sae.

"You're not wearing my jersey."

That's the first thing he says upon seeing you.

No 'hi', no 'hello', no 'how are you'. Just a quiet observation said with no visible emotion. The lack of which had you squirm in place under his pointed gaze.

"Uh, yeah…" Your voice wavers as you avoid the way his dull eyes rake over your figure, staring you down like he's trying to undress you of the opposing team's jersey you're sporting.

"I'm supporting my country today…" You jut your lip out, hoping to quell his feelings of betrayal with your honest reasoning. "Does that… does that bother you?"

"…Well, I can't deny that I'm a little hurt." Bunny admits after another silent stare off, sighing softly when your pout came into view.

"Oh." Guilt consumes you in an instant at his confession. The sight of the six foot four athlete sulking at your lack of support responsible for the way your heart clenched with regret. "Bunny, I—"

"But you're free to support who you wish." Noticing your remorse, Bunny is quick to console your worries, bringing a large hand over your head to pet it. "I won't force my wishes on you."

"Really?!" You perk up immediately, the tension in your shoulder easing with relief from his gentle comfort.

"Yeah." He smiles so sweetly, eyes curving with something unreadable as he tucked the loose strands of your hair behind your ear. "Though if I score, can I ask that you at least cheer for me?"

"Of course, I promise!"

They're words you say absentmindedly.

Careless words that you come to quickly regret when you realise what exactly Bunny's harmless request from earlier entailed.

"SUPER GOLAZOOOO!"

"AND BUNNY IGLESIAS HAS DONE IT AGAIN! IT'S 3-0 TO SPAIN, A HAT-TRICK FROM THE YOUNG AND RISING STAR!!!"

Cheers erupt amongst the Spanish fans following Bunny's impressive goal. Cheering that you're supposed to be involved in— that you promised to take part in. Cheering that you just can't bring yourself to do no matter how hard you try.

Because how the hell are you meant to celebrate the utter humiliation your team faces at the hands of a single player?

You can't do that!

Even if you were held at gunpoint, you can't just abandon your team like that!

And thus, you're left with no choice but to break your promise to Bunny. A cold-blooded betrayal that you pray — with intertwined hands and growing anxiety — he doesn't notice.

But, alas, your effort is futile, and your invocations are unanswered. For the athlete has only one thought running across his mind right now, celebrating his goal with you.

Bunny's gaze sweeps over the stands with ease, intense eyes landing on you amidst the crowd as a look of anticipation overcame him. He stands there on the field, breathing hard and sweating from exertion as he waits for your approval. Something that doesn't come— the lack of which dulls the hopeful glint in his eyes.

You see it almost immediately, and while the sight of his hunched shoulders has your heart contort with unease, you still can't bring yourself to applaud him.

Bunny stares at you for a while longer, perhaps hoping you'd change your mind last minute, before he lets out a self-deprecating smile when you remain unmoved. Bringing a scarred hand to the lower half of his face, his deep eyes lingered on you for one final moment as he blew you another kiss.

Sweet affection that you've yet to return. Not when there's nothing sweet behind that mocking gesture of his.

The game continues in Spain's favour. Bunny's momentum is unstoppable as he humiliates your team even further. Something you aren't aware is possible until you see the way he absolutely dominates them. Breaking through their tight defence to score another two goals that send the crowd into a fit of bewildered cheers— noise that you pay no mind to, not when you’re too focused on the conversation behind you.

"Every time he scores, he blows an air kiss in this direction, right?"

"Yeah! I noticed that too!"

"But to who? Nobody's returning any of them?"

Don't tell me—!

Your complexion pales as you find Bunny down below on the field, eyes already fixed onto you, expectant as they wait for you to return the celebratory kiss he blew to you not too long ago.

That he-

After five consecutive goals, it finally hits you.

Bunny has not forgotten your promise of cheering.

And because he is cruel and petty, finding twisted enjoyment in your torment, he has no plans to stop scoring until you return his kisses.

Shit!

You have no words to express your shock, you can't even form a single thought at his wickedness— evil that makes the devil saintly in comparison.

The commentator speaks again, excitement woven in his voice as he broadcasts his unhinged theories. Of this game potentially being the first double hattrick of the year, a notion that strikes you with terror.

Your worst fears manifest in the way Bunny concentres, and you quickly realise that if you don't do anything about it now, this match will go down in history for being a total annihilation!

"Excuse me!"

You weave through the crowd with ease, apologising to the few that you bump into as you make your way down the stands and closer to the barrier separating you from the players.

It doesn't take long for you to locate Bunny, he's across the field, fixed intensely on the ball that his teammate dribbles past the defending line. Any seconds now and Spain can score another goal— another goal that you were not going to allow. Not if you could help it.

Cupping the sides of your mouth, you swallow whatever pride you have left and gather air in your lungs.

"Bunny!"

It's humiliating.

"That's my Bun-Bun!"

So fucking humiliating.

But what else can you do when Bunny is the cruel and unforgiving man that he is?

Your cheering, if you can even call it that given how pathetic it sounds, catches Bunny's attention in an instant. It's something he's been waiting for afterall, and it stops him dead in his tracks. The encouragement resembles a whistle, one has him perk up like an excited puppy as he rushed to find you in the crowd. An endeavour that is terribly effortless when he spots you immediately.

He stares up at you for a good moment, eyes tracing the reluctance in your expression before they fall on your figure, clad in the wrong team's jersey. A distasteful sight that has his jaw clench in tandem. His irritation grows, and Bunny finds himself helpless against his possessiveness — a trait you were always at odds with.

So, like any normal man, he grabs the end of his jersey, pulling the sweat soaked garment over his head and positioning it right in your direction with intent. You blink with utter disbelief, missing the way he throws it at you with perfect aim.

"I won't force you to put it on. It's your choice."

Choice, my ass.

You had no choice in the matter at hand!

The jersey smacks you right across the face, snapping you into immediate motion. You fumble with it at first, arms going in the wrong holes in your haste as you struggle pathetically to pull it over your head. But somehow, at mercy of a miracle, you've managed to put it on.

The collar's crooked and it clings to you uncomfortably. Drenched with sweat that you have no choice but to dismiss, and as if that isn't bad enough, the shirt's on backwards. His name is displayed over your chest like a label of possession, an honest mistake that does you more good than you realise.

The referee's whistle blows in the back, and a yellow card is administered for nudity. But Bunny decides, after taking one long look at your figure engulfed in his large jersey, that it's worth it.

He tests his luck once more, repeatedly pressing his finger against his bare chest, as if conveying a message only you would understand. And to his utter delight, you, weak to his cruelty, are quick on the uptake.

Your ears grow flushed with unbearable heat, but there's no time to revel in your embarrassment, not when the pride of your national team is on line here.

So with trembling fingers, you grab the wrong front of his jersey, pulling it close to your lips as you press a chaste kiss on the fabric bearing his name in bold.

Your eyes are shut close as you send him your indirect affections, utterly humiliated with the sudden turn of events that has you squirm at the mercy of your opponent. The moment you open them, it's no better either. If anything, you come to regret your existence entirely.

Bunny's amused expression enters your vision first, followed by a sickening gesture that has your stomach twist with shame. He holds both hands to his temple, extending his middle and index fingers up while the rest remained down, mimicking the appearance of bunny.

And while the sight of it is barely anything to blink at, with the way his simper grows as he curls his fingers encouragingly, you know better than turn a blind eye to it.

This is just— cruel..!

Fluster glows across your cheeks as you bring your hands over your temple to mirror the awful gesture. It travels across every sensitive nerve, weakening the strength in your knees as your heart stuttered to a flatline.

And just when you think the humiliation ritual has come to an end, laughter greets your ears at once — mirthful and completely entertained at the sight of your torment, one that could only belong to the cruel man that loved to play in your face — shattering whatever blissful delusion you've conjured up in your despair.

Bunny motions with his hands again, bringing one over his face like he'd done the previous other times, a telling movement that had your heart claw at your throat. His fingers lingered above his lips longer than usual, and after a thoughtful pause spent staring you down, Bunny blows you another kiss.

Your brain short circuits, and while your pride wants to resist his love, your arm extends towards him against your will. Hand sprawling out, you made a melodramatic show of catching the air kiss.

Bunny's eyes are wide when they find yours, bright and glittering with elation as he stands there, very clearly awaiting for more. And you give him exactly that. Even if the mortification kills you, you have no choice but to humour him. Who knows what he'll do if you remain stubborn in your refusal.

You heave a shaky sigh, lifting a trembling palm to your face as you press his non-tangible kiss against your lips, finally returning the affection he craved desperately for.

His coach yells something from afar, perhaps telling him to stop messing about and play the last few minutes of the game seriously, but Bunny only waves him off with a crooked grin, too focused on the precious sight of his jersey engulfing you with his name.

"If I exert myself more than I have already…" He can hardly face the man as he comes up with another pathetic excuse, unreasonably enamoured with the way your eyes scrunched shut in fluster after blowing him a kiss of your own.

"I won't have any stamina left to celebrate with my cute cheerleader."

got this idea from dembele-kun scoring on his wife's team and blowing her a kiss, and then i couldn't even mourn france's loss against spain bc i discovered i might have a humiliation kink (only works with bunny tho if ygm) 😂😂😂✌️✌️😔

the volunteer beside you gasped. you gasped. hugo simply picked the ball up and handed it back like this was an average monday for him. 

with each minute that went by, it got worse. one kid climbed onto his shoulders without asking. another decided his face looked "too empty" and started decorating it with washable markers. 

"hmm..." the little boy hummed seriously. "you need a mustache." 

"okay." 

"and whiskers." 

"okay." 

"and sparkles!" 

"... okay." 

you nearly choked on your own laughter. 

"vivi," you called, barely containing yourself, "are you just... letting this happen?" 

he looked over with little pink stars scattered across his cheeks and what appeared to be a baguette drawn on his forehead. 

"they're having fun." 

"... that's your defense?" 

he shrugged. "they're five." 

later, a tiny girl had somehow braided three colorful ribbons into his dark red hair. another had claimed one of his massive hands and was comparing it to hers with the most serious expression imaginable. 

"mine's bigger." 

"no fair!" 

"you'll get there." 

she accepted that answer immediately. 

you watched him patiently tie untied shoelaces because little fingers couldn't quite manage bunny loops yet. he listened with complete seriousness as one boy explained that dinosaurs would've been better at soccer than france's national team. 

when another child burst into tears because her drawing "looked ugly," hugo silently took the crayon from her, drew the world's most crooked little flower beside it, and said, "mine's uglier." she giggled. crisis over. 

your heart did something incredibly embarrassing. this wasn't the hugo everyone else knew. not the man who could play under no pressure in a stadium filled with 80,000 people or the man who answered interviews with one sentence if reporters were lucky. 

here, surrounded by tiny humans using him as jungle gym equipment, he just... existed, in a very unbothered way. 

a little boy tugged your sleeve. "miss?" 

"yeah?" 

"is he always this quiet?" 

you looked at hugo just as another foam ball smacked him square in the face. "um… pretty much." 

"cool." 

"cool?" 

"yeah! he's like a really big capybara." 

you laughed so hard you had to crouch down. that was honestly a fair assessment. 

later, as everyone began cleaning up, hugo finally wandered over to you with marker still all over his face. 

"what?" 

"nothing." 

"you're smiling." 

"am i not allowed to?" 

he narrowed his eyes slightly. "what are you thinking about?” 

you reached up and brushed some glitter off his cheek. "i'm just wondering." 

"about what?" 

you smiled to yourself. "what you'd be like as a dad." 

for the first time all afternoon, the great, unreadable vivian hugo actually paused. then he tilted his head, chuckled softly, and blurted out: "our kids would probably draw on my face, too." 

your mouth parted in surprise before you laughed. "and you'd let them." 

"yeah." another tiny shrug. "it's just marker." 

your heart absolutely betrayed you. that tiny, completely casual answer painted a picture so vivid you could almost see it – little shoes by the front door. crayon drawings on the fridge. a sleepy baby with his hair color asleep on his chest while he watched game film. 

and hugo, sitting there with another ridiculous mustache scribbled across his face… acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

oh, you’re so screwed. 

𝐬𝐚𝐞 ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ‎

ac goes to fz7_13 on X

the park had been peaceful for exactly three minutes. the moment had been ruined when sae noticed the elementary school boys playing soccer. 

you noticed the look on his face. "don't." 

he glanced at you. "don't what?" 

"whatever you're about to do." 

"wow. you're assuming a lot." 

five seconds later, he had ended up standing in the middle of their scrimmage with his hands in his pockets while six sweaty little boys stared up at him with sparkling eyes. 

"are you really sae itoshi?!" 

"yeah." 

"woaaah!" 

"can you watch us play?" 

"... sure." 

you smiled. oh? he's being ni– 

"number seven," sae interrupted after exactly 20 seconds in. 

the tiny boy froze. "m-me?" 

"yeah." 

"what?" 

"you're hiding. you keep standing behind your teammate because you're scared to ask for the ball." 

the little boy's jaw dropped. "i-i'm not scared." 

"you are." 

"... am not." 

sae tilted his head. "then why haven't you touched the ball in the last two minutes?" 

the other kids slowly turned toward number seven. 

"... he's got a point." 

number seven looked like he had just witnessed the collapse of civilization. you buried your face in your hands. oh my god. 

the match resumed. 30 seconds later– 

"blue shirt." 

another child looked up. 

"your first touch is too heavy. the ball isn't trying to escape. so stop kicking it like it owes you money." 

the other boys burst into laughter. 

"HE DOES KICK LIKE THAT!" 

"I TOLD YOU!" 

blue shirt looked absolutely devastated. 

you quietly walked over to sae. "amor." 

"what?" 

"they're like eight." 

"yeah? they'll improve faster if someone tells them." 

"... gently though. don’t you think?" 

he blinked. "i am being gentle." 

you stared at him. he stared back. he genuinely believed that. 

one kid finally puffed his chest out and pointed. "then YOU do it!" 

"okay." 

sae slipped into the game without another word. he didn't sprint or even look particularly interested. he simply took one touch… another… nutmegged one kid so cleanly the poor boy actually turned around looking for the ball… threaded a pass between four tiny defenders… and flicked it perfectly into the makeshift goal. 

"that's how." 

there was complete silence before one little boy whispered with tears in his eyes: "i think i'm retiring..." 

you had to physically turn away so they wouldn't see you laughing, even though your heart did break for them, too. but then… instead of walking off, sae picked the ball back up. "again." 

the kids blinked. "what?" 

"try again." he tossed the ball to number seven. "this time, ask for it." 

the little boy hesitated. "... pass!" louder. "PASS!" the ball came to him. he actually trapped it. his face lit up like he'd just won the world cup. "i did it!" 

"yeah." 

"did you see?!" 

"obviously." 

there it was. so subtle you almost missed it. sae wasn't being mean just to be mean – he only refused to lie to them. if they messed up, he'd tell them. if they improved, he'd make them prove it. it was... strangely effective. 

as the kids happily chased the ball again, you leaned closer. "is this why rin doesn't answer your calls?" 

"mm, probably." 

he said it with such complete indifference that you nearly laughed yourself into the grass. "you're unbelievable." 

"he got better, didn't he?" 

one of the boys suddenly shouted across the field: "MR. SAE! I ASKED FOR THE BALL!" 

sae gave him a single nod. "good." 

the child celebrated like he'd just received a knighthood. 

you watched the scene unfold – the tiny boys running around with renewed determination, your boyfriend standing there with his usual unreadable expression, somehow crushing their egos and rebuilding them in the span of 10 minutes. 

you sighed. "our future son is going to come crying to me after practice, isn't he?" 

without missing a beat, sae answered, "only once." 

"because you'll comfort him?" 

"because he won't make the same mistake twice." 

you now understood at least 80% of the itoshi brothers' childhood. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

ac goes to saya2104

itoshi rin – treating every interviewer like they're interrupting his nap + inspired by this michael olise clip

nobody has ever seen someone care less about media obligations. 

he fulfills them because his contract says he has to. not because he wants to. 

every single clip begins exactly the same way – hood up, sunglasses on, headphones still around his neck, walking like the interviewer isn't even there. 

"rin! just a few words for spain after tonight's victory?" 

"we won." 

"what did you think about their performance?" 

"they lost." 

"any message for the fans?" 

"sleep." 

and he keeps walking. 

another reporter jogs beside him. "how do you feel after scoring the winning goal?" 

"fine." 

"anything else?" 

"no." 

"could you elaborate?" 

"no." 

the poor interviewer looks directly into the camera like he's being held hostage. 

the funniest part is that nobody can tell if rin is intentionally funny or if this is genuinely just how he lives. 

one reporter tries changing tactics by asking, "who inspired your football growing up?" 

"... me." 

"yourself?" 

"yeah." 

"but your older brother is sae itoshi." 

"and?" he keeps walking. 

another viral clip happens because someone desperately sticks a microphone in front of him. "rin! any thoughts before facing germany?" 

he slowly pulls one earbud out. "we're playing germany?" 

"yes." 

he puts the earbud back in and walks away. 

every media outlet eventually starts making bingo cards. ☐ says fewer than five words☐ ignores question entirely ☐ walks away mid-interview ☐ visibly annoyed ☐ sunglasses indoors 

they always get bingo. 

the fans love it because his complete lack of enthusiasm loops back around into comedy. 

people start editing meme audios over clips of him walking past 30 reporters asking questions while he doesn't acknowledge a single living soul. 

the captions always read: “bro has somewhere significantly less important to be.” “he's allergic to microphones.” “media training lost.” “aura farming isn't enough anymore, he's aura harvesting.” 

itoshi sae – football's most desired man... by other men

one day, he was just an insanely talented midfielder (he still is). the next day, every retired football legend, current superstar, celebrity, actor, musician, and suspicious number of grown men were publicly admitting that they thought he was attractive (this is still true). and i mean aggressively. 

post-match interviews become unbearable. 

"sae, incredible performance tonight." 

"thanks." 

"also respectfully, you're very handsome." 

"uh, okay." 

"my wife actually told me to say that." 

"good for her." 

"i'm lying, by the way." 

"i figured." 

another former football legend gets invited onto a sports talk show. 

"who would you most like to play alongside?" 

"sae." 

"why?" 

"... next question." 

twitter immediately responds: brother that's not why 😭😭😭 

every awards ceremony includes one grown man looking at sae like he wants to crack him. 

photographers catch the most insane screenshots imaginable. haaland staring. mbappé staring. random premier league defenders staring. some 70 year old retired manager smiling at him like he's about to ask for his number. 

sae notices approximately none of it. like "why are they looking at me? seriously. did i spill something?" 

every compilation video is titled something ridiculous: men forgetting they're on live television because sae walked by. straightest football interview. footballers trying not to admire sae challenge (impossible). 

then somebody asks him about it during an interview. 

"there's a running joke online that more men flirt with you than women." 

"oh, is there?" 

"you haven't noticed?" 

"no." 

"ronaldo called you beautiful." 

"he was being polite." 

"he winked at you." 

"oh." 

"mbappé called you gorgeous." 

"that's nice." 

"haaland reposted an edit of you." 

"... why?" 

the internet loses it because the only person unaware of his fan club is sae himself. 

nagi seishiro – terrifyingly gifted at literally every game that has ever existed

football stopped being enough. 

one random saturday, someone challenged him to a fighting game. he won. 

someone else challenged him to bowling. he won. 

dance dance revolution. he won. 

air hockey. he won. 

claw machine. he won first try. 

shooting gallery. perfect score. 

the issue isn't that he's competitive. it's that he isn't. like he genuinely could not care less. 

"nagi, have you ever played this before?" 

"no." 

30 seconds later, he's holding first place on the leaderboard and mumbling "that's kinda annoying." 

reo develops a stress twitch because he keeps introducing nagi to activities hoping he'll finally find something he's isn't naturally cracked at. 

"okay, there's absolutely no way you can beat this." 

"hm?" 

"professional drumming simulator." 

"okay." 

15 minutes later, he’s SSS RANK. 

"what." 

"wasn't hard." 

"IT'S LITERALLY CALLED EXTREME NIGHTMARE." 

they visit an arcade. nagi casually wanders over to dance dance revolution. 

"this looks tiring." 

"then don't play." 

"okay." 

and he still gets a full combo. 

another clip goes viral because someone challenges him to laser tag. 

"i've been national champion 3 years in a row." 

"cool." 

10 minutes later, nagi has eliminated everyone. 

"have you… done military training?" 

"no. i play games." 

"THAT DOESN'T EXPLAIN ANYTHING." 

eventually people stop asking whether nagi can do something. instead, they ask how long it'll take him to become unfairly good at it. 

"chess?" 

"probably 20 minutes." 

"curling?" 

"half an hour." 

"competitive knitting?" 

“give him lunch first." 

and nagi never celebrates. he’ll just be like "did i win?" 

"... yes. you did…" 

"oh." then he goes back to scrolling on his phone. 

mikage reo – football's biggest fanboy trapped inside the body of a world-class football superstar

people expect one of the richest and most successful footballers on the planet to act cool around other legends. they couldn’t be more wrong. reo turns into an excited 12 year old every single time. 

"reo, you'll be sitting next to cristiano ronaldo tonight." 

"..." 

"reo?" 

"... don't joke like that." 

"i'm serious." 

"... i have to go to the bathroom." 

he has played against some of the greatest footballers in history. he still gets starstruck. 

every charity match is just reo accidentally forgetting he's supposed to be their equal. 

"mbappé said hi to me. he knows my name. HE KNOWS MY NAME." 

"YOU HAVE ALMOST AS MANY TROPHIES AS HIM." 

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT." 

someone catches him asking messi for a picture. 

"of course." 

"thank you so much." 

"by the way, reo." 

"yeah?" 

"you're literally in the ballon d'or top 3." 

"i know, but that's MESSI." 

don't even get him started on ronaldo. the first time they officially meet, reo spends the entire interaction trying to act normal. 

"it's an honor." 

"thank you." 

"i grew up watching you." 

"i appreciate that." 

"sorry, can we actually take one more picture my mom won't believe me." 

after ronaldo leaves, reo immediately opens the family group chat. 

I MET HIM. LOOK. HE TALKED TO ME. 

his butler responds with approximately 40 celebratory emojis. 

whenever a reporter asks him about football history, tactics, or legendary matches, his eyes light up like someone just activated factory settings. 

"don't even get me started. actually... please do." 

then he's standing in front of the tactics board for 25 uninterrupted minutes explaining why messi's positioning here was genius, why ronaldo's movement there changed the sport forever, why haaland's off-ball runs are terrifying, why mbappé's acceleration makes defenders question their career choices, and somehow tying all of it back to one obscure champions league match from years ago that everyone else forgot existed. 

"reo..." 

"yeah?" 

"we asked what your favorite goal celebration was." 

"oh..." 

football twitter absolutely adores him because underneath the designer suits, private jets, and billionaire aura is just a gigantic football nerd who still gets butterflies meeting the people whose posters used to hang on his bedroom wall, and that's one of the most endearing things about him. 

bachira meguru – genuinely does not understand the concept of personal space and refuses to learn

there are exactly two distances in bachira's mind – touching you and not touching you yet. 

teammates. opponents. referees. reporters. cameramen. security guards. random mascots. nobody is safe. 

post-match interviews are basically a horror game because the interviewer will start speaking to the camera and then, without warning, bachira's head slowly appears over their shoulder like he spawned there. 

"bachira, congratulations on the wi–" 

"hi." 

"hi…” 

"what're we talking about?" 

"the… the match." 

"cool!” he proceeds to NOT leave. instead, he decides they’re sharing the microphone. 

whenever someone interviews another player, bachira just wanders into frame. 

interviewing isagi? bachira's leaning on his shoulder. 

interviewing rin? bachira has wrapped an arm around him despite rin actively trying to walk away. 

interviewing barou? 

"bachira." 

"yeah?" 

"get. off." 

"why?" 

"because you're breathing my air." 

"sharing is caring, king." 

every celebration photo looks the exact same because bachira is hanging off someone like an excited golden retriever. 

piggybacking isagi. leaning against chigiri. hugging reo. resting his head on nagi's arm while nagi doesn't even react anymore. 

one time, the referee was explaining a VAR decision. somehow... bachira ended up next to him. 

"why are you here?" 

"just listening." 

"you're not involved." 

"i know. carry on." 

another viral clip happens because a defender tries intimidating him before kickoff. they're nose-to-nose, glaring, tension everywhere. 

bachira smiles. "your eyelashes are really pretty." 

"huh?" 

"can i touch them?" 

the defender physically reboots like wtf? 

commentators have literally started saying, "bachira appears to have adopted another footballer." 

nobody knows how. nobody knows why. they just accept it. 

the funniest part is that bachira truly thinks everyone else is weird. 

"why do people keep backing away when i talk to them?" 

"because you're 10 centimeters away from their face." 

"ah." 

5 minutes later, he's doing it again. 

shidou ryusei – committing accidental assault every single match

there has never been a footballer whose limbs possess less situational awareness. 

shidou isn't dirty. he's, well… moving. violently. and unpredictably… with enough enthusiasm to become everyone's problem. 

every single match includes at least one replay that begins with, "let's take another look here..." and ends with someone getting kicked in the forehead. 

"I DIDN'T EVEN SEE HIM." 

"YOU JUMPED." 

"SO DID HE." 

"WITH HIS FACE." 

overhead kick? someone's ducking. 

bicycle kick? another casualty. 

volley? pray. 

the commentators have stopped sounding surprised. 

"and shidou has accidentally kicked another player… that's the fourth one today." 

"remarkably, all unintentional." 

one poor defender gets clipped during an acrobatic finish. 

shidou immediately runs over. "YO, YOU GOOD?" 

"..." 

"HELLO???!!!” 

"i can't feel my eyebrows." 

"that's probably temporary.” 

the medic even starts laughing. 

another time, he scores an absolute screamer and celebrates. he turns around too quickly. elbows his own teammate. 

"BRO." 

"MY BAD." 

"YOU BROKE MY NOSE." 

"BUT YOU LOOK COOLER NOW." 

every referee knows him by name. 

"ryusei shidou." 

"yeah?" 

"please." 

"i didn't mean it." 

"i know." 

"he walked into my foot." 

"your foot was over two meters in the air." 

"exactly." 

the internet edits together every accidental collision he's ever caused into one 20 minute compilation titled: shidou ryusei vs the human face. 

but the good part? every victim ends up laughing afterward because he's so aggressively apologetic. 

"SERIOUSLY, MAN, I'LL BUY YOU DINNER." 

"YOU GAVE ME A CONCUSSION." 

"AND DESSERT!!” 

karasu tabito – football's undefeated king of sarcasm

karasu could answer every interview normally. he simply chooses not to. to him, life is more entertaining this way. 

reporters walk into interviews thinking they're asking questions. they leave feeling like they got roasted for free. 

"karasu, were you surprised by today's result?" 

"nuh." 

"you expected to win?" 

"i expected 22 people to chase a ball." 

"... i guess that's one way to put it." 

another reporter asks, "how did you manage to stay so composed under pressure?" 

"years of dealin’ with stupid questions." 

"excuse me?" 

"what? ya asked." 

he says everything with the most casual smile imaginable, making it impossible to tell whether he's joking. 

during one match, an opposing player starts trash talking. 

"YOU'RE NOT EVEN THAT GOOD." 

karasu looks at the scoreboard. looks back. and goes "damn." 

"?" 

"must've imagined the score then." he walks away, leaving the guy gagged. 

another time, someone dramatically falls over trying to draw a foul. 

karasu doesn't even look concerned. he crouches beside them. tilts his head. 

"need an ambulance? or an acting agent?" 

yellow card. worth it. 

the commentators secretly adore him. 

"karasu appears to be exchanging words..." 

"oh! we unfortunately cannot repeat that on television." 

post-match interviews are basically stand-up comedy. 

"any message for your critics?" 

"yeah." 

"go ahead." 

"watch the game next time." 

clips of him answering questions with the driest sarcasm imaginable become football twitter's favorite reaction videos. 

he's accidentally created an entire genre of memes. 

kaiser michael – football's biggest hater that’s also always aware of every camera angle

kaiser has never complimented another footballer without sounding like it physically hurt him. 

"thoughts on today's opponent?" 

"i dunno, they existed." 

"they're one of the best teams in europe." 

“mmm. debatable." 

"their striker scored twice." 

"he was lucky." 

"your teammate had an incredible performance." 

"it was acceptable." 

"could you say something nice?" 

"... his cleats matched, i guess." 

that's the nicest thing anyone gets all season. 

people start making compilations titled: kaiser attempting to compliment people (failed). 

someone asks him about isagi, which you should NEVER do btw. 

"he played like shit." 

"oh?" 

"that's all." 

"no praise?" 

"nein." 

another interviewer tries. "what makes rin so dangerous?" 

"mein gott, he's so damn annoying." 

"because?" 

"he keeps scoring." 

"so... he's good?" 

"i didn't say that." 

"you literally implied it." 

"that was your interpretation." 

meanwhile, his second superpower is genuinely terrifying – he always knows where the camera is. 

nobody understands it. hidden cameras, fan cameras, drones, broadcast cameras, someone's iphone in row 37. he finds them. every. single. time. 

teammates start testing him. 

"there's no camera over there." 

kaiser casually turns 90 degrees and smiles. somewhere in the stadium, a fan screams because he looked directly into their phone lens. 

after scoring, he'll celebrate facing the exact camera that gets the cleanest slow-motion shot. 

photographers swear he's psychic. 

"how did he know?" 

"he blinked at lens 3." 

"WE HADN'T EVEN SWITCHED TO LENS 3 YET." 

the memes write themselves. 

ness alexis – professional yapper, full-time "erm actually 🤓☝️" employee

ness cannot answer a question in under 3 minutes. he just can't. 

ask him what he had for breakfast. congratulations. you're getting the agricultural history of wheat. 

"ness, how did training go today?" 

"well, that's actually a very interesting question because if we're talking specifically about today's session, we first have to establish what constitutes productive training, and statistically speaking–" 

"ness." 

"yeah?" 

"one sentence please." 

"... it was good." 

everyone applauds. 

another reporter asks something simple: "how's the weather?" 

"erm, actually, according to the meteorological forecast, humidity is technically a larger contributing factor than temperature itself–" 

"..." 

"it's sunny." 

teammates have started baiting him on purpose. 

"ness." 

"yeah?" 

"did you know sharks are mammals?" 

"ERM ACTUALLY–” 

they all walk away before he's finished. he's still explaining. 

during halftime someone jokingly says, "gravity feels stronger today." 

"well, technically speaking–” 

"GUYS RUN. HE'S STARTING." they scatter. 

one of his most viral clips happens because a child asks for an autograph. 

"you're my favorite player!" 

"thank you! did you know the word autograph actually comes from the greek roots autos and graphein, meaning 'self' and 'to write,' which is fascinating because–” 

the kid is staring respectfully. "oh… that’s cool." 

"sorry." he signs the shirt. 

another fan comments, i asked him what time it was and somehow learned the history of clocks. 

despite all the yapping, nobody dislikes him because he's so genuinely excited about everything he talks about that it's weirdly endearing. 

he'll interrupt himself to say, "oh! sorry, i'm talking too much again, aren't i?" 

"yes.” 

“... anyway, as i was saying–" 

he's off again for another 5 minutes. 

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.