lips. "Look at you now. You grew an entire garden."

For a brief moment, he simply watched you.

Then his gaze drifted to the rose in your hand before returning to your face.

"Well, once I realized every flower that bloomed would eventually end up in your hands... it became something I looked forward to."

Your heart melted a little.

"...You're unfairly romantic before breakfast."

The corner of Kaiser's mouth lifted into a smile.

"I've found mornings are the best time to remind my wife that she's loved."

With breakfast long forgotten, the two of you decided to wander into the garden. Your fingers remained loosely intertwined as Kaiser led you along the familiar stone path, occasionally stopping to brush away a stray leaf or inspect a bloom that had opened overnight.

You'd always admired roses.

Kaiser, on the other hand, had grown unexpectedly fond of watching you admire them.

"...You know what this garden needs?"

Michael glanced over.

"Hm?"

"A blue rose."

A laugh escaped him.

"That's rather unfortunate, Liebling."

"I know." You sighed dramatically, still eyeing the empty space. "They're not real, but they'd be beautiful if they were."

He considered your words for a moment before stepping in front of you.

"...I suppose there's one you can still admire."

Before you could ask what he meant, his fingers gently found your wrist, guiding your hand upward until your fingertips rested against the blue rose tattoo curling elegantly across his neck.

His smile was subtle.

Almost unbearably pleased with himself.

"...You'll have to settle for this one."

You couldn't help laughing as your thumb gently traced the familiar ink.

"I don't mind."

"No?"

"I've already got the flowers." Your gaze lifted to meet his. "And I get to keep the gardener."

The smug smile he'd been wearing softened almost instantly. Without another word, he intertwined his fingers with yours and continued walking, looking every bit as satisfied as the roses blooming around him.

˚₊‧꒰ა REO MIKAGE

The VIP seats overlooked the circuit as the engines roared through the stands. You and Reo watched the cars line up on the grid, both already focused before the race had even started.

“You actually got these seats?”

Reo adjusted his sunglasses with a proud smile. “Of course.”

“You say that like this is a normal weekend plan.”

“For us, maybe.”

You laughed, looking back at the track.

The two of you had been waiting for this race for months. Reo knew every detail about the schedule, you had your favorite drivers picked out, and the debate over the podium had started before you even arrived.

“You still think he’s taking the podium?”

Reo glanced at you. “Yes.”

“You said that last race.”

“And I was close.”

“Close doesn’t count.”

He smiled. “You only say that because I was right about qualifying.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you still keep watching races with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

The lights went out, and both of you immediately turned toward the track. Reo leaned forward, analyzing every move with the same sharp focus he used on the field.

“Look at that gap,” Reo said, eyes fixed on the track.

You followed his gaze and smiled. “He’s setting up the overtake. You’ve been talking about this strategy all week.”

Reo glanced at you, impressed. “And you actually remembered.”

“Of course I did. I like hearing you get excited about things.”

A small smile appeared on his face before he turned back to the race.

“I like that you notice,” he admitted.

You looked at him, amused. “You’re enjoying this a lot.”

Reo watched the cars speed past. “Of course I am.” He glanced at you, his expression softening. “I get to watch my favorite sport with my favorite person. What’s not to enjoy?”

You shook your head, smiling.

“You really know how to make everything sound dramatic.”

Reo grinned. “I’m a dramatic person.”

“That’s true.”

The two of you laughed and returned your attention to the race. Later, during a quieter moment, you leaned against his shoulder.

“You know you didn’t have to plan everything so perfectly, right?”

Reo looked down at you, a small smile on his face. “I know.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I wanted today to be something we’d remember.”

Your expression softened as you looked around at the race, the atmosphere, and the effort he had put into making everything perfect.

“You’re lucky you’re charming.”

“I know.”

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

“No. I’ve accepted my strengths.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

The final lap arrived, and both of you were back on the edge of your seats, cheering as the cars crossed the finish line.

When the race ended, Reo reached for your hand.

“So? Worth the wait?”

You squeezed his hand, still smiling.

“Best race I’ve seen.”

His expression immediately brightened.

“Good.”

You looked at him. “You were waiting for my review?”

“Obviously. You have excellent taste.”

The luxury seats, the roaring engines, and the unforgettable race were everything he had hoped for. But the moment Reo would remember most was sitting beside you, sharing something he loved with someone who made it even better.

˚₊‧꒰ა SHIDOU RYUSEI

"...Why are we at an airfield?"

Shidou glanced at you, then toward the plane waiting on the runway, as if the answer should've been obvious.

"Because we're jumping out of it, baby."

You looked at him, then at the plane, then back at him.

"...I'd like to go back to the hotel."

"Too late."

He slung an arm around your shoulders, already steering you toward the check-in counter.

"I booked this weeks ago."

"...Weeks?"

"'COURSE! You don't just wake up and accidentally skydive."

"...You apparently do."

He laughed so hard he nearly walked past the entrance.

Living with Shidou meant every vacation came with a mystery activity. Sometimes it was harmless. Sometimes it involved willingly leaving an airplane.

Anyhow, ten minutes later, you stood in a harness as the instructor checked the straps one last time.

"...I look ridiculous."

Shidou gave you a slow once-over before breaking into a grin.

"BABY, YOU LOOK COOL AS HELL!"

"I look vacuum-sealed."

"Exactly."

"..."

"...Cool as hell."

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

He only laughed, reaching over to straighten one of your loose shoulder straps before giving it an approving pat.

"There."

"...That did absolutely nothing."

"It made me feel useful."

"You've already dragged me here."

"I prefer the word inspired."

"...Threatened."

"NAH!"

His grin softened.

"I JUST KNOW YOU'D END UP LOVING IT!"

The plane climbed higher, but your confidence dropped. You kept your eyes on the cabin floor while the instructor explained what to expect.

Beside you, Shidou was practically vibrating with excitement.

"BABY, LOOK OUTSIDE!"

"...No."

"C'mon."

"No."

"JUST ONE PEEK."

"Absolutely not."

He bumped your shoulder with his.

"YOU'RE MISSIN' OUT."

"I'm preserving my sanity."

He laughed quietly before slipping his hand into yours.

"...You're really scared, huh?"

"A little?"

"You say that like you're not crushing my hand."

"...Sorry."

"Don't be."

His fingers squeezed yours back.

"I like knowing you trust me."

The words caught you off guard.

Before you could answer, the cabin door opened and a rush of wind swept through the plane. Every instinct in your body demanded a refund.

You grabbed the front of his jumpsuit.

"...If I die..."

He leaned closer.

"...you owe me one last kiss."

Shidou blinked.

Then laughed so hard one of the instructors snorted beside him.

"C'mere, baby."

He cupped your face with both hands before kissing you without the slightest bit of embarrassment.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

"If anything tries to steal you from me..." That familiar, fearless grin returned. "...it's gonna have to beat me first."

Before your heart could recover, you were falling.

Your scream disappeared into the wind as Brazil stretched endlessly beneath you, the coastline glittering under the afternoon sun. Beside you, Shidou was laughing. Not because you were scared, but because he couldn't believe he got to experience this with you.

Somewhere between the panic and the impossible feeling of flying, you started laughing too.

By the time the parachute opened, the fear had turned into exhilaration.

"...RYU!"

"WHAT?!"

"...This is actually incredible!"

His laugh echoed through the open sky.

"I KNEW YOU'D LOVE IT, BABY!"

"...You definitely could've mentioned this part first!"

"Would've ruined the surprise!"

When your feet finally found solid ground again, your knees immediately gave out.

You collapsed onto the grass with the dramatic sigh of someone who had just survived several near-death experiences. Shidou landed moments later, still wearing the biggest grin you'd ever seen.

"So?"

He crouched beside you.

"Worth it?"

You looked up at the endless blue sky, then at your husband. A smile slowly spread across your face.

"...Heck yeah."

"I KNEW IT!"

He threw both fists into the air in celebration before immediately offering you a hand back to your feet.

"...I'm never doing that again."

"YEAH YOU ARE!"

"...No."

"YEAH, 'CAUSE NEXT TIME WE'RE HOLDING HANDS THE WHOLE WAY DOWN!"

You stared at him.

"...That's somehow an even worse idea."

Shidou only laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders as the two of you started walking back together.

"MAYBE!" He planted an unapologetic kiss on your temple. "BUT IT'D BE A HELL OF A FIRST ANNIVERSARY PHOTO!"

˚₊‧꒰ა BAROU SHOEI

The kitchen was already spotless when you sat down, the table perfectly arranged and a full gourmet meal waiting in front of you. Your eyes immediately went to the apron tied around his waist.

World’s Best Househusband (And King)

You smiled.

“You actually wore it, sweetheart.”

His expression immediately soured. “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s an apron. It’s not like I’m wearing something ridiculous.”

“You’re wearing an apron that says you’re the best househusband.”

“It was your gift.”

“And you kept it.”

“Because throwing away useful things is stupid.”

You laughed softly. “You hate that it says househusband.”

“I hate that you think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You’re a terrifying striker who cleans the kitchen better than anyone and cooks me a meal like this while wearing a silly apron. It’s adorable!”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Maybe I am.”

He sat across from you, pretending he wasn’t affected.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet you made my favorite dishes.”

“That’s because I know how to cook properly.”

You took a bite, the flavors coming together perfectly. The seasoning was balanced, the presentation was flawless, and even the smallest things were prepared exactly how you liked them.

You immediately smiled.

“Sweetheart, this is amazing.”

“I know.”

“You could at least pretend to be humble.”

“I’m being accurate.”

You shook your head, laughing.

You rested against his arm, still smiling from the meal.

“People always say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Barou raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That saying is outdated.”

“Maybe,” you said, holding onto him tighter, “but it works both ways.”

Before he could argue, you looked around the spotless kitchen, the carefully prepared dishes, and the man beside you who had spent hours making everything perfect.

“You’re the best chef, housekeeper, football player, and husband ever.”

“I am not a househusband.”

You glanced at the apron he was still wearing.

“You cook, clean, organize everything, and somehow still find time to train every day.”

Barou clicked his tongue. “That’s called having standards.”

You smiled. “You’re proving my point, darling.”

He looked away, clearly refusing to acknowledge that you had a point.

“You exaggerate too much.”

“I appreciate you.”

“You make it annoying.”

“I think you like being appreciated.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

Your smile only grew. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Barou opened his mouth to respond, then stopped himself. Instead, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Eat your food before it gets cold.”

You blinked, amused. “…Wow. Is that your way of shutting me up?”

He gave a quiet grunt, looking away. “No. It’s my way of making sure my favorite customer enjoys the meal without getting distracted.”

You laughed softly. “Favorite customer?”

“You’re the only one allowed to criticize my cooking.”

You smiled, resting against him as you took another bite.

The food was perfect, the kitchen was spotless, and the man beside you was still pretending the apron and the affection meant nothing. But when he quietly reached over to fix your plate and pressed another small kiss to your temple, you knew better.

The King could deny the apron all he wanted.

He could never deny how much he loved taking care of you.

˚₊‧꒰ა GODWIN KUSO

The night had been unusually clear.

Countless stars stretched across the sky without a single cloud interrupting them, their light reflecting faintly against the quiet lake ahead. It wasn't uncommon for evenings like this to end outside. If Kuso ever had a free night, there was a good chance you'd find him somewhere beneath an open sky, quietly pointing out constellations you'd immediately forget the names of.

"...That one's Altair," he said, his gaze never leaving the sky as he traced an invisible line between several stars. "One of the brightest stars visible from Earth. People often mistake that one for Vega, but they're easier to distinguish once you know what you're looking for."

You squinted thoughtfully.

"...I think I see it."

"You've said that before."

"I know." A sheepish smile found its way onto your face. "I'm trying."

"I know."

His voice carried the faintest trace of amusement.

"And I appreciate the effort."

Satisfied with yourself, you nodded anyway.

"I'm going to get it eventually."

"I don't doubt that."

The conversation drifted onward as naturally as it always did. Godwin had a habit of speaking about the things he loved with such quiet sincerity that it was impossible not to listen. Watching him speak so earnestly about the things he loved had always been one of your favorite sights.

It was also, admittedly, one of the reasons you'd fallen in love with him.

After a while, he reached into his jacket and quietly placed a small velvet box in your hands.

It wasn't shaped like a ring box; it was far too flat. Because of this, curiosity got the better of you almost immediately.

Inside rested a certificate and a carefully folded star chart. You looked at him in obvious confusion.

"...What is this?"

"It's a star registry," he explained. "There are organizations that let you symbolically register a star in someone's name. It isn't used by astronomers, but the registration itself is permanent."

You blinked.

"...Wait..."

Your eyes dropped back to the certificate.

"...Is this saying..."

A smile crossed his face.

"I registered one in your name." A small smile settled across his face. "You always ask me which star is my favorite whenever we come out here. I realized I'd been giving you a different answer every time."

He glanced toward the sky again.

"I wanted to fix that."

Your vision blurred before you could stop it.

"So from now on," he continued, "if you ever ask me that question again... my answer will always be the same."

He unfolded the accompanying chart, tracing one set of coordinates with a gloved finger.

"I made sure it's visible from here," he said, handing you the map. "That way, these evenings don't have to change. We'll still come out here, you'll still ask me questions..." A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Only this time, I'll know exactly which star to point at."

You looked from the chart...

...to the endless sky above...

...then quietly slipped your hand into his.

"I don't think anyone will ever be able to top this."

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I wasn't trying to." His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles. "I only wanted to leave you with something that would still be here years from now. Long after tonight becomes a memory, you'll be able to look up and know there's a little corner of the sky that will always remind me of you."

You couldn't find the words. Not when your heart felt this full.

Godwin seemed to understand.

He simply lifted your joined hands and pressed the gentlest kiss against your knuckles, lingering there for just a moment before lowering them again. His smile was quiet and content, as though seeing yours had already made every bit of planning worthwhile.

You'd spent years believing Godwin loved the night sky more than anything.

It turned out...

He'd simply been waiting for the perfect way to share it with you.

couldn’t find enough kuso fics, so i decided to take the first step and write one myself. please join me in spreading the propaganda and make more kuso content because this man deserves it! also this was somehow inspired after watching rio 2 (if you get the reference, i love you). ☆

itoshi rin

every interviewer quickly realizes asking rin open-ended questions is a mistake. 

"how does it feel to score your first professional hat trick?" "... fine." "can you elaborate?" "... i scored three." 

a reporter asks him if he'd like to thank anyone after his man of the match performance. rin thinks for a full 10 seconds. "... no." 

the interview ends four questions early because nobody knows where to go from there. 

sponsors desperately want a marketable superstar, so they coach him beforehand. 

"smile." 

"okay." 

"try to sound warmer." 

"okay." 

"maybe thank the fans." 

"okay." 

the camera rolls. 

"thank you... i guess." 

bro, that's less warm. 

one interviewer jokingly asks, "any weaknesses?” 

rin answers, "interviews." 

the entire press room bursts into laughter. rin wasn't joking. 

itoshi sae

sae somehow gives the impression that he's media-trained because he always looks composed. he's not. he's just naturally expressionless. 

a reporter asks, "how important was teamwork today?" 

sae answers without missing a beat. "very." 

"can you expand?" 

"no." 

PR managers everywhere develop stress-induced migraines. 

someone asks him if he gets nervous before big matches. 

"no." 

"never?" 

"traffic is annoying." 

that becomes one of those random athlete quotes that gets edited over meme music for absolutely no reason. 

they ask him what he thinks about becoming one of the league's newest stars. 

“people say that." 

"well, do YOU think that?" 

"not really." 

his club's social media admin nearly throws their laptop because they'd already drafted three "our rising superstar ⭐" posts. 

the funny thing is reporters slowly adapt to him. by the end of the season, interviews sound like hostage negotiations. 

"one-word answers are okay." 

"good." 

"excellent! that's progress." 

nagi seishiro

nagi forgets interviews exist until someone shoves a microphone in his face and says, "congratulations on the win." 

"oh… thanks." 

they ask him what was going through his mind when he scored an unbelievable volley. 

"dinner." 

"... excuse me?" 

"i didn’t have lunch." 

the clip hits 15 million likes because everyone believes him. 

one interviewer asks him to describe himself in three words. 

"sleepy. hungry. done." 

the interviewer starts laughing so hard they accidentally end the segment early. 

he constantly answers rhetorical questions. 

"i guess dreams really do come true, huh?" 

"yeah…” 

"what?" 

"dreams… they come true." 

the club eventually starts assigning reo to stand just off-camera because whenever nagi starts drifting into outer space mid-answer, reo silently points toward the next reporter. 

mikage reo

reo walks into interviews with CEO confidence and absolutely zero filter. reporters love him because he'll answer anything. PR managers hate him because he'll answer anything. 

someone casually asks what convinced him to join his club. 

"money wasn't really important." 

his agent nods proudly. 

"i mean i already have enough." 

his agent physically leaves the interview frame. 

an interviewer asks if he gets competitive. 

reo nods enthusiastically. "absolutely." 

"with who?" 

"everyone." 

"everyone?" 

"even the GPS. if it says i'll get there at 4:32, i'm getting there at 4:31 or earlier." 

they ask him who spends the most time getting ready before matches. 

he answers: "nagi." 

nagi, walking behind him with bedhead and one untied shoe, goes "huh?” 

his biggest crime is accidentally revealing behind-the-scenes information. 

"coach gave a really inspiring speech before kickoff." 

the reporter is like "really? what did he say?" 

reo, without thinking, answers, “he said if we lost he'd shave someone's eyebrows." 

the club has to cut to commercial. 

by his second season, every interview starts with a PR representative whispering, "remember... some things stay in the locker room." 

reo smiles confidently. "of course." 

five minutes later: "so anyway, here's what happened on the team bus..." 

bachira meguru

bachira is every media manager's favorite person... until the interview actually starts. he walks in smiling, waving at every camera, complimenting the interviewer's shoes, and everyone thinks, finally, someone charismatic. 

five minutes later, he's somehow talking about how defenders "taste different." 

"... what?" 

"like... some taste like spicy ramen. some taste like stale bread." 

"taste…?" 

"yeah." 

nobody asks him to elaborate because they're honestly scared of the answer. 

he's the king of answering questions that were never asked. "what was the key to today's win?" 

"one time, i got chased by a goose." 

"sorry?" 

"i think that's why i'm so good at dribbling." 

people believe him. 

he has absolutely no concept of inside thoughts. 

"your chemistry with your striker seems incredible." 

"yeah! he looked constipated during warmups so i knew he'd have a good game." 

the camera cuts to said teammate looking absolutely betrayed. 

every interview somehow ends with the interviewer laughing instead of getting the answer they originally wanted. 

shidou ryusei (suggestive content… 😔) 

the league has to implement a five-second broadcast delay specifically because of shidou. 

every single interview begins with a PR manager saying, "please... just answer normally." 

"got it." 

30 seconds later: "that bicycle kick made me feel like i was ‘bout to finish all over the field, dude! i thought my soul left my body for a second!” 

"... we'll... use that." 

reporters try to ask him the safest questions imaginable. "how did you celebrate after scoring?" 

"i unloaded the trailer cuh." 

"... pardon?" 

"my toilet saw the chocolate gates." 

one interviewer asks what motivates him. 

"violence." 

complete silence. 

"... on the pitch!" he laughs. 

the clip ends before he can clarify. 

after one particularly chaotic interview, a veteran reporter is heard whispering into the mic, "i need a drink…” 

karasu tabito

karasu thinks interviews are funny because reporters always ask questions they already know the answer to. 

"did you expect to win today?" 

"would've been weird if i expected to lose." 

he accidentally develops a reputation for roasting reporters without actually meaning to. 

"how did you deal with their press?" 

"same way i'm dealin’ with these questions." 

"... how's that?" 

"patiently." 

one interviewer asks him for his biggest weakness. 

"answerin’ stupid questions." 

"... are you talking about soccer?" 

"i am now." 

he has the most disrespectful habit of looking directly into the camera like he's on the office every time someone asks something ridiculous. 

"do you think scoring goals is important?" 

karasu just stares into the lens. "... nah, not really." 

fans love him because every interview feels less like a press conference and more like watching someone argue with customer service. 

kaiser michael

kaiser is somehow both the easiest and hardest player to interview. he speaks clearly, sits with perfect posture, and always looks like he's in complete control... until you realize he's answering every question like he's trying to entertain himself instead of the audience. 

one reporter asks, "what makes you different from other strikers?" 

kaiser smiles politely. "i score more." 

"... anything else?" 

"that was the important part." 

sponsors beg him to sound more humble, like "remember, acknowledge your teammates." 

kaiser responds with, "of course." 

camera rolls. 

"my teammates did an excellent job creating chances." 

everyone in the room smiles. 

"it would've been a shame if i wasted them." 

the smiles disappear immediately. 

an interviewer asks if he ever feels pressure living up to expectations. 

"uh, why would i?" 

"because millions of people are watching you." 

"then they should enjoy the show." 

the clip gets turned into every football edit imaginable. 

he has a habit of accidentally making everything sound like a challenge. 

"any message for the defenders you'll be facing next week?" 

"rest well." 

"because?" 

"you'll need it." 

the opposing club's social media account reposts the clip with 17 question marks. 

ness alexis

ness is trying so hard to sound professional. emphasis on trying. 

his very first interview starts just fine actually. 

"we're all working incredibly hard, and i'm grateful to be here–" 

"what makes kaiser such a dangerous player?" 

his brain disconnects from PR mode so fast. 

"have you SEEN him?" 

"yes–” 

"he's amazing." 

“right–” 

"like... genuinely unbelievable." 

somewhere off-camera, the media manager slowly lowers their head into their hands. 

reporters quickly discover that asking him about literally anyone else gets a normal answer. but asking him about kaiser turns him into the president of the fan club. 

someone asks him to describe kaiser in one word. 

"one?" he pouts. 

"yes." 

"... that's impossible." 

during one interview, he accidentally says, "sometimes i forget cameras are recording." 

the interviewer laughs. 

"wait… they're recording now?" 

the panic on his face becomes one of the league's most-used reaction memes. 

by the end of his rookie season, interviewers intentionally sneak one kaiser question into every interview because watching ness completely abandon professionalism halfway through has become must-see television. every single time he catches himself halfway into another speech– 

"he's just so incredi–" deep breath. "he's... a valuable teammate." 

everyone knows what he was going to say anyway. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢