“You misspelled my name on your phone.”

“Huh?” Dazed, you looked at your phone on the coffee table, the black screen facing the ceiling. 

Sae’s voice was muffled by your hair, lips moving against your temple. “I saw my name in your contact list when you were about to call your mother. It’s not Asae.” 

You blinked, furrowed your brows and, as realization dawned on you, laughed. “Oh, no. I didn’t misspell it, i put an ‘A’ in front of so i can get your number easier.”

“Your name starts with ‘S’. So it’s all the way down in my contact list. Having an A in front of it just makes it easier to reach.” You continued. 

This strikes him for two reasons; 1) he could have been doing that too, instead of having to scroll down the list of contacts to find someone he needed to call (not that he had a lot of people to contact) and 2) does that imply he’s important to you?

The latter should probably be a given, he thinks, considering the fact that you are in a relationship and are both currently a tangle of limbs on the couch in your living room but he was always too scared to assume that he meant something to you. That this was exactly the type of i care about you people spoke about around him. He had always been reluctant to assume that you truly liked him beyond surface level; he was self-aware enough to know he wasn’t an easy person and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t think this was just a fling to you. Something brought on by a whim. He hadn’t ever been sure if you two would grow old together. But the way you spoke of him being someone you needed to reach easier, to the point where you needed to have his contact in the top portion of the list, it was real, right? You thought about him; he meant more to you. He felt himself relax slightly beneath you. Now, maybe, he could think of a future with you, where both of you grew gray hair, face adorned with wrinkles and would bicker about trivial matters yet wake up next to each other every morning nonetheless.

Your name on his phone now has two A’s in front. 

kaiser has always been uncomfortable when other people touched him.

he couldn’t help but feel like that same little kid who always had tears leaking out of his eyes every time his father laid hands on him. he can’t help but feel weak; vulnerable, even. it’s pure reflex for kaiser to slap whoever is touching him away. whether it’s a child, a woman, or a teammate. it’s all the same to him; why are they laying their hands on him?

he shows no ounce of regret when he slaps them away too harshly, when they yelp out in pain. many times, they didn’t mean to touch him. it was just an accident, they would say. well they should have just been more careful; such a stupid accident to occur, in his opinion.

but kaiser had no problem touching someone else as long as it caused some sort of discomfort to the other person.

he couldn’t care less; it made him feel…strong. powerful, even. if he was the one causing harm, then he couldn’t be hurt anymore. he wasn’t the little kid who curled up in the corner and hugging a soccer ball, he was the one making the other person curled up in the corner. and it was satisfying, it really was.

but the same discomfort comes to him whenever he’s touching someone in a way that isn’t harmful. hugs—even the ones his teammates give to him after he scores—make him feel nauseous. only after he goes to the bathroom to place his fingers and palms tightly around his neck does he finally feel better. even when he sleeps, and you accidentally touch him in the middle of his rest, he wakes up instantly, in a ready position to kick you away.

so imagine how stiff you become when kaiser lays his head on your chest, his arms around your waist, silent snores escaping him.

you don’t move in the least, your arms awkwardly at your side, and your palms turning sweaty on the couch. you slow down your breathing nearly instantly. please don’t wake up, please please please please don’t wake up.

—

sunlight cascades down on kaiser’s face as he pushes his eyes open. he yawns, but doesn’t get on. his mattress is too soft, too comfortable to—

wait, his mattress?

his bulging open, kaiser looks up and sees you asleep, a small line of drool leaking down the corner of your mouth and incoherent mumbling escaping your lips. his entire body is atop of yours, hands placed on your back as if it were meant to be placed on your body. strangely, the nausea doesn’t come. only the faint flush on his face and the tip of his ears, and the feeling of someone tugging on his heartstrings.

that someone being you, like you always do.

whether you’re cooking him something when he wakes up, or telling him about how much you love him, his heartstrings always seem to be getting pulled on when you’re around. and his eyes, they never seem to be looking anywhere but you whenever you’re around. how many goals has he silently dedicated to you at a match? how many times has he caught himself subconsciously smiling when you’re around?

and when kaiser feels himself gently brushing your hair away from your face without an ounce of discomfort his eyes fixated on your sleeping face, that’s when he knows.

you’re the one.

sae itoshi was not a nonchalant boyfriend or a chill guy, despite how much he tried to seem like he was. you don’t ask him for his opinion on your outfit? do you not want him (to compliment you and ask you to do a small twirl so he could see the ensemble properly and then pepper your cute face with kisses)? you don’t want him to share his food with you? okay, so basically you’re saying you want him to go to hell.

you tell him to quit liking flirty comments from random people under your posts? what’s wrong with that, he agrees with them— you’re absolutely stunning. and no, he isn’t doing it just so those randoms get a notification that saeitoshi, with a silly picture of you and him with your cheeks smushed together as his profile picture, has liked their comment so that they now know you aren’t single and looking for some sleazy jackass who thinks they can get your undivided attention just by commenting ‘🔥🔥’. seriously, how dare you accuse him of such pettiness?

but really, none of that is compareable to how he feels right now; damp hair sticking to his forehead, towel over his shoulder, one hand buttoning up his loose shirt while he’s looking at his phone, fresh out of the shower after the usual training. his teammates are yapping about something like they always do but it’s all silent in his head as he takes in what feels like utter blasphemy on the screen.

zero notifications.

well, actually, he had a shit ton of texts messages from his teammates and people he considered somewhat his friends but none of them really matter— only you do.

and you hadn’t texted him since yesterday (almost 24 hours ago!), when he was on his way home and asked you if you wanted him to bring you extra snacks or something.

do you hate him?

“Just one more,” you mewl.

“Oh my god.”

Sae has to leave. It’s past the point of him responsibly leaving, to now, where there’s no choice of him having to leave now, if he wants any chance of making it to practice on time.

But you, however, are seemingly far from getting your Itoshi Sae fix, not wanting to be far from him at all: you whimpered and whined when he got up for his run, you snuck into his shower with him, you looped your arms around his waist while he made his lunch, now you’ve got his face gripped in your hands, sponging kisses over him.

At first, sure, he loved the attention.

But Itoshi Sae has to leave. Four minutes ago.

“Hey,” he sighs softly, trying to push your shoulders back to peel you off of him. “You know I have to go. Don’t make this harder for me.”

“You don’t have to go,” you say simply. “You and I can just be hermits forever, hide here for the rest of our lives and cuddle forever.”

Tempting. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

“Don’t you want to stay here forever with me?”

He clicks his tongue, “you know I absolutely would if I could. But,” he makes a move to step away, and you whine and squeeze tighter. “I have to go. Then, when I come home, I’ll be able to tell you all about my day while we lay down. You like that.”

“I know I do, but,” you peer up at him with your lethal pout, “I like you being here more.”

Sae looks at the clock on the stove. Then back at you. Then he sighs and leans down to steal another kiss from you, slotting your lips with his. They move in harmony, eliciting small pants from you, and his hand cradles the back of your head lovingly. You mewl and rest your hands on his hips, letting the few seconds of heaven be savored between you.

When he finally pulls away, you’re smiling dopily, giddily, and Sae knows he hit the nail on the head.

You’d wanted a goodbye kiss. Sae always knows what you want from him, and in the morning, it just so happens to be a firm, loving, assuring goodbye kiss.

“Okay,” you purr, letting your hands roam over his back, compliant and melted in his arms. “You can go now. I’m happy.”

“You’re done with me?” He asks.

“Yeah, until tonight anyways,” you hum, kissing his chin. “Better go before I change my mind.”

He cracks a smirk, “you’re a real piece of work, you know that right?”

“What can I say?” You sigh dramatically. “I know how much you love a challenge.”

You’re right.

He really, really does.

when you're mad and use their full name

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you're mad and use their full name

pairings: isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro and itoshi sae x gn!reader (separate) | warnings: little arguments, angst if u squint, reader is kinda hot headed? lol, mostly fluff and the boys wanting to be in your good graces.

notes: did i kick depression in the ass to finish this? not really. but it worked, and here i am! this is my nagi seishiro debut omgggg hopefully i did him justice and he's not too ooc. also new design for the scenarios to match my theme. enjoy, lovelies! let me know if you'd like especific scenarios and send me an ask :)

masterlist

ISAGI YOICHI

yoichi hoped he would die. 

really. 

it’s the least he deserved for making you angry — even more so because he didn’t know what made you angry in the first place. he spent the last fifteen minutes excavating his mind to try and remember what could have ticked you off so much that you don’t even wanna look at him.

he hates it. isagi needs your eyes on him, needs to hear your voice and touch your skin. and with the way you’re so silent and distant, he might be just like a man in the desert without water.

“baby,” he looked at you on the other end of the couch, intently watching the tv show in front of you.  just a glimpse would make him breathe again. just a nod would ease his nerves. hell, he would even take a glare, as long as you were looking at him.

but he got nothing. zero. nada.

cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

tags: established relationship, fluff

a/n: saw the fem sae leak and immediately wrote this in half an hour

------------------------------------------------------------

“i think you would be pretty as a girl,” you murmur. 

sae itoshi’s eyes snap open, glaring up at you from where his head lays on your lap. “repeat that?” his tone is cold.

you meet his gaze, cocking your head innocently. “i think you would be pretty as a girl. with your bangs down, a little mascara on those lashes,” you hum, considerate. “probably a glittery lip gloss.”

he scoffs. “and you'd be fucking ugly as a guy.”

your jaw drops. “what the hell?” you slap his shoulder, wriggling. sae stays put. “get off of me. no way you just called me ugly.”

his only tenses his body further. “as a guy. clear difference.”

you halfheartedly push him again, somewhat offended still. “i think i would be hot as a guy, actually. all the girls would love me. but i would only come home to you, sae-chan,” you lilt the last words, laughter clear in your tone.

sae smoothly rolls off of you, disgust roiling off of him in waves. “you sound like sendou,” he mutters, standing. 

you blink up at him. “i sound- what? is sendou calling you sae-chan? do i have another striker to worry about? are you giving your number to this one too?”

“boys will be boys”

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when isagi yoichi was still just a little boy, he always held your hand when you were scared, and helped wipe the dirt and grime off of your knees when you tripped.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when bachira meguru was still just a little boy, he always defended you from bullies--even if they hurt him instead--, and always told you it didn't hurt even when it did.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when chigiri hyoma was still just a little boy, he never argued with you or complained and even allowed you to touch and play with his hair if you asked him politely.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when kunigami rensuke was still just a little boy, he always held your stuff, whether it's your backpack or thick library books, without complaint and with a smile.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when barou shouei was still just a little boy, he helped you cleanwhen it was your day for classroom cleaning duty, and always helped organize your extremely messy desk.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when mikage reo was still just a little boy, he always bought you whatever you wanted, and let you have whatever expensive item of his you wanted as long as you liked it.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when nagi seishiro was still just a little boy, he let you play on his video game consoles, and he never got mad at you even if you dropped it and cracked it.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when itoshi rin was still just a little boy, he always bought you his favorite lottery ice cream on every occasion. whether you passed your test, your failed your test, you get an ice cream.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when michael kaiser was still just a little boy, he always pushed you on the swings at the park and listened to you rant, even if he just recieved an exhaustive beating from his father and couldn't even talk.

“boys will be boys”, which isn't true at all, because when alexis ness was still just a little boy, he always visited you when you were sick and told you about magic and his favorite folklore and fantasy stories to cheer you up.

so did i ever tell you guys how much i fw blue lock boys and the childhood best friend trope??? well, a lot.

“how long was the bet supposed to last?”

rin freezes.

your voice is calm. too calm. the kind of calm that feels unnatural, like the quiet before a storm. but there’s no storm in your face—no anger, no hurt, nothing at all. just an empty, unreadable expression that makes his stomach churn.

“who told you?” his voice comes out rough, forced.

you shrug, like it doesn’t even matter. like he doesn’t even matter. “does it make a difference?”

it doesn’t. he knows that. he also knows that this is bad. really bad.

“was it a week? a month?” you tilt your head slightly, staring him down. “or were you just gonna keep going until you got bored?”

his jaw tightens. “it wasn’t like that.”

“really?” you let out a breathy laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “because from where i’m standing, it kinda seems like it was.”

rin clenches his fists, frustration curling in his chest. frustration at himself, at shidou, at the whole stupid situation that never should’ve happened in the first place.

“you weren’t a joke to me,” he says, voice low.

“that’s funny,” you murmur. “because i kinda feel like one.”

he wants to fix this. to reach out, to grab your wrist, to tell you the truth—how the bet stopped meaning anything the second he got to know you, how he tried to find the right moment to come clean but was too much of a coward to risk losing you.

but he waits too long.

“say something, rin,” you say quietly. “anything.”

he opens his mouth. closes it. because nothing he says right now will be enough.

so you nod, like you expected this, like you already knew how this would end.

“got it.”

and then you walk away.

rin lets you. because what else can he do?

—

the next day, your favorite drink is waiting on your desk.

you don’t touch it.

the day after, rin is standing by your locker, holding out your books.

“you don’t have to do this,” you mutter, not even looking at him.

“i know.” but he still shoves them into your arms before walking away.

the day after that, he shows up at practice late because he spent an hour in line getting that stupid pastry you like.

“you think buying me stuff is gonna fix this?” you ask, raising a brow.

“no.” he stares at the bag in your hands. “but i know you like them, so just take it.”

you sigh, but you don’t give it back.

on friday, he carries your bag before you can complain, waits for you after school even though you ignore him the whole walk home, and when you finally snap and ask what the hell he’s doing, he just says, “making it up to you.”

saturday morning, you open your door to find him standing there, hair messy, dark circles under his eyes, holding a stupidly large bag of snacks.

“seriously?” you cross your arms. “you’re still on this?”

“yeah.”

“why?”

he exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “because i’m not giving up on you.”

you blink, caught off guard by how sure he sounds. how raw he looks.

he looks tired. frustrated. desperate.

like this actually means something to him. like you actually mean something to him.

you chew on your lip, eyes flicking between him and the bag in his hands.

“…you got my favorites?”

“obviously.”

“did you get the right drink this time?”

he exhales, shoving it into your hands. “yes.”

you stare at it for a moment. then sigh, stepping aside.

“fine. come in before you start looking even more pathetic.”

rin doesn’t need to be told twice. he steps inside, and for the first time all week, his chest feels a little lighter.

he still has a long way to go, he knows that. but if you’re letting him in, even just a little, then maybe, just maybe, he still has a chance to prove that this was never just a bet to him.

pre-relationship! sae who saw you sitting on the curb, looking exhausted with your bag open. thinking you were asking for money, he dropped some bills in. you gave him a confused look, but he just shrugged and walked off.

pre-relationship! rin who always trailed two steps behind you at school, looking like he was on a secret mission to protect you from absolutely nothing. one time, someone tried to ask you a question, and rin stepped forward, cleared his throat, and said, “she’s busy.” you weren’t even talking to anyone.

pre-relationship! bachira who kept seeing you on his couch, thinking you were just another one of his imagination’s weird visitors. he’d wave at you, go about his day—until you started stealing his snacks. that’s when he realized you were real, and his mom was tutoring you in art.

pre-relationship! barou had this odd habit of pulling out a handkerchief whenever you sniffled from the cold, pressing it to your nose and saying, “blow.” the first time you were weirded out, but after a while, you just gave up and let him do it.

pre-relationship! nagi who would always destroy you in games, not knowing it was you he was playing against. the next day, he’d sit next to you in class, completely unaware that a few hours ago he was trash-talking you, and you were doing the same back. you’d share a look, but neither of you would say a word.

pre-relationship! isagi who tried so hard to act cool around you, but his ears always betrayed him, going red every time you acknowledged him. one day, in a nervous attempt to be smooth, he accidentally called you “your majesty.” after a beat of awkward silence, he just casually walked away like nothing happened—pretending he didn’t just say that.

four seasons

aventurine x stoneheart!reader

word count : 6.8K (what is happening to me???)

warning(s) : angst, hurt/comfort, a sprinkle of fluff, canon details may be inaccurate aka i make up some stuff, mentions of aventurine's past (murder, trauma, death of family members, etc.), brief mention of suicidal ideation (but he doesn't actually want to die), aventurine's nihilism/pessimism, less romantic than i thought it would be, more of a character exploration than anything, inconsistent writing/formatting, misunderstood aventurine, argenti cameo!!

a/n : at the bottom!

“He’s supposed to go on trial? For what?” you asked Jade. “Murder,” she replied, lowering herself onto the velvet chair. “And you’re recruiting him?” you asked in disbelief. “He’s blessed by Gaiathra Triclops, it’ll make him a very valuable asset to us,” she explained. You couldn’t argue with that.

As if on cue, the wooden doors opened, and a young boy stepped in. Despite his small, frail figure, he radiated determination and confidence from across the room. “Welcome, Kakavasha,” Jade spoke as he strode to the podium where she sat, standing directly under the spotlight.

From the moment he entered, you were, to say the least, intrigued by his unique appearance. He had pale skin, and shaggy golden locks with even shaggier clothes. But what really caught your attention were his eyes. They were bright purple, with black irises outlined by a striking blue. He held a fierce gaze , as if he knew he would win before the game even started. There was no questioning why Jade wanted to recruit him. You tuned back into the conversation, just in time to hear Jade raise the question :

“Tell me, what are you prepared to wager?”

His answer struck something inside you.

“My life.”

Thinking about hand-kisses, actually.

Aventurine would like to believe he's flighty enough to not make it obvious, which he is to an interesting degree — that the pulse at the juncture of your wrist soothes his soul. To him, nothing else is more intimate. For, through this, he cherishes the very symbol of your existence. By acknowledging that rhythm, he's blessed.

Sunday's lips always linger when he kisses your hand. His fingers flex in uncertainty, strength waning and waxing before the struggle — to grasp or, to cherish? To hold, or constrict? Alas, the anticipation of decorum always leaves these questions to perpetual vacillation.

Dr Ratio inclines to kiss the crater of your palm, burrowing as deep as the lines would allow. He huffs as if its an inconvenience — perhaps, bearing the weight of such adoration is an inconvenience, even for a brilliant scholar. You wouldn't know though, that his apparent fixation with your palm is but an excuse to hide the blood that rushes to his cheeks whenever he concedes before your altar.

Mr Reca always makes a show out of it. A kiss to your pinky, another barely touching the tip of your fingernail, a teasing whisper over your knuckles. Close, but never enough. Just when you're drunk and sunk in his ploys, will he strike.

Mydei leans towards your hand just the same, but the expected kiss is always replaced with a nip, or a bite to your wrist or finger. The dumbfounded blinks, flustered fluttering of your lashes and indignant protests are far too delightful to not exploit.

Phainon, ever so graceful, is a mess in the palms of your hands. His lips cannot settle for one spot, he must kiss every fingertip, every knuckle, every phantom of a vein and every crease that marks your being. It's a waste holding back, his salvation is in embracing the fall.

Anaxa who bows before none, always kneels first before kissing your hand. It does not matter when or where, he will always lower himself to one knee and peer up at your radiance. His prayers are never verbal, but his gaze is parched enough to appeal to your heart and grant him his solace every time. But, would you still remain so merciful, if you knew the unrelenting pace of his greed?

As far as carrying you is concerned, Phainon is an all-rounder. He can do the princess carry, the piggyback, the ‘throwing over the shoulder like a sack of rice’, the parcel-carry and whatever other forms of this practice are there. But, his favorite has to be making you sit on his left shoulder and holding you still with the adjacent hand. So that his right hand can be free in case of him needing to use his weapon. You get a nice seat and good view of your surroundings and he gets to hold you while having a route for emergencies. Win-win in his book.

Mydei prefers hauling you up on his right shoulder and picking a brisk pace to... wherever you're going. He reasons that it's faster and more efficient — especially if you happen to be in a situation that involves running. If you voice out the discomfort factor of this a few times though, he'll switch to keeping you balanced on his right arm, a one-hand carry basically. As it happens, his left side doesn't attain many comfort-points due to his armory and he isn't ignorant to that. However way he carries you, he'll prioritize swiftness, efficiency and your comfort.

You carry Anaxa. I mean, can he... carry himself? Granted, the scholar doesn't look the part and in his current state, probably doesn't have much stamina to carry around another person. However, I'd like to believe he's much physically stronger than he looks like — observing the way he handles his gun. He prefers cradling you, so that you won't fall face-first into the ground, like a stack of books almost. So, the closest candidate is a princess carry. But is definitely a bit awkward as he isn't used to it.