#I wonder if he’s ever had trouble in Japan because of them

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

me trying to see what Roger’s tattoos are, like

[saerins]

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.5k | content: fluff, pining, mentions of fake dating, jealousy, reader is kind of an idiot, sae loves to tease, best friend otoya, cussing

notes: hello hello i’m on board the sae love train once more , are you guys still with me ^_^

summary: what do you do when your best friend kind of sort of forces you to confess your two-year long crush when you’re not ready to? pray and hope for the best.

“i could just tell him for you.”

“eita, fuck no,” you throw him a warning glare as you chop the vegetables up with scary precision despite not having an eye on them. only because you know if you don’t explicitly tell him not to, that he’d think it’s no big deal and do it anyway.

and let’s say, you’d rather die than let that happen.

sure, you and sae had been closer back in high school; he sat behind you and entertained the secret notes you passed to him, he used to ruffle the top of your head whenever you pouted, he used to buy food for you during breaks.

but that’s all in the past and somehow, the both of you had drifted since then.

otoya deadpans, an unamused pair of eyes looking back at you from their spot across the island. “it’s been what, four fucking years since you graduated? grow a pair,” he retorts, attempting to steal a carrot but getting a slap on the back of his hand instead.

“bold of you to say that to a girl with a knife,” you snap at him, pointing the blade at his face.

to which he merely rolls his eyes, using two fingers to push it aside. “not like you’re that good at using it.” but he sighs when you silently turn your attention back to chopping vegetables. “does that mean i have to put up with your miserable face even longer?”

you and otoya continue to bicker, and you’re beginning to wonder how you’ve tolerated being best friends with him for the past four years. he’s a real piece of work.

“fine, fine,” otoya grumbles after you’re done with lunch, bangs over his eyes. “i promise i won’t tell sae anything, okay?”

that’s after you threatened not to let him hijack your house anymore for food. for someone who’s earning big bucks being a famous soccer player, you can’t make sense of why he won’t just get food delivered. maybe he just likes to annoy you.

“good. or else i’ll kill you.”

your crush on itoshi sae has been somewhat dormant for the past few years. and by dormant you mean that you haven’t tried making any moves because you’re too scared.

itoshi sae. one of the most famous international breakout stars in soccer. one of the most talented playmakers the world has ever seen. that comes with its own sets of pros and cons.

pros? he definitely doesn’t seem like he has much trouble doing anything he wants. he gets paid for every game. he gets paid for gigs. he gets sponsorships all over the place. which basically means that financially, he doesn’t need to give a shit.

cons? the media can be brutal. sae does something that’s remotely questionable and they’re all over it. he doesn’t thank a waiter that one time? automatically labeled as a rude brat by the paparazzi. and not to mention—the amount of girls he’s forced to fake date just for the sake of publicity.

you’re mostly pressed on that last part though, because they’re all supermodels or olympic stars or rich socialites. and compared to them, well, you’re just someone who happens to be in the same friend group and hang out together every once in a while when he’s back in japan. sae doesn’t even hang out much with the group, to your dismay.

it’s a pain, or so he says.

you wonder how you drifted in the first place. maybe it’s just the fame. you wonder if he thinks of you too sometimes.

must be your wishful thinking.

kind of makes you wonder whether he does have a secret girlfriend that he’s keeping from everyone. you wouldn’t really put it past him. it’s not like he has any super deep emotional bonds with any of you (that you know of). eita says he’s definitely single, but you think he’s just saying that to appease you. he already has his hands full having to watch you mope whenever you see news of sae and another girl and yet another dating rumor.

just as well. you think sae could do better than you, spending your friday nights at home, washing dishes at the sink and looking out at the tokyo skyline instead of out partying and living life with countless friends.

you don’t think you’re too shabby though. you’re a fresh graduate with a job at one of the most prestigious companies in tokyo you can think of. it’s not bad. but you can’t help but feel it’s worlds away from the one sae lives in.

the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts, nearly dropping the white marble plate you’re washing. your eyes snap to the clock in the living room. it’s almost 9pm—right about the time when eita usually comes knocking and asking you for supper.

groaning, you wash whatever’s left of the dish soap away from your hands and sloppily dry them against the bottom of your shirt, grumbling out loud about how you really should stop coming here whenever the fuck you want, eita while you stomp over to the front door.

you open the door, messy hair and bare face and baggy clothes, fully expecting to smack some sense into otoya eita when you feel yourself freeze up at the pair of eyes looking back at you.

they’re teal and framed by pretty long lashes and definitely don’t belong to your best friend.

what the fuck is he doing here?

this is one of the rare times that you’d actually prefer to see eita at your front door instead.

sae raises a brow, giving you a once-over. of course, he’s never seen you in this state—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, not a trace of makeup on your face. you’d made sure that whenever there was a possibility that sae would see you that you dressed yourself up as nice as possible. if you’d known he was coming over, you’d have at least dressed decently. definitely not baggy shirt and pants that you can barely see.

“uh… w-what are you doing here?” stupid, but the best you can manage.

he has his hands in his gray sweat pockets, and fuck him for wearing a black compression top. you can just make out the outline of his abs under there, the muscles on his arms already much too obvious with those short sleeves.

“dunno, eita said there was an emergency and i needed to get here,” sae says, wholly unbothered, monotonous as usual. he lets himself in, toeing his shoes off at the entryway, positioning them neatly beside your everyday sneakers.

fucking eita.

judging by what you know, sae was probably on his way for an evening jog when otoya called him. he still has his wireless earbuds in. you wonder if anything’s even playing.

sae takes it off once he catches you staring.

he’s not carrying anything. it’s just him. you wonder if anyone managed to catch him coming over. is his most recent pr stunt already over? won’t do either of you any good if he’s labeled as a cheater.

“so? what is it?” sae asks you, again, while he walks himself inside, curious eyes looking around your apartment, and suddenly you’re hyper aware. you hope to god you didn’t leave any of your inner wear lying around at random places.

in a panic, you rush over to him, blocking his path inside, both hands on his chest as you attempt to push him back to the front door. unfortunately for you, sae’s much stronger than you are, his body not budging an inch.

“it’s nothing, he made a mistake,” you sigh, giving up when you figure that sae’s only going to move of his own accord. “he’s probably just playing a prank on you, that’s all.”

you’re hoping, praying, wishing that sae will just take your word for it and go. because that’s what he does; he doesn’t hover much, doesn’t care about anything much at all. you don’t even know the last time he’s asked about how any of your lives are doing.

the world must hate you though, because sae only offers a grunt in response before looking towards your kitchen (you’re internally sighing in relief, glad that you cleaned your kitchen up before this). “i’m thirsty, you have anything to drink?”

you blink at him, stumped that sae is wasting his precious time in your apartment, but who are you to say no to sae, of all people?

“yeah, sure, juice?”

sae shrugs, “whatever.”

you turn your back on him, slowly taking your carton of apple juice and finding the nicest glass that exists in your cupboard, cursing yourself internally for not preparing for unexpected guests enough. you do this slowly partly because you’re trying to calm your stupid heart down, still not fathoming why on earth sae’s wasting his time with you.

carefully, you rehearse yourself in your head, where you’re going to step, how you’re going to walk over to him—you really are just hopeless. count it your bad luck that the moment you turn around, you nearly drop the glass because you’re forgetting a really fundamental issue here: your merch.

“no no no, uh—” you leave the glass on the countertop, scurrying over to where sae’s staring and thumbing at something on your coffee table.

sae looks at your flustered reaction, giving you way to grab your things off the table and stuff them in the drawer where they’re out of sight. he blinks at you, a slight amusement bubbling inside him.

“wow, big fan, huh?”

you don’t know what’s worse: you being your most unpresentable self right now or that sae just caught you having some of his merch.

“so you have some of eita’s merch lying around too or is it just mine?”

you could die of embarrassment right now.

back still turned to sae, you desperately search your brain for answers. thinking on the spot doesn’t seem like your strong suit right now.

“it… was a gift.” believable, right?

sae hums, as though he’s contemplating. “why just mine then? why not oliver’s or my brother’s?”

fuck.

“i don’t know, maybe yours was the only one that wasn’t sold out.”

“ouch.”

you didn’t mean to indirectly insult him but what’s a drowning girl to do?

sae sighs when you keep quiet, still staying out where you are, trembling too much to move. “didn’t know you were in love with me.”

this time, you whip your head around to face him—that same stoic expression of his unchanging on his face. “am not!”

his brows shoot up. “but you bought some of my merch.”

“i told you, it was a gift.”

you need to get paid for still standing up on your own two feet right now. your head’s way too giddy from the interaction, considering.

“even that figurine over there?” sae’s finger points to a small toy just barely visible behind the nooks of the bookshelf. it’s a small figurine; something sold a few years back when sae was just first starting out. you’d bought it because, well, you’d thought chibi sae looked cuter than actual sae. (especially now when he’s just staring blankly at you.)

“that was…”

“a gift?”

you think he’s making fun of you now at this point.

“anyway, we’ve established that there’s no emergency here so why don’t you just go?” you’re pretty sure sae won’t ever talk to you again—not after coming across what he did tonight. he probably thinks you’re a freak, probably questions why he even considers you his friend (to which you’re now wondering if that’s even true at all).

you make a mental reminder to yourself to kill otoya eita tomorrow.

sae lets you push him towards the entryway, apple juice long forgotten on the countertop, collecting condensation with water pooling below the glass.

“you must like me a lot, huh?” he ponders out loud as you continue pushing him towards the door. you see a hint of cockiness in his stare now, the slightest tug of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

“i do n—”

“be careful what you say,” sae cuts you off, toeing his shoes back on, looking glamorous as ever and you nearly forget that he looks straight out of a magazine even in his sportswear. “‘cause i’ll believe you.”

part of you wants him to just go already so your knees can buckle under, but part of you wants to ask him what he means. what’s he insinuating? isn’t the answer clear enough.

but now it’s way past nine and he’s all ready to go yet he’s still standing at your doorway, waiting for your answer. you want to scream no, you want to keep your secret safe, you don’t want him to know about the crush you’d been harbouring. but he told you to be careful what you say because he’ll believe you.

“s-so what if i do?” you stutter, failing to look him in the eyes, your stare focused on the air in between you.

sae’s features soften ever so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to give in so quickly, but it isn’t one of disgust. it’s more like one of pleasant surprise.

after what seems like an eternity, sae finally opens his mouth.

“you must’ve gotten jealous a lot with all those girls i’d gone out with.”

your fist instinctively connect with his arm, his stoic finally giving way to a grimace, palm rubbing his triceps in pain. out of all the things to say, he chooses to say that? you think he deserves it.

“you know what, sae? you can go back to your fake girlfriends, i could care less,” you snap at him, pouting. you hate that despite how ignorant his words are that you can’t find it in yourself to hate him.

sae exhales sharply, chuckling softly when he sees your pout, and you feel as though it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this even though it’s not. his hand comes up to ruffle the top of your head gently, and you’re reminded of when he did this to you back in high school.

“can’t do that, can i?” he tells you, that soft disposition gone and the stoic mischief coming right back. “not when i’m in front of who could be my real girlfriend.”

your heart might’ve forgotten how to beat.

sae leaves you standing there, left to your own devices as he exits your apartment, fully aware of his effect on you.

not long after he leaves (while you’re still standing in the doorway), your phone buzzes in your pocket. you fish it out and see his name there for the first time in a long time.

you smile to yourself as you read his message. okay, so maybe you’ll spare eita’s life for now.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Touya Drabble

Sometimes I can't help but wonder how things would be for Dabi if he had stayed Touya. If his father had been to Sekoto Peak. If the course of life had gone on.

Touya would still grow to resent and hate his father as both a parental figure and a hero. It would never reach the level of pure hatred he has for Endeavour as Dabi, but the feeling of being thrown aside in Shouto's favour, of being nothing more than a failed designer baby, that, would always remain. He’s always had trouble controlling his emotions, because no one ever showed him how to. How long until he would run away from that house and all it represents? Fifteen, sixteen years old? Touya would still see his siblings and his mother, sometimes, but never his father. Never again. He would make him regret losing interest in him like a worthless toy. He'd become the greatest goddamn hero in Japan just to spite his father, and crush his pathetic dreams of being number one.

As a hero, Touya would be a lone wolf, refusing to work for an agency or any group that would try to use and publicize his title as Endeavor's son. He would fully shed away the last name “Todoroki”, because being part of that family's legacy had never brought him anything other than pain. Some would call him a vigilante more than a hero, but he has never really been one to care about labels, either way. If he would go by an alias, I'd like to think it would be something like Phoenix, a symbolic rebirth from the ashes of a past he's left behind (and a perfectly melodramatic name for his theatrical ass).

Touya would still have scars; although his body would never burn to the extent of Sekoto Peak, he would get heavy marks and scars from overusing his quirk, mostly around his arms and chest. At first, he hides them when he's out, not wanting to prove his parents were right about him slowly killing himself. It would be a cold day in hell before he admitted his father was right about anything. Then, tattoos and piercings start making their way into his life, and it becomes less and less about hiding the scars, and more and more about making them a part of his body. Dark swirls of ink would become indistinguishable from charred and marred skin, and he would show them of proudly. His skin would be a reminder of his determination, his drive to keep going despite being told he was weak. Nothing could bring the fire in him down.

It would take him time to forgive the rest of his family for not standing by him when he ran away. Natsuo and Fuyumi are the easiest, because Natsuo shares part of his anger towards their father, and he grows a begrudging respect for how Fuyumi tries to hold everything (and everyone) together. It takes him until he's eighteen to start accepting maybe his mother was a victim, too. Maybe her complacency with their broken household had less to do with cowardice, and more with wanting to protect her children. He'll bring her flowers at the hospital, from time to time, but he never apologizes for the words he might have yelled at her before. Apologies were never really his thing.

It takes Touya the longest to forgive Shouto. Deep down, he's known for a long time it isn't the youngest's fault. But it's hard not to feel anger at how easily he follows their father's plans, how stoic and seemingly devoid of any real identity he is. A puppet. It's only when Shouto joins UA that Touya starts seeing the fire of passion burn in his brother's eyes. Real emotions, trapped underneath the icy surface of the perfect child who had so efficiently replaced him. A bratty teen who bottled up his feelings until he exploded, finally letting others see how he felt all those years. His brother.

In many ways, Touya wouldn't have been very different from Dabi. He would still be angry, and hurt, and desperately in need for his father to notice him, one way or the other. But in many other ways, he would have been so different. He would have been a hero on his own terms. He would have been able to grow as a teenager rather than be trusted into adulthood with no landmarks or experience. He would not forget, but he would forgive.

But Touya died a long time ago, and these are just thoughts I get at night.

[sanzu-sanzu-sanzu]

Hungry Hearts 6

Itoshi Sae X F!Reader

You are Itoshi Sae’s Manager. Fielder of dumb reporter questions and keeper of his schedule. Among many others.

Timeskip. Sae is 24 and is officially a representative of Japan.

slowburn + idiots in love + romance + friendship/gen

MASTERLIST

<< prev

Chapter 6: Real Talk

Sae keeps his head settled back against the couch, lifting his phone screen, once again, to his eyes. 09:59 PM, it says, and zero new messages. Not that he’s been expecting anything of the sort, in fact, he’s the one who’s left you on read for about twenty minutes now.

He hovers a thumb over your message before clicking it open for the third time since.

> i know it’s late, and you’ll probably see this in the morning, but thank you again for the tickets. my friend says thank you too, though she watches tomorrow. (9:35 PM)

A message you’ve sent in quiet mode expecting he’d be asleep by now, because you know, of course, that he’ll have an early start in the morning. Not a white lie this time.

> it was a wonderful performance. (9:37 PM)

The sudden beeping noise of the tabletop clock awakens him anew, and when it does, he finally pushes himself off the chair, his awareness re-emerging with that same, steady sense of certainty, a clarity that resonates with the dull current he feels under his skin, the tingling at the tips of his fingers.

How unamusing this helpless sensation is, how discomforting the feel of all this empty space all of a sudden—

He wants to see you.

—how pleasant.

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About an hour ago, there was a different woman seated at the other end of this couch. A friend, an acquaintance who happened to be in town. A nice dinner, she’d said, for old time’s sake? And if Sae had said yes, it was out of the implicit agreement that it was not going to be anything more.

What they had, before then, were the occasional hook-ups. A couple of times; it’s not important, you wouldn’t have known because they were never in his calendar. Besides, it had been way before he’d met you. What mattered was that neither had felt the need to ask too many questions and there was no making a big deal out of who he was and what they had going on. It was convenient and it was fleeting, and the both of them got what they signed up for to get.

It had been over a year since they’d last seen each other like this. There’d been a dinner, too, much like tonight, but unlike tonight, there was no coming back to his place because he’d lied that he needed to be up early the next day or else his manager was gonna kill him. Tonight, she’d asked this time, will the manager be around to scold him if he got in any trouble? A question that was said with a twinkle in her eye he imagined saw more than she was letting on. A question he’d let hang, he had let stick in his mind even as the conversation had dulled into something more pleasant—the same stories that were safe to share, safe to explore, safe to navigate.

Even, and especially, when his mind kept telling him maybe he’d messed up somewhere because, at every turn, he’d find you—in the quiet lull of the classic Yoko Kanno blues that permeated the restaurant air; in the soft chimes of laughter from someone at the next table; in the passenger seat of the woman’s car, sleek and cramped and not made for him. There was, in every space that was occupied and every doorway he crossed, the ever-present reminder that you were somewhere else and not here.

It’s becoming pathetic.

It’s a Saturday, she’d pointed out, at one point, when the matter of the unusual volume of traffic was brought up. It’s a Saturday night and everyone’s out with there friends—or out at their friend’s—just like she and him.

Yeah, but there’s that Tokyo Ballet event, too. Right around Meguro, that’s why, Sae supplied from his kitchen as he poured them both a drink.

Oh, is there? Didn’t realize you’re into ballet now.

Not at all. But my manager is, he said before he caught himself. That’s where she’s at right now.

Her champagne was handed without meeting each other’s gazes, good enough segue towards a stretch of light conversation that no longer mentioned you.

“You good, Sae?” None of the few women he’d ever slept with had to bother with courtesy, and yet he still blinked, as if roused from a light stupor, upon the sound of his name. Too personal and too familiar; an intimacy that felt misplaced, despite the casualness of the hour, despite the lack of inhibition in bare feet folded up on the couch.

Sae looked up to her rose-lacquered smile, an all-seeing pair of eyes. Eyes that, despite how opaque, held understanding and friendship.

“Good.” He did something between a sigh and a grunt, stretching an arm over the back of the couch as his gaze landed on the clock on the side table. “Didn’t realize how late it’s gotten.”

She held his eyes for only a moment, fully understanding what that meant. What it entailed for the both of them. “Indeed,” she murmured, carefully placing her champagne glass on the center table, as carefully as she stretched the moment out in forming her words. “I do need to get home, too, though. Early trip tomorrow.”

But Sae didn’t mind. If this was the end of something, the both of them could take their time.

“Let me drive you.”

“There’s no need,” she smiled at the offer, getting up. “I’d like a long drive myself. And besides, I barely drank.”

It was at right by his doorstep wherein she finally turned to ask, and before she’d even opened her mouth, Sae somehow knew what it was going to be about.

“Can I take a guess who she is?”

“Guess who?”

“I hope you don’t actually play me for a fool, Itoshi Sae,” she leveled him with a coy stare. “You never had that look when we were ever together, you know that?”

Maybe it’s the bit of alcohol, maybe it’s the light prodding at the remotest idea of you, but something in him felt like protecting this part of him. “No idea what you’re trying to say.”

She barked out a laugh, folding her arms as she rested a shoulder against the doorframe, temporarily halting her exit. “You know, and I’ve told you this before, you may be a genius but you’re the dumbest in at least one of these two things: outright lying or handling your feelings.”

“Have you?”

“If not both.”

To that, Sae offered no real response; he simply closes his eyes, tilting his head away, seemingly conceding this one. Not as much as she might like, but conceding, nonetheless. “Don’t have much use for either on the field.”

One could only roll their eyes at Sae’s stubbornness. But, then again, if this were the end of something, should he be able to get away so easily? “So, may I? I think I might have a good idea on who she is.”

“I think you’ve had more than a bit of a drink. You sure you could get yourself home just fine?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll shut up. You don’t need me to tell you anyway.”

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“What look?” He did, however, stop her just before the door completely closed between them.

“I don’t know.” She had to laugh at the suspicious, attentive look his expression morphs into. But then maybe that’s also part of his charm: chronically indifferent to the world and everyone else, except for the things he truly, strongly cared for—football; his brother; a girl he suddenly didn’t know what to do with because if there was one thing Sae knew what to do best, it’s to win.

“I don’t know, Itoshi, but something tells me that you already know that this isn’t a game you get to play, that she isn’t a prize you get to win.”

Maybe this was the part of Sae she chose to speak to, in the end.

“Make of that what you will. You don’t get that look in your eyes for someone so often.”

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He stares back at his own gaze on the dark glass window, illuminated by the sparkle of city lights, alive and noiseless from this side of the glass. He wonders if you’d still reply back after how long.

> Great to know. (Sent)

He waits a minute, and then two, before his fingers are typing again.

> You ate yet? (Sent)

Your reply comes sooner than he might’ve expected.

> hahahaha

He blinks at his phone screen once because even though you’re not above jokes and offbeat banter in person, your written communication, however, has always been very dry. As dry and as utilitarian as his, which works just fine, but which could also very well be the reason for your near-insistence, whenever allowed, on voice and/or cam-on calls. A principle that was easy to grasp right from the start, but, he feels, is just now only being further unravelled in his mind, a truth that is being magnified as if for the first time—all from a single line of ‘hahahaha.’

How mundane, how illuminating, the way Sae can already picture you shaking your head at his constant pestering—has it gotten so constant now?—to never forget to eat, prompting him to roll his eyes.

It’s easy to forget that that’s another person at the other end of the line, he remembers overhearing your words to a sponsor rep once, that one time you had to make an emergency call while in Spain and you ended up having to do it in his Madrid living room. An issue that could’ve gotten bigger but was eventually smoothed out by you and your diplomatic in-person talking it out with the right people. That you’re a person, too.

He wishes he’s seeing you now.

> i will be eating, i promise. just trying to catch a cab at the moment.

He realizes that you must’ve been waiting for a ride for over twenty minutes already, a thought that makes him frown.

> Stranded? Where are you? (Sent)

When you reply, your words are back to sounding matter-of-fact and reassuring:

> kind of. long queue at cab booth, but it’ll pass. meguro persimmon hall, exit 2.

10:10, his phone says, but then he decides not to think it through.

> Let’s get something to eat. (Sent)

He stays standing in front of his glass window across his crossed-armed reflection, waiting for your reply. After a significant amount of time of no word from you (roughly five minutes), he realizes one important thing and flicks his phone open to send you another quick message.

If you like, of course. I know it’s late. It’s a Saturday, after all. He cannot be subjecting his manager to his whims on a Saturday night and on your day off, much less. Why did he not think this through?

But then,

i’d love to, goes your reply. it’s just cab is difficult right now. will you have time to wait for me?

Sae’s response comes easy, intuitive, almost unconscious. Except as he types his message out, he becomes very much conscious of the constraints and the limits of a medium devoid of a physical you, confines through which the words he intend to say but which no one can hear almost bleed out, like he’s saying them out loud in the moment. And taste them in his mouth. An honesty, a sense of earnestness in words that almost reach over your tiny screens.

Stay where you are. I’ll pick you up.

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In his car, he catches the very simple fact that you no longer adjust his passenger’s seat because he never really has to accommodate anyone else but you, a small thing you also notice because the cute bear patterned headrest pillow that you’d once dug out from the backseat—a random purchase of his—that looks very much out of place in his car’s slick black refinement, and yet, somehow, has always stayed there, is still attached at just the right height and position as you’ve left it last time. The last time, and the many other times he’s driven you in his car.

It had been a sort of predicament, the first time, his driver being unavailable so Sae had to be the one to drive the both of you around the city, and you hesitating to get in the backseat like he’s your own personal driver…as opposed to the more personal, reserved-for-the-more-important front passenger seat. Sae had seen through your quiet dilemma though, had watched you deliberate silently for a few seconds before himself speaking up with a quick nod to the seat beside him:

Up front with me. I’ll be your driver, either way.

This time, there’s no more hesitating as you fasten your seatbelt; “You don’t get a lot of passengers in here, huh.”

He confirms with a reply, more to himself, as he reverses the car with one hand, but with him twisting his body and placing his other arm over the back of your seat to look behind, his words come out a little quiet—a little strained—but very clear near your ear.

“No—just you.”

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You spend a good thirty minutes deciding on where to eat because, as it turns out, you’ve been hard-pressed on finding a place that caters to his current training diet. When Sae realizes this, you’re both standing at the receiving area of what looks to be an authentic Thai restaurant, you with your nose pressed on a hand-held board menu, forehead scrunched in focus at the rows of items of foreign cuisine.

He ignores the ogling—both blatant and not—of passersby and the handful of servers maintaining their best not to crowd at reception; the uninvited eyes are the least of his concern at the moment.

“Whole steamed fish sounds good…”

“Let’s eat where you’d like to eat,” he says as he carefully lowers the board out of your face with two fingers. “No diet; I’m on my day-off.”

“You sure?”

He shrugs. “And I’m the one who asked you out, so pick wherever you want.”

You do not question anymore the logic behind his reasoning, nor dwell too much on the sentiment behind the gesture; you only look up for a brief moment at the whole place, past the staring eyes and the extent of the interior you could manage from the outside. Place looks pleasant and airy enough, not too noisy, not too many people—just enough you know he’d be able to manage (like he’s always able to). He would like it here.

“How about here?”

Sae’s gaze follows yours, narrowing in thought, before he fully lifts the menu board out of your hand. He takes a second to scan through the items himself, eyes diligently noting the spiciness level of each dish and, not to mention, the ever-present Authentic Thai spices and seasoning! tagline. Great place, great food, but considering how this place obviously does not play around with their spices, he spares a moment to recall, very quickly, the few instances he’s ever seen you with spicy food, and the most striking instance that comes to mind was that one time after a joint training in Barcha a couple of months back, when someone had brought in a spicy dish for sharing, and there was Meguru Bachira holding his full plate that was good enough for two as far away from you as possible, a look of warning on his face and a very pointed, ‘This paella is Level 12 spicy, ma’am! So you better watch out.”

Bachira was eating what was supposed to be your share, was also the point, but which you supported no problem.

“You think you can handle their spicy level?”

Your eyes flicker a few times before lighting up with recognition, and then you’re breaking into a shy, contained smile, red freckling your cheeks, not expecting him to catch on to the fact that you have extremely low tolerance to spiciness. “You’re right. Not for me.”

Sae wills his eyes away, clearing his throat.

“Let’s go where you wanna go,” he says, stepping aside so you may lead the way.

“Actually, I know a good burger stall around—over there.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

Right around the street food stalls is a park that he’s never been to before. He’s a little surprised by the amount of people and life still up this late keeping the place awake, a little grateful when you lead him to a row of benches on the quieter side of the area. You don’t know what time it closes, you tell him, but it doesn’t matter, it’s not like you need the place open ‘till 5 AM anyway.

Seated on the bench, you finally get to ask him.

“So, how was your day?”

He flicks his diet soda open before answering, his other hand inching the large fries he didn’t ask for closer to you. He was doubting earlier whether to get them or not, but then he remembered that you’re not as averse to potato fries as he is.

“Uneventful.”

You follow with a quiet nod before he realizes you must be quickly running his schedule over in your head, schedule you always have mentally penned no matter the day. “That’s fair. Today was rest day for you.”

“Yours, as well,” he reminds you. “Suppose this should count as overtime, shouldn’t it?”

Light laughter spills through your half-opened mouth, interrupting what is supposed to be your first bite. “Well, since it’s technically outside of both our work hours, then I guess I’m not required to play manager, am I? So then, there’s no need.”

He gives his double cheeseburger a very brief inspection—“Then I’m just your regular guy—“ satisfied upon seeing that nobody forgot to put in the spicy sauce and pickles.

“How does it feel to be ordinary, Itoshi Sae?” Finally, you both get your first bites at the same time.

“Lib’rating,” he says through a stuffed mouth, pausing before he takes his next one. “You shouldn’t be letting any random guy buy you food, though.”

“Except you’re not just any random guy,” you say, smiling. “You’re a friend, of course.”

A friend. It’s a Saturday night and everyone’s out with their friends. Before he can fully process your words, though—and the burger is good—he sees you turning to him with a slightly wary look on your face.

“We could move your early morning run, too, you know. Coach wouldn’t mind, since you’re out so late tonight…”

“It’s your call. Coach wouldn’t object to you.”

“Oh, so you’re making me work.”

“No.” He quietly groans at the sight of your goofy grin. “Well, what ever’s your friendly counsel?”

You shake your head as if you’ve already told him so. “My friendly advice would always be to clear off your Sunday schedule because Sundays should be for sleeping in.”

“Alright, don’t push it. My manager’s gonna kill you and then me if I skip on my workout altogether.”

“Hey—!”

“She’s way too crazy with this Spartan training.” In spite of the empty look he schools his face into, there’s humor that softens the corners of his eyes at the sound of your fruitless protest.

Across the park and in front of you, there’s a group of children running about, being kids, doing cartwheels in the grass. There’s at least five of them kicking a football around and Sae idly wonders if any of them are, by now, as big a dreamer as he had been at that age. Wonders whether that’s a good thing or not; wonders, too, if that should be relevant. Even at this hour, the park stays bright and alive, even though the spot you’ve picked seems to be pretty divorced from much of the loudness and attention.

He catches you smiling at one or two things from the scenery across, if not because of the burger you look to be happily devouring. As if the taste is somehow attached to a memory he’s unable to gleam out of your eyes. Maybe he should ask you; maybe he shouldn’t. Does this make you happy?

“Well,” he considers for just a moment, “as your friend, I suppose I could tell you that I was out with a girl tonight. Are you proud?”

“‘Fat’s good!” You slowly nod as you place a hand over your mouth, courtesy in the middle of your chewing. “I am pwoud!”

He snorts, waits for you to finish your food, noticing the way you pat the paper bags on your left and right, searching for something.

“So, how was it? And how was she?” Your face suddenly freezes, your hands pause over your mouth. “I hope you did not ditch anyone on account of me, Sae-kun.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” he says, shaking his head as he places his clean stack of paper napkins beside your lap for you. “Silly woman.”

“I did not think so,” and, for a brief, scary moment, Sae entertains the idea that maybe it’s not a question of whether he would or would not ditch anything on account of you, but it’s what could he possibly not ditch on account of you. “Thank you.”

There’s a period of comfortable silence for some time and the both of you let it stretch on for a bit, the varied, lively view in front providing enough distraction along with the food you’re both happily, quietly devouring. He does, however, feel that looming sense of question in the air, the way he’s somehow always able to tell whenever you’re deep in thought. Like the precursor to a piece of music he’ll always recognize. Always, always, in his head.

Why did he even think of telling you this, again? He suddenly doesn’t know, and he hears you sigh before you speak.

“You don’t have to tell me if you choose not to, but I am curious about this girl, though.” He cannot help but be amused at your careful wording. “So, how was it, how was she like?”

Sae squints over his burger before he takes another bite. “There’s nothing much to say. It’s over.”

“No way…that can’t be real.”

He shrugs. “Real. It simply won’t work out. We might’ve already known for a while.”

You gasp softly at this and Sae realizes that he likes it. Taking you by surprise. “Elaborate…”

“So interested, aren’t you.” He finally places his food down, crosses his legs and sits a little more comfortably with one arm over the back of the bench. “I could tell you. We’ve known each other for a while now, have gone out together a few times, too. But I enjoyed the company more than anything else; more than what it could’ve been, or even just the prospect of it, if that makes sense.” He folds his arm, bringing his knuckle to his cheek, angling just right so he could see your reaction. “You could say it was over before it even began,” which is, in a way, not false.

“Oh,” you begin to say, cradling your drink with both hands as you look on straight ahead. “That’s too bad.” But even as you don’t say anything else for a few good seconds, Sae’s staring does not waver, stays waiting for when you do look back with your question. “You think she felt the same way?”

“You think she might’ve?”

“I don’t know.” Your smile is honest, more open now. “I don’t know enough about this girl, as you see.”

He hums in thought as he closes his eyes, the wind blowing softly on his face. “She works in a magazine, big fan of football since she was a kid. We’ve met at a media event in Madrid a couple of years ago. She’s got some interesting views about football in Japan; some I agree with, some I don’t. She moves around a lot because of work, Tokyo, Madrid, Paris…you’ve probably even seen her in one of our events, I don’t know. Or maybe not.”

Sae thinks he’s memorized your expressions by now, your gestures, but nothing of the unreadable eyes you point straight ahead help him anticipate the way you adjust your seating so now you’re propping your head against your hand, too, crossing your legs, close to mirroring his posture. “But those are just things. You could say that about anyone and still don’t know them.” Your other hand absently moves to the base of your throat, fingers lithe over the band of your swan necklace that peeks out of your neckline. Facing him, but also not. “The same way…you might tell someone that I’m your manager, and you’re a football player. Or just a regular guy.”

He gives it a moment of thought. “I guess I don’t remember. Not sure if I even knew her at all.” To which you let out another quiet gasp.

“No, you can’t not remember…That’s a little sad.”

He mentally files your unexpected response, before closing his eyes once again. “Then, I don’t remember anything important, anything of value. We were cool, but I bored her to death, she bored me to death.” He steals a glance through a cracked eye, however, searching for your expression. “I’m not such a good talker, as you know.”

This makes you laugh. “That’s not true.” Sae was right, you do not mind eating up his fries, as well. Something about this strikes him as endearing, you sharing his food, whether you’re aware of it or not, but he gets no time to ponder it over. “We’ve had plenty of fun and worthwhile conversations as far as I’m concerned. About football, or otherwise.”

“No, I get what you mean.” And he does. And he hopes he’s saying enough to help you see that he really does understand. “I don’t forget people so easily.”

There’s another stretch of silence, of zero words filling the air between you, and in this short moment, he decides whether to let you in on one more thing. One last bit of truth, because it’s late and inside him is a strange sense of lack of inhibition. A sense of wonder as to how much he could push this little space further.

Maybe it’s the lateness of the hour. Or maybe it’s you. And is it enough? The glances he gets to steal as he sits on the other end of this tiny bench, good enough for two? The vague sentiments he gets to put out there in the world?

“I suppose, I meant to say,” he tilts his head just slightly, just enough so he’s able to make out your face out of the corner of his line of sight, “that I was more preoccupied than interested. Because I might like someone else.”

You don’t answer back right away, not fast enough, leaving just the tiniest room for an invisible thought behind your eyes. When you open your mouth to speak, it’s with a smile, but this one without meeting his gaze.

“Well. Then, that’s great—“

He can’t help but wonder what he’d see if he sees your eyes this time.

“—that you like someone. And I am happy for you.”

And that, if you ask him, right now, who this person is—the way a friend might—would he tell you the truth?

Somewhere, he hears the distant chiming of a clock tower eleven, twelve times, he does not count, nor bothers to find out. In the playing field across, one of the children tries to make a serious attempt to goal but then he sends the ball flying way past the post and fails. He rolls to the ground in despair while the other kids run to him in easy laughter. It’s all good fun.

Despite the hour, there does not seem to be any plans on any of the people leaving.

Sae takes a beat before clearing his throat. “That’s enough about me,” he begins, absently picking from the fries—his fries—you left between the two of you. “How was your day?”

You catch him frowning at the taste of french fries and you almost laugh because Sae, as far as you’re concerned, has no business eating french fries.

“Apart from tonight’s ballet, nothing much happened.” He squints at you in disbelief. “Well, things did happen, but nothing as colorful as yours.”

“Like I said: it was pretty much uneventful.”

“You should’ve watched with me.”

Sae’s smirk comes unbidden. “And watch you sparkly-eyed over dancing I wouldn’t understand while I do my best not to sleep.”

You look aghast. “Oh, but it’s different when you do get to watch it. There’s a lot more similarities between ballet and football than you might think, you know?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. And you’d be amazed by how effortless it all looks, how easy they make them all look.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“It might be hard to imagine the impressive power and strength behind their action because a ballet dancer jumps with a lot of grace. And beauty, of course.” Your gaze turns soft. “All that mental focus, the core and abdominal muscle strength, the footwork—“ you suddenly clasp your hands close, just now realizing the unwieldy gestures you start making with your hands, and you purse your lips into an awkward smile. “—You know all those things, too, of course.”

But Sae does not want you to stop, does not ever want you to curb the love you wish for him to see, as he realizes, with startling clarity, that he might and he would give anything a chance just because it has you. Just because it is you.

“Not in the same way that you do.” He shifts in his seat to face you more fully now, his undivided attention tinged with the amusement at your unusual excitement and wordy enthusiasm. “Well, so, mind sparing me some ballet wisdom that I could use out there on the field?”

And he listens, watches, as you slowly unravel this thing that you love with so much heart, his attention held captive, his eyes drawn by the delicate gestures you once again start to unthinkingly make with your hands, like you’re forming words you can hold along with the movement of your lips, the curl of the corners of your mouth, the clasping and unclasping of your fingers, in harmony with the flutter of your eyes, the softening of your gaze, the rise and fall of your voice. Romance, you’re explaining now—ballet, by the very nature of the dance, is very romantic.

And, like a stray eyelash on your cheek, he plucks out the delicate word with careful fingers—

“Romance—” holds it at the tip of his tongue. “You think that I…could benefit with a little romance—is your ballet expert’s advice on how to be No. 1 on the field.”

He catches the humor in your eyes. “Yes, I suppose you could be a little more romantic.”

“Elaborate on what this ‘romantic’ means.”

“It’s like…it’s like when you bring someone to the ocean to see the sunset, and the sunset stops being the point.”

He narrows his eyes at your analogy, but then amusement tugs at the corners of his lips. “That sounds like a random string of words, but…weirdly enough, I get what you mean.”

“Oh, I just thought…well, I know you enjoy the ocean a whole lot so I thought of explaining in terms you might appreciate more.” At his expression of wonder, you chuckle. “I’m the one who books your vacations so I know where you like to go, okay.”

He shakes his head at the triumphant expression your face melts into. “Romance, I get that. I hope as my manager you’re taking this down—“ a faux incredulity at your glee,“—but tell me: you think if I gave you a pass you could score a goal for me?”

This one, you take a serious moment to give some real thought, like you’re asked a critical question you’ve never asked yourself before. And then you’re smiling, pursing your lips.

“I doubt that,” in your brief laughter he’s able to catch that hesitant gleam in your eyes—“I don’t have that killer instinct—“ the sheepish, almost self-conscious contact of your hand to your face, a gesture he’s come to know means you’re embarrassed, and Sae no longer resists the laughter that rises out of him. He used to spend a good amount of time wondering what you could be thinking, in whatever situation the two of you are thrown into, in the rare times that he allows his thoughts to stray to where they rarely go—in the quiet of the car; in the chaos of the dugout in the middle of an important match and he catches your eye by sheer coincidence; in the silence with which you mask the unease behind your eyes in certain moments he’s yet to figure out the reason behind of. If he no longer loses as much sleep over the rationality that is you as he had had before, it is less out of disinterest but more because two years worth of constantly being in each other’s orbits have given your relationship—this Player/Manager partnership/friendship, or whatever you’d like to call it—a certain fundamental reliability; your self a level of predictability, for lack of a better term. Like how he’s learned to avoid saying or doing certain things out of a nagging itch, that is, knowing how they might make you feel. So much of you might require a little more stretching of the imagination still for him to understand, but it’s maybe that same fundamental knowing, as well, that has earned Sae this unwarranted and, admittedly, mind-boggling predisposition to keep learning. To keep learning more.

(Of you.)

Because a part of him knows, in the same vein as having learned to know you, that you’ll always be able to surpass his imagination. A realization he has no idea what to do with.

And now you’re smiling to yourself and he doesn’t even completely know why, and the pleasant stirrings of warmth he feels from his stomach to his chest and up his neck to his face tells him he’s fine with this puzzlement.

Because you’re not a prize or a ‘trophy’ to be won, and this isn’t a game he gets to play. There are games he gets to crush, outcomes he gets to control to the utmost perfection, and then there is you—

You give a little laugh when you catch his eyes.

—this is where his rationality stops, where his head empties of all the cold calculation and certainties he arms himself with against the world—

“What?”

“You aren’t such a bad talker as you say you are—see?”

—and be left with nothing more than the simple truth of who and what he wants, along with the clarity of your image:

You, sparkly-eyed, beside him in a park one night, telling him who you are.

MASTERLIST

taglist: @kunikame @ac-koryu-13 @dioscuridios @kiyohdasimp @ririgards @saeitoshithoughts @simpx123 @silly-ez @jwhwbwhwh @yoimyas @imhererighthererightnoe @luvjiro @wifeofgeto @nxxagent @xoyumiqls @oosden @shiinobu-x @francinethings23 @beabeemu @ashen-sky @arminseas @lostinbeidou @bluerskiees @sagejin @whotaooo @nanami230 @li28zi @gemoyo @ari-maccha @kiopanxp @exatse @tears-dnt-fall @saenora @stormeye111 @1isabelfox​

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE’S PATIENCE 🥲

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

You know how girls have this sixth sense or guts feelings about a guy having ability to be dangerous person or like 'oh this person can be fucked up' . Do you think this is what happen with those 20 girls rejecting shinichiro sano? Like if it was 3-5 I can say bad luck ? But 20? I know most of the fandom say the girls are blind or shinichiro flirting skills are well bad enough making him desperate or it is him being a leader of the gang in Japan where it is seen in negative image. But c'mon universally teenage girls love a bad boy image. I don't think out of those 20 girls didn't find shinichiro sano attractive with all these qualities. I love Shin but 20 rejection in reality straight up a red flag?

20 appears as a funny hyperbole at first, and it sure was used for comedic effects but I agree Shinichiro has unsettling flaws (to say it nicely). Transposing the number '20' to real life could appear off.

Shinichiro is indeed a delinquent (and the leader of a whole gang of them, who reached Japan's number 1 spot - that's not nothing) and is seen by all the characters we know as an endearing idiot with a heart of gold. And yet no girl fell for it. Good for them, they deserve better than making the experience of being with Shinichiro. They wouldn't have known what they'd have signed up for..

Shinichiro is a red flag in himself once you see pass the 'perfect brother, perfect friend' mask. He is a 'good person' but only because his life didn't make it so he saw a point to doing 'mean things' - he's not against the idea, we know about Original Timeline. 'It's because he didn't have Mikey anymore!' I don't think one's morals should be dependent on another's well-being. (I eat that shit up everytime in fiction, and I love messed up characters, Shinichiro fits both and I love that, and i love him, but it'd be daring to say he's a good person knowing everything he did - and knowing we ignore a lot more stuffs). Sure he was a 14 y/o but he still named his gang after an irl ultranationalist organization (knowing how Japan hides and denies its past, I wonder how he knows about that), he brought his 8 y/o brother to a gang meeting when he was 18, his idea of bonding with Izana was showing him how to act like a delinquent, etc. Original Timeline makes him even more of a red flag but considering the additional factors behind his behavior at that time, it's possible to think (and whether it's right or wrong I don't know, interpretations vary and sometimes Shinichiro is very hard to grasp, I have troubles with him at times) his behavior there wouldn't ever manifest had it been not for this exact situation of losing Mikey (and what was left of his family on the way).

And yeah, Shinichiro would never be as violent, impulsive and hostile as when Mikey dies - but those things didn't stem from nowhere. There's definitively crumbs of it even when Mikey's doing well. He's got trauma he refuses to address (parents' death, parentification, ...) which.. I can see as cradle for some toxic positivity - being portrayed as perfect, good and kind until OG timeline, we only ever see him smile until he loses Mikey. And when he tries therapy it doesn't work.

One thing you can't take away from Shinichiro though, is that he's earnest, he has not an ounce of malice in him. If he deceives people (by making them believe he's perfectly imperfect) it's not intentional because he himself sees himself as the image most see him as. That's worse in some way, because he really is unaware of how harmful he can be - he's a red flag but he sincerely thinks he's good, he never purposely intends to hurt anyone. He loves to help out his loved ones and he'd probably do the same to strangers, but he also sucks at assessing their pain or any kind of repercussions in any given context (ex: treating Haruchiyo's 'slashing his friends because they badmouthed Mikey' incident lightly, abruptly disbanding Black Dragon and seemingly not doing anything for Takeomi's distress, downplaying Sanzu's scars, ...). He's an enabler, too. If a loved one were to say '[x] makes me happy!' then he'd let them to [x] even if it actually harms them - he wouldn't see how that can be wrong, since they're happy.

The fact they were so much makes me doubt of the seriousness of his feelings I have to admit. While he has a lot of love to give and is genuine in his interactions with others (unless they're twisted by denial, ie: OG timeline Shinichiro acting happy and fine), it appears as if he's just desperate to have a girlfriend - without caring who it may be. It seems very shallow, does he even know the girls? If they don't know him it'd explain a bit why they didn't accept. If we restrain those love confessions to his Black Dragon years he has confessed to five girls each year - almost one for each season, one every 2 month and a half or so on average. That's fast lol.

After that we could talk about the possible reasons why he was so eager to have someone; ranging from 'typical teen wishing to acquire relationship experience' to 'thinking he needs to provide his little siblings with a mother figure because he can only fulfill the father figure role' by way of 'needing to save the family's face after their father's cheating get spread' but.. I don't want to develop them more, and they aren't really the topic at hand here.

Another issue that could arose from a relationship is that he'd put Mikey and his family first before anything else - that's a hard true and that needs to be accepted quickly too, no girl could ever be his number one priority no matter how desperate he sounds to have one.

One may say his inability to get girls is a difference between him and Takemichi — the fact Takemichi got Hinata as a girlfriend because she fell for him, got Emma to almost sleep with him, and got Yuzuha to have a crush on him. But we're used to comparing those two silly guys and thinking they both function the same way and by so, Takemichi being an idiot but still good at heart, Shinichiro can't possibly be a red flag. It's the kind of thing the story doesn't make you instinctively overthink, I think. We have clues on how Shinichiro is as a person once we scrap the surface of TR and starts to dig, but we really have nothing about how he'd be in a relationship, how he'd act toward a significant other - and picturing him as another Takemichi is just something that the story makes us do throughout the entirety of it so it feels logical for a time to give Shinichiro the same traits.

[kewltie]

Happy Holidays M4dG4rl!

prompt: romeo & juliet

"You live in this area?!" Katsuki frowns at the decrepit buildings around them.

Izuku nods.

He eyes him. "You know this neighborhood is declared a black zone by the Hero Commission."

Rampant crimes, deteriorating infrastructures, and lack of government support. It's not the best living condition, Izuku knows, but to him it's home.

"We can't always choose where we come from," he says with an ambiguous air.

Katsuki's frown deepens. "If you're in trouble, I can—" His coms suddenly beeps, cutting the rest of his sentence off.

"Dynamight, we need you over here Ward D," a familiar voice comes through. It sounds like Chargebolt.

They'd never met, but Izuku has always seen him on the news, standing side by side with Katsuki as his equal. His partner. A place Izuku had once dream of.

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance. "I'm busy."

"It's the League." Hush. Urgent.

Katsuki turns to Izuku, conflicted.

Izuku puts on a smile and silently mouths, "It's fine."

Katsuki sighs. "I'll be right there," he says to Chargebolt, before shutting off their connection. "I'll take you home first."

Izuku shakes his head. "My apartment is close by. I can go on my own," he insists.

"Your ward was voted the murder capital of Japan twice," he says dryly.

"Dynamight-san," Izuku says a little too politely, and Katsuki flinches at the sudden formal address, "I may be quirkless, but I'm not helpless. I been living here for two years now, so I think I can handle getting home alone."

Katsuki looks away, lips pursed and shoulders tense. "I didn't fucking mean that," he says. Terse. "I haven't thought of you like that in a long time now, so don't put shitty words in my mouth."

It's not an apology for their past, but Izuku's heart softens by his sincerity.

It been over twelve years since they last saw each other, that's long enough for each of them to grow out of the discomfort and awkwardness of youth, and the ignorance of childhood. Without Izuku there, Katsuki had matured into a young man who can owned up to his past mistakes. Izuku is so proud of him, but there's a part of him that wishes he was there to witness it, to be a part of it.

"Sorry," he murmurs softly, clutching his conbini bag tightly. "I know we're not children anymore. You've grown and I'm happy to see that." And that's the truth. "I'm really happy," he repeats, the handle of the plastic bag crunching under his palm, "but then I wonder what it would be like if I was there with you."

Katsuki stares at him, gaze unrelenting. "Then don't disappear on me again."

"That was out of my control," he explains. His mother's untimely death. The separation. And now their reunion after all these years. None of it ever felt like it was within in his control. "But you have my numbers now and you know where I live. I'm not going anywhere this time."

Katsuki gives him a skeptical look.

Which is quite unfair because it's not like Izuku made a habit of running away and hiding from Katsuki. It only happened twice! The first time, he wasn't mentally prepared to meet Katsuki and the second, the timing was just awful, so Izuku wasn't doing it on purpose or anything.

He glances down at his watch, looking annoyed. "I have to go, but we're not done here," he says, and it sounds much like a threat.

The corner of Izuku's lips twitches. "I know," he says. Katsuki definitely won't let him off again. "It's okay, go fight some bad guys, hero-san."

Katsuki snorts. "Shut up, Deku," he says as Izuku tries to stifles a laugh. "I'm coming back for your ass, just you wait."

He grins. "I'll be waiting then," he says, waving Katsuki goodbye as he gives Izuku one more lingering glance before off he goes in a blast into the night.

Izuku stands there with his konbini bag for a moment, watching Katsuki blazes through sky like a distance star as he gets farther and farther away.

Their reunion seems worlds apart, ill-fated.

He takes one last look at Katsuki's quickly disappearing spark before heading back.

Izuku's apartment is a few blocks down, but the closer he gets to it the night seems to seep in every crevasse till the last of the streetlight gives away to neon signs and chouchins that hang in front of the shops lining the streets. The darkness encroaches in dim alleyways and unseen corners.

The inhabitants, though, doesn't seem to care or notice the remaining light of civilization fading away. Here in Ward X, the Hero Commission's reaches does not touch. They make their own rules however violence and capricious it may be, but Izuku and thousands of others call it home.

Izuku navigates through the cramp, dark streets with a familiar ease. Occasionally, he'll bypass groups idly squatting in a corner, people luring guests into forbidden teahouses under red lights, and lone figures staking out defensively victims. He walks pass them unbothered.

A third of the way, he starts hearing footsteps behind him that keep on crawling closer. Izuku purposely slows down enough for the footsteps to catch up and stop. He feels the press of something hard against his back.

"Give me everything you have," the figure murmurs in his ears. Low. Threatening.

"Hello, Kawakami-san," Izuku greets, recognizing that voice right way.

The pressure on his back abruptly retracts as Izuku turns around to see a large man with an alligator head hastily taking a step back.

Kawakami withdraws the knife back into his pocket, looking chagrin. He clears his throat, the scar on his jaw rising with the movement. "I didn't know it was you, Midoriya."

"Would you like some curry bread?" Izuku offers instead, ignoring the blade that had pressed against his back earlier.

Kawakami blinks in confusion briefly, and then finally accepts Izuku’s offer of peace. He scratches his lower jaw in embarrassment. "Uh, yes."

Izuku rummages through his hefty plastic bag and pulls out one of the curry breads he had bought earlier at the convenience store before bumping into Katsuki. "It's still warm," he says.

"Appreciate it, kid," Kawakami says gruffly, taking the bread from him, and artfully avoids touching Izuku.

"Stay safe now," Izuku says, pleased with their rather pleasant exchange. "Try not to rob anyone else tonight."

Kawakami's nostrils flare. "Go home already, Midoriya. Your presence is nuisance to my business."

"I'm glad then." Izuku flashes him a grin. "Good bye, Kawakami-san."

And with that, Kawakami slinks back into the shadows and Izuku is back on track toward home once more. Except he makes a detour to a dilapidated tea shop nearby under the red glare of a neon sign. He spots two women standing outside, decked out in flashy make-up and the finest clothes.

"Izuku-chan!" one of them calls out as soon as she spots him.

The woman next to her with bleached hair crosses her arms, less enthusiastic than her partner but it nonetheless doesn't deter him.

"Hi, Yue-san and Riko-san," he says, approaching them. "How are you doing tonight?"

"Cold, hungry and annoyed." Riko casts an unimpressed look at their surroundings. "Would be better if we could catch some flies before we freeze to death."

"It's been slow night for us." Yue shrugs before sending him a playful wink. "But now that you're here it's much better."

Izuku's cheeks heat up. Yue always like to tease him, but he still has yet to get used to it. "U-um, would you like to have some breads?"

Riko's eyes narrowed, her long red nails tapping on her upper arm. Displeasure on her face. "You think we're charity case now, Midoriya?"

Izuku shakes his head. "I got these heavily discounted because they were going to expired tonight and I surely can't finish them all." It’s an easy excuse.

Yue bumps Riko's shoulder. "Hey, be nice to Izuku-chan! He's always bringing us snacks."

Riko scowls, eyes scrutinizing him before relenting. "Fine. Give it here, Mary-sama." The words are crude and unapologetic.

Izuku ducks his head in embarrassment. "P-please don't call me that."

"But you're like our little saint, bringing us a little peace and hope," Yue insists vehemently. Earnest, but no less embarrassing.

He could take Riko's mocking derision, but Yue's words weigh him down with its sincerity. He shoves the entire bag of food into her arms. "Here please take it all. You can share it with the rest of the girls," he says, and he doesn't wait for a respond as he makes a run for it.

Izuku got far enough that he no longer sees anyone close by. It's eerie quiet around him. Unusual. Suddenly, he's made painfully aware that he's all alone. There are still chouchin lights hanging outside of several buildings, but there's no sound, no people. Nothing. Just him. His apartment is just ahead, but this ominous feeling doesn’t leave him.

The silence doesn't stay for long, because Izuku soon hears wings flapping overhead and then something heavy drops down in front of him. One. Two. Three of something.

Under the dim moon of Ward X, a nomu breaks free from its pack and approaches him with steps full of intent.

Its stops short of Izuku and he holds his breath as it drops down on one knee with familiarity. The rest of its brethren follow suit as a purple swirl of gas appears, tearing into the space and a well-dressed figure steps out, outlined in smokes.

"Izuku-sama," Kurogiri greets him with a low bow. "I hope you are doing well on this lovely tonight."

He doesn't step back, but his skin crawls at the pressure that Kurogiri exudes just with his presence alone. "I’m good, thank you."

"I'm glad," he says expressionlessly. Not that Izuku can read much of it anyway. "Sensei is very proud of you. He'd seen what you done with Ward X so far and he's impressed."

Izuku stiffens. "I haven't done anything yet." These two years been nothing but him avoiding his responsibilities. His duties.

"You have gained their loyalty and trust." The yellow glare of his eyes softens. "They adore you, their Mary-sama."

Izuku is seriously beginning to hate that word. That title. It's wrong. He's no saint at all. He's a devil in whites.

He takes a deep breath, shaking off the heaviness in his chest as he tries to regain his footing. "I told him to leave me alone for five years," he says. Firm. "So why are you here in my territory?"

Kurogiri tilts his curiously like he didn't expect Izuku to challenge him like that. "Sensei wishes to see you."

"Why?" Izuku presses.

"You haven't visit him in two years. He misses you," he reveals like he's reading off a fact in a book. "You are most precious son after all."

Izuku almost wanted to laugh. Sensei. Father. He always has a flair of dramatic. Instead of dropping by himself personally, he sent Kurogiri and three nomus to take Izuku back for a visit. Truly ridiculous.

"And what if I say no?" he shoots back daringly. Stupidly.

Kurogiri turns toward one of the nomus next to him. "It only takes one of them to bring down an entire building here with all those people inside. Do you want to test it, Izuku-sama?" he asks coolly, fully aware of the lives he wields over Izuku's head.

Izuku clenches his fist.

Helpless. He hasn't felt that way in a long, long time. The only one who can make him feel this crushing defeat was and still is his father. He always managed to grab Izuku's weakness and exploit it to the fullest.

Izuku's eyes flutter as he sighs. "Let's go then."

"A wise choice." Kurogiri steps aside and gestures for Izuku to step toward the portal. "Sensei will be very happy to see you again, Izuku-sama. He'd personally prepared all your favorite dishes tonight."

Izuku stops, brows furrowing. "He cooked?"

"I believe he wanted to impress you," Kurogiri explains. A pause. “He really did miss you quite a bit.”

Despite his father constant machination and the differences how they view people's life, this is the same man who stayed up late and held Izuku in his arms when he couldn't sleep after a nightmare. Izuku loves his father with equal fervor as much as he hates and fears him.

The world may know All for One as a monster, but to Izuku he's just father. Overbearing. Overprotective. Obsessive. Izuku suffocates under the weight of his father's love. It's why he ran all the way here to Ward X, because he has to escape his father’s clutch before it completely ruins him.  

"Let's go then before he decides to destroy something to get my attention," Izuku murmurs with anticipation and dread of meeting his father again after their two years separation.

This is why he didn't want to meet Katsuki again.

He hopes Katsuki will never know the truth because what will Katsuki think of him then? An enemy? A traitor? Or someone so unworthy of even his notice? He may believe he’s reuniting with an estranged childhood friend, but what Katsuki doesn't know is that the scariest thing here is not the dark alley, the impenetrable night, or the threat of looming violence, it's Izuku. Izuku isn't his father, but some days he thinks he's worse than that because he lies as easily as he breathes.

They're like parallel lines stuck in their own course but if they're force to meet, it’ll be an inevitable collision. A heartbreaking, bloody collision. His father will not let Katsuki live and Katsuki certainly won’t give him mercy either. And Izuku doesn’t know when it comes to down to it, who would he choose to side with?

[thefiercest]

TMNT SPLINTER HEADCANNONS

Splinter mostly drinks mint teas to help his mind and body relax

Splinter often has nightmares about his past traumas.

Splinter and Shredder have both fought in the war when they were 18 or 20. 

Splinter had a complicated relationship with his father and they were never really close.

Splinter was a mama’s boy. He was very close to his mother and loved her dearly. 

Splinter got into fights and liked to cause trouble when he was a teenager.

Splinter was also a little jealous of Saki when he was young because he seemed to be far more closer with his father then he was and got way more respect. 

Splinter did not want to admit his feelings to Shen at first, partly because of his brother and partly because he did not feel worthy of her.

Splinter would get straight As in art class.

Splinter still gets anxious about fires, even if it is just a small candle.

Before his sons, Splinter thought about committing suicide. Blaming himself for the death of his wife, daughter and even his entire clan. 

Splinter’s mother and father were still alive when he left Japan but he decided to never go back to them even before his mutation.

Splinter blamed his father for Tang Shen’s death and Miwa’s kidnapping. After learning that Shredder was the son of their enemy, Splinter had yelled at his father and told him that if he did not bring the son of their enemy into their lives then his family would still be alive. 

Usagi’s counterpart in their world was Splinter’s best friend as well as a man named Chung I.

Splinter was a bit of a slob when he was young but after raising four boys, he tried to keep things neat and clean. 

Splinter was curious and liked to learn new things. He sometimes got so caught up in what he was doing that he would lose track of time. 

Splinter sometimes wishes that Leonardo would not worry so much and just be a teenager.

Splinter gets so easily annoyed with Raphael because he reminds him so much  of himself when he was young.

Splinter has a hard time understanding Donatello sometimes but he tries his best to connect with his son.

Splinter babies and spoils Mikey. Partly because he reminds him of his sweet Tang Shen but also because well, he is his youngest and most innocent son. 

Splinter spoils Karai the most and tries to give her space since he knows that she needs to figure things out on her own.

Splinter used to believe in revenge and almost acted on it when Shredder took everything he cared about from him but the memory of his loving wife stopped him from doing so.

Splinter still gets deeply depressed on the anniversary of his wife’s death and locks himself in his room until the day is over. 

Splinter holds back a little when fighting Shredder because part of him is still holding on to the memory of when they were brothers.

“Splinter” was his nickname in the war and he made that his first name because he felt like he was not Hamato Yoshi anymore and was fighting the greatest war of all, to keep him and his sons alive.

Splinter does have other clothes than a kimono, he just wears a kimono during training or when company comes over since he is a bit insecure about how he looks in normal clothes. (His seen those videos of people laughing at dressed up animals)

Before Donnie was able, Splinter used to do all the mechanical and doctor things around their home and though it always worked out in the end, it stressed him out which is why he was so grateful to his genius son.

Splinter feels guilty about the burden he placed on his eldest son and sometimes wonders if he should have waited until he and his brothers were older.

Every time the boys come back from a horrible mission, Splinter regrets ever allowing them to go to the surface in the first place and does his best to comfort them.

Splinter’s relationship with Shen was a bit similar to Raph and Monalisa’s relationship. Shen was Splinter’s strength while Splinter was Shen’s courage. 

[faulty-writes]

Thank for you previous answer ! The girls do deserve more attention 😔

Since your requests seems to be still open, may I please request something for Tenya and our favorite girlboss Mei dating a 1-A student who's a nepo baby and thus, their relationship being the subject of a lot of gossip ? (You write tenya really well I can't help myself but ask something for him)

I hope you're having a great week-end 😌

[ Ironically enough, Mei is my second favorite ship with Iida. The first would be Uraraka. Either way, this request sounds awesome! If you're familiar with My Hero Academia: Vigilantes, you'll recognize who the father of the "nepo baby" reader is. If you haven't read that manga, I suggest doing so because it is amazing. ]

Who could have imagined years and years after your father visited Japan, you'd make the choice to enroll at Yuuei. Of course, being from America and the child of the Playboy Hero: Captain Celebrity was a big deal.

From the start, you recalled how others stared at you. Bewildered at your existence. Well, all except one. "Hello!" he bellowed out, chopping his hand through the air. "My name is Tenya Iida. I am very honored to have a student of such high status join us at this prestigious learning establishment!"

You hated that your father's playboy reputation followed you, unlike him you preferred to remain loyal to the one you loved. Of course, this didn't stop rumors from starting the moment everyone found out that you and Tenya were dating. "I suppose that is rather troubling, but I do not believe rumors are made in just," Part of you wanted to know how long that perspective would last.

"Pardon, please step away from Y/n," he said, clenching his fists by his sides and staring daggers at Neito who had pinned you against the wall. "Oh, come now, they were flirting with me! And rumor has it they have a bit of a crush on me, heh. Perhaps you're too ordinary for them, after all as a bit of a celebrity baby myself, I think Y/n and I would make the perfect couple," Tenya naturally became infuriated with those words and explained the wrongs Neito had committed before politely dragging you away.

"It's somewhat disheartening to know our relationship has garnered so much attention," he stated, tapping his chin as he looked outside at the group of paparazzi. "It's not so bad once you get used to it kid!" your father, otherwise known as Captain Celebrity said, slapping Tenya on the shoulder with a bright smile. "Forgive me," he replied, shrugging your father's hand off. "But I do not wish to make Y/n go through such complications," although part of him hated the rumors that continued to circulate about your relationship.

"I...I am not quite sure how to respond to...such a thing," Tenya stated, looking at his phone. There was an article published with a picture of you and him. He was wearing his Ingenium suit with his arm wrapped around you, but it appeared as though you were in some weird love triangle because you were also holding onto Deku's hand. You frowned when you noticed the title of the article, 'Celebrity Student Love Affairs.'

Gossip was strenuous, to say the least, and you were more than certain Tenya would end your relationship due to the unwanted attention. But as usual, he used logic to make it work. "Perhaps this is but a taste of the inner workings of a hero's life. I am well aware that you are rather...famous in your own regard and I...I am quite honored to be with you and our romantic endeavor regardless of the challenges it presents," sometimes you wondered if he'd make a better poet than a hero student.

Mei was the bubbliest girl you had ever met, and when she found out you were a celebrity baby. Well, she took advantage of it as she often did with others if it meant her inventions, or "babies" as she called them, got attention. In the words of Shota Aizawa, "She's a born saleswoman" and boy did she sell you right into a relationship.

"Oh, try this on! It's baby number 5706!" she exclaimed excitedly with that bright smile that made your heart race. "Now strike a pose!" she demanded, holding her phone up. "Once they see my babies are used by a celebrity baby, there'll be no stopping the businesses that will contact me!" While you were happy to help Mei become more recognized, you had your hopes you were more than just an advertisement opportunity for her.

Mei was rarely serious, but when you brought up your suspicions that she was using your "relationship" to boost her ego for the first time you saw her frown. "Don't get me wrong, my babies are super important to me! And it's good to have someone in the spotlight to advertise them! But...you're my ultimate baby!"

"Yeah, I swear man! Y/n flirted with me yesterday!" Hanta announced, purposely allowing Mei to overhear. But she was either too busy with her current invention to bother or she was ignoring him. "Hey Hatsume!" he called, "How do you feel about that!?" She paused and turned to look at him with a smile. "Sorry, what was your name again?" she honestly didn't care about the rumors and even if you were flirting, she'd figure out a way to keep your heart. After all, she wasn't one to easily give up.

She handled the paparazzi pretty well or at least better than you imagined. In fact, she took the opportunity to hold you close and do just about anything publicly acceptable to show her affection for you. She also answered any curious questions or rumors about your relationship and what it was like to date the child of famous celebrity heroes. It all boiled down to her accepting you for who you were rather than your predetermined title as a celebrity baby.

She was strangely protective of you, especially when you invited her to high-class events that your parents attended. "That's the power of my latest baby!" She announced after successfully crushing the lens of a paparazzi member's camera who had tried to take scandalous pictures of you with someone else. They got frightened away and Mei proceeded to hold you close for the rest of the night.

[tofutortoise]

My Experience at The Tempest (少年社中) + Meeting Imata Taira!!

On Monday I saw Shonen Shachu’s 25th anniversary production of The Tempest in Tokyo! Overall, I had an amazing experience, and even got to meet IMATA TAIRA HIMSELF!!! And speak to him, which was unreal. Details below, but also spoilers for the play! 

First off, I got my ticket through the lottery system, and somehow I ended up with a fantastic seat on the first floor! I haven’t had great luck with random seats in the past, but this time I sure did. It was a pretty small theater with excellent acoustics. The set was minimal but well utilized. I was really excited about the costumes after seeing all the glittering visuals on the official website (see here), but for some reason, the actual costumes they wore for the play were completely different and noticeably lower quality. I was particularly disappointed that the women’s costumes had major downgrades. On the bright side, Hiroshi Yazaki (playing Kagura/Prospero) got an even better costume than the one he wears in the official posters. He looked like a prince! 

As for the story, I can’t say I was the biggest fan. However, this is probably on me more than the production lmao. Because it’s called The Tempest, I assumed that this would simply be a production of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. However, as I quickly realized while watching the show and growing ever more confused, this is not the case!! It’s actually an original show about a theater group dealing with the loss of one of their members, reckoning with what it means to be an actor and bringing happiness to people, following their love for acting, etc., all while they put on a production of The Tempest. Scenes from Shakespeare’s Tempest are therefore interwoven into the play, and sometimes I admit I had a hard time understanding what was going on (the many time skips/flashbacks didn’t help on this point lol). Honestly I should have read the plot synopsis ahead of time, but because I assumed it was just the basic Tempest I didn’t bother– oops. 

There were points where I was quite invested and moved, but overall I wouldn’t say the flow of the story was particularly great. However, my experience was also limited by my intermediate Japanese, and I’m sure a lot of it went over my head. 

I think all of the actors did an amazing job! Imata Taira was definitely a highlight, and he portrayed a very troubled, grieving, angry character with artfulness and incredible intensity. Seeing him, along with Yazaki and Shogo in person, was absolutely unreal. As a long time Hakuouki fan, going from first seeing them on my computer in Hakumyu 8 years ago to watching them in person in Japan is a dream come true. 

Now, let’s get to the most exciting part– I MET IMATA TAIRA!!! AND SPOKE TO HIM!!!! AHHH! Basically after the show there was a special line where you could go to buy a piece of merch and talk to Taira for a moment. I had no idea they would be doing this so I hadn’t prepared anything to say to him, and I was SO nervous!! Turns out I needn’t have worried though, because Taira is such a lovely person and it was a great interaction. First of all, when the person in front of me moved on and I stepped up, Taira’s eyes went comically wide and he let out a gasp. I was expecting some level of surprise because I was a foreigner (blue eyes, red hair, etc.) at a completely Japanese play, but he was seriously taken aback. I spoke to him entirely in Japanese, of course, and thanked him for a wonderful performance, but he was just kinda scrambling for words and saying stuff like “Ah I’m so sorry I don’t know English!!”. He was so sweet and even bowed and put his head to the table and apologized for not knowing English T-T. I told him that even though my Japanese isn’t great, the power of theater is such that you don’t need to understand the words to be moved, and he thanked me again and even gave me his best “thank you!” in English too! He was so incredibly kind and genuine, and I found his reaction to be hilarious. It seemed like he was just as nervous to speak to me as I was to speak to him! Absolutely amazing experience!!!! The whole thing still feels absolutely unreal to me. I never thought I would have the opportunity to actually speak to one of the actors who has meant so much to me over the years. What a wonderful way to start off 2024 :) 

If anyone wants to chat about the play or has any questions about seeing it, feel free to PM anytime!

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 297, Replies Part 1

1) “Now what happened in BNHA again? Oh right, Horikoshi killed Midnight and Suya now will have to marry Zeus or Hades. Also Bakugo died and Jeanist pulled a jesus, but all that is a bit farther back. But the most important… We lost Mr. Compress Ass. RIP in piece, the buttocks got atomized. Now, let us grief this event, on Chapter 297: Tartarus.”-Appropriate, that we pick up at the place named for the afterlife, given how many have died over the course of this war and how may villains proceed to get “resurrected” into the storyline here.

2) “Ah, right, AfO is still in the deepest parts of Hell, but not for long I suppose.

Time for a great escape?”- Not just his singular escape, but a “great” escape, in the meaning of “large, massive, overwhelming” for everyone

3) “Huh, prison for a mutant in a island away from the mainland, the golden gate bridge… Are we X-men now?”- It’s as much about practicality as any shout-outs, though I don’t doubt those were also a factor. With all the varied and destructive Quirks contained inside the prison walls, building the place to take advantage of a naturally hostile environment (fairly sure the currents around japan are very rough and easy to drown in if you fall in) that also has the advantage of limiting the abilities of any escapees trying to flee the walls fits into both a cost-cutting mindset as well as providing a force that few Quirks can overpower- not even AFO had a 100% guarantee he’d survive if exposed to the harsh underwater pressures below sea level.

For all the godlike stunts they can pull off, it also serves as a reminder that the being who wield these powers are still fragile humans, and easily capable of dying in the right circumstances.

4) “Now, the problem is coming from outside, or from the inside? Because I bet that AfO can`t wait to feel the sun on his potato skin, he’d probably be stirring trouble for fun

Or not, a king stays at his throne after all.”- Technically, it’s Both! And because of his unique situation, both AFOs can take turns sitting on the throne whilst the other goes out to fight the heroes. Never giving another the opportunity to ever actually seize what is “his”, the role of the ultimate villain of the story, even if Tomura has some choice words for him about that, now the pretences are falling away…

5) “Well, it seems to be coming from the outside, so it’s definitely Shigaraki- or at least his body- coming all this way.”-  These guards have some baller designs, and they’re obviously experienced as the front-line guardmen of Tartarus. So it’s telling as to how unfairly overpowered Tomura and his remaining retinue are now, that they last about all of 20 seconds against them, even with the backup of several Armoured Core mechs. They didn’t even die to Tomura, but one of the Near High-Ends (evidenced by Briareos’ body still being intact) showing that these things are still city-levelling threats even if they’re not on the perfected version’s level and in lesser numbers to boot! 6) “If this is Shigaraki then I’m sorry but a code red will be useless, you’re gonna need one of them shrimp colors to represent how fucked the situation is”- Gyges and Briaeros are the names of the Hecatoncheires from Greek myth, fitting with Tartarus’ name and their multi-armed design. It makes me wonder if those are their actual names or just code-names chosen for the front-line defenders of the prison that happened to align with them by sheer coindicence.

7) “…and thus the Stygian depths were cracked apart. Hell is empty, for all the demons have left.”- It’s not the only thing that’s cracking apart. Izuku and the other’s efforts weren’t totally for nothing, it’s only Tomura’s insane healing factor and his willpower that’s holding his body together in rough shape at this point, and every time he strains himself with another Quirk, it threatens to push him past the breaking point and into a blob of viscera. AFO’s retreat was cowardly and disrespectful to the loyalty shown to him, but he’s not totally unfounded to claim that Tomura had had enough fighting, even if his “protégé” disagrees.

8) “Now for real, you guys don’t even have a self-destruct button? C'mon man, all the worst and most dangerous villains and you don’t even have a way to stop them from escaping?”- To be fair to them, I’m pretty sure there is a “breach the walls” button that floods the whole prison from the bottom up, letting the ocean in to drown them like rats – and their electronic defences are sufficiently high enough that even Tomura’s EMP blast wouldn’t have disabled that. It’s just the unknowable spiritual factor of these connecting Quirks between master and apprentice that gave AFO the insight needed to know when and how to best disable that option and prevent them from using it. 9) “Oh, sorry guys, but I don’t think Machia is gonna be able to come. There won’t be a place for him by sunrise I’m afraid.”- Not to mention, there’s the whole issue of storing him (giant-sized) in the first place, let alone questioning the fact that the likely “final resort” of flooding the prison might not even kill him, given how long he can endure hazardous conditions. Frankly, AFO could be stored in the prison because he’s still roughly humanoid-shaped, but Machia just might be uncontainable because he’s got too much raw strength for any structure to contain – and no self-preservation instinct to hold it back even if in a situation like smashing apart the walls keeping the ocean out. 10) “I mean, is he? He was, one day, but after what AfO did to him, I don’t think that’s the case anymore, he’s more like a tool for that monster, there’s no way to save him I’m afraid. And keeping him alive will just allow AfO to use him once he gets out- which is gonna happen in ten minutes I suppose.”- That leads to another moral question, in that, how responsible for his actions is Machia? His intelligence is so low that he doesn’t even seem to care or consider any social norms like even some bizarre-looking Hetromorphs out there do. Everything he does, he does because he’s been “trained” to recognise every order AFO gives him as “good” and anything else is worthless. The guy doesn’t seem to have any real empathy in him for the deaths he’s caused, in much the same way you don’t care about stepping on ants – he simply doesn’t register them at all, neither desiring their deaths, nor caring about any that do. The guy’s mentally broken on some level and is just another tool in AFO’s arsenal, but there’s really no way back for him, because he doesn’t seem to have ever been “normal” at any point we’ve seen. And of course, the secondary issue is that his sheer durability means that we need to resort to weapons of mass destruction to stand a hope of seriously injuring him, which also likely would have the side-effect of weakening his bonds if an explosion didn’t fully kill him, potentially leading to an escape. And that’s all without considering whether or not Japan will even have the option to use said weapons before AFO’s done today… 11) “Wow man, easy there. Those people are monsters, but they are still human, and that’s the scary part. That thing about dehumanizing those that are against you making you unable to see you can become just like them was not taught at your school, right?”- True, but on the other hand, given that they’ve got psychos like Muscular and Moonfish locked up here (who seem both hedonistically compelled to commit acts of brutal violence on another every waking day out of boredom) and criminals implicitly worse than them, you can see how a guy whose inhuman, because the alternative is admitting that there’s an innate violence within everyone that’s just looking for an avenue to show itself @thelreads

[the-firebird69]

A son stayed in a hotel in Japan the room size was this. He said he didn't mind it he had a couple trouble with a couple things the bed was too small and it didn't have a window this one does and it's nice you need to have a window and it had some amenities but really in here you could put a hot plate and a refrigerator and ATV air conditioning you can see that it does have those things in it. Window this is how we wanna build them and we'll use camper furniture so there's room and they're less expensive and they do have a ton of TV's and they have those type of VAV box for air conditioning and the windows here looks like they're fixed I would like operable windows and you just let them open in a little but this is ideal for a lot of people who travel you don't need a big room as a matter of fact the small room is more comfortable for people now big rooms sometimes they don't l.... now big rooms sometimes they don't like and our son was in big rooms in China and hated it and he'd rather have a small room. Makes you feel secure In some cities in some cases this would be an apartment and people don't like to think about it but if you have to live somewhere and don't have money it is a life saving measure. We wanna make these modular in other words there'd be several different apartment sizes in the same complex and you could get a two bedroom or a one bedroom and there would be probably a size limit but really we would make it different sizes and probably the top floor would be like two or three bedroom with a full kitchen and things like that but those will be modular too and with smaller furniture and you could move up as you increase in rank and it's a nice thing to do. But but these would go together in a day it will the foundation and site work in a week and with a pouring in a day all these would be installed and hotel and then you can close it all in in two weeks you have an apartment complex and he suggested we start building them so we designed a couple based on the furniture and things we got out of a whole bunch of new campers that are the same make and we said we have to modify the furniture but in the future we won't have to but we have to set up anyways so we set up a factory to modify the furniture and we need personnel this is part of the camper program and Hera and Zues ohh gothis is all my name that was mes this is all are part of the lead. Put their names on it and she said to contact her and have her help out with each step and we know what you mean the steps are when we started or when we're getting the factories put together or designing the factories and we're starting the other way around we're going to go ahead and do this now.

Frank Castle hard castle

Well they're arguing and making fun of people and it's not going to be great later but good there's a lot of little bugs flying around in these kind of few probably most of them so it shouldn't be that bad but they really need to get on the stuff there not so we're gonna try and help out there. These ideas are great I have seen this before yeah because he came up with it but other people came up with the idea. And you can expand apartments and expand hotels and that's kind of the idea and if they shrink in business and it's like that for awhile you move a bunch of it away instead of closing the facility. Is a wonderful idea and it's a wonderful time for it to happen so we're moving out and we're gonna get it done.

Thor Freya

This is one of the best ideas I've ever heard the Micro Hotel idea the Micro apartment in the modular it is intense it'll fit a ton of people we needed now and it is great to have larger ones it is wonderful. I'm wondering how you gonna feel the facility and say what do you mean feel it or develop power generation and yes and you could put solar on the roof and a lot of people like that it saves a lot of money and it does there's a lot of solar programs in which you do it and we should start the energy program and it will be for factories for cities for housing automobiles and it's important he says because we need to attach to it immediately emergency method of building a rapidly factors if we're going to run out of oil we do know when that will be approximately and we are going to start doing it now. And he thinks we lot for the input. And he says he's getting kinda beat up and he needs me to send troops in Chinese Vietnamese these guys need to get here is hardly any of them and it's true too they gotta see what's going on. We're gonna start doing that and I appreciate the help he says no I appreciate the help LOL

Zig Zag

He says he's swamped inundated can't think too straight sometimes but he's doing OK now but it's health there's too many of these bugs too many these people are jerks and doesn't have funding but we are going to work on that they said that they did not reimburse Washington but they actually did and it's not on his ledger is not true either people found it and so they're full of crap and just doesn't happen for awhile and he submitted it and they cut him a check and it was the first Continental Congress and they had pride about themselves back then.

Apollo and Goddess Wife

Olympus

good

Hera

[orcashiki]

Day 0

I don't like airports. I don't like traveling. And yet, I find myself, once again, in the airport to go to another country.

I'm always really stressed about the trip until I'm past security and the plane is in the air. Then it's a magical void unbothered by time and space where I dive into the world of games, or in this case, draw a million things and then some.

Despite being a mostly empty flight, somehow I scored a window seat with another passenger next to me. He asked to be moved to the row in front so we could each have a whole row to ourselves, though.

I took Japan Airlines for the first time, and their food is okay. Apparently you can get miso soup as well, but I declined each time in anxiety. I'd like to try it when I fly back. I've always wondered if airplane food being bland in general is due to the altitude. Something about higher altitude requiring more salt? Don't quote me on that, though. It's pure conjecture on my part.

I've decided I prefer window seats now. I used to grab middle seats because I didn't really need to leave my seat, and I wanted to avoid getting up to let people out. Then a couple flights ago, two people of larger stature sandwiched me into half of my seat. Thankfully it was a domestic flight, so it was only 6 hours, but ever since I've tried to get window seats instead. If the person next to me decides to spread and take my space again, there's a bit more space at the window. The view is also very pretty.

At baggage claim, the security dog beelined to my backpack. They asked me if I had any fruit or meat products, and I told them there was only a breakfast blueberry muffin from the airport... When I took off my mask later at the hotel, I got hit by a wall of blueberry. The blueberry muffin must have had some really strong stuff, since my backpack still smells like it.

On the plane I was using English, but I told myself to talk to people in Japanese starting from customs. The customs people all spoke very clearly, as did the airport train clerk. I managed to get to my station without too much trouble, although as always I was very scared that I might've gotten on the wrong train.

When I reached the hotel, the doors were closed. I called front desk over the intercom, and a man picked up and said... something.

My mind blanked.

I defaulted to English, "Hi, I have a reservation..."

There was a pause, before the man said, "check in?" in a heavy Japanese accent.

And I was in. He went to find an employee who spoke English, and that person was very polite while walking me through everything. He also answered all of my strange foreigner questions as I looked around the apartment with wide eyes. The appliances still look a bit like black magic to me, but I'm sure I'll get familiar with them eventually.

[authorautumnbanks]

How To Tame A Sorcerer (58)

Series Master list

Satoru rolls over and props his head up with his palm. He traces an infinity symbol into Kagome's cheek. His fiancé. If he had a choice, which he likes to think that he does, she'll soon be his wife. They just need to get on a plane tomorrow and plan a quick destination wedding. He smiles softly, despite the anxiety thrumming through his veins.

Halloween.

His least favorite holiday. One in which every curse and curse user likes to mingle with all the unsuspecting civilians gathered together. And this year, the death of two students weighs heavily on his chest. They weren't even his responsibility, but he feels like something should have been done. As a whole, the jujutsu world is cold. It does not help that Gakuganji once again tried pinning everything on Yuji.

Have some curses become bolder? Sure. But the sutras they had wrapped around Sukuna's fingers were - are fading. That is not on Yuji.

It's just a fucked-up situation.

Satoru huffs.

"That better be a sigh of bliss," Kagome mumbles, nuzzling closer to his hand. "Pre-marital bliss." She laughs to herself.

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that her joke is not funny, though his heart jumps at the thought of them being practically married. Even Sesshomaru acknowledges that they are mates. For whatever reason, Sesshomaru's acknowledgment actually means something to him. Maybe it is because he can tell that Sesshomaru is strong. He has to be if they consider him the lord of demons.

Man, what he would give just to fight Sesshomaru just once to see how he stacks up against an ancient demon. He wonders just how old Sesshomaru is. Sometimes Shippo says some things that remind him that despite their youthful appearance, these demons are really freaking old.

"You're cute." He pinches her cheek. "Almost as cute as me."

"Oh, whatever." Kagome rolls over to her side. Satoru dips his head and kisses her neck; his hands caress her growing bump. "Tickles."

Kagome brushes his hands away, but he puts his hands right back where they belong. He does not think he will ever tire of touching her. Even if it is just a hand on her back, he just needs it as much as he needs air to breathe. Kagome is in his veins and he would not have any other way.

"I'll probably be late tonight. Halloween - all holidays really are pain." These days, he gets home late every day, but tomorrow they will be on a first-class ticket to somewhere far, far away from Japan. Probably the wrong time to be taking a vacation with all the shit going on, but if there's anything he's learned over the years is that there is always a problem that needs solving. Though this year he can delegate and not have to worry too much about the troubles his students might get into. That Shippo is turning out to be a pretty handy fox to keep around.

"That reminds me!" Kagome shimmies out of his hold and pulls out a necklace from the nightstand. "I got you something." She holds up the necklace. Now he can see that it is a locket.

Wait. He squints at it.

"Is this enchanted? It has your same glow." He sits up and takes it from her. It's gold and in the shape of a heart. Their names are etched onto both sides.

When did she buy this? He doesn't pay too much attention to the amount of money she spends, but surely, he would have noticed a jewelry purchase. Satoru runs his hands along the locket. This had to go for a hefty price. The craftsmanship is practically jumping off of the locket.

"Yep! It's made from my hair since I couldn't exactly donate one of my teeth to make it."

"I'm sorry what? His mouth drops open in shock and he can't do anything but stare at her.

Kagome beams at him, practically preening at her confession. She made this with her hair?

"Back up a second. What do you mean you made it from your hair? And teeth?"

The heck is she talking about? He wills the locket to share its secrets with him because there is absolutely no way that she had a locket made with her hair. Unless she put her hair inside of it? He pops it open, but the only thing inside is a picture of them on one side and a picture of their baby on the other.

He smiles despite himself seeing the life that they created. Satoru never imagined that he would be a father or even in a relationship, for that matter, but Kagome makes it hard to not love her.

"I didn't make it from my teeth, silly. I can't regrow my teeth like Sesshomaru and the others. So, I used my hair."

Gojo shuts his mouth and squints.

That explains the haircut.

"I wanted to give you a little more protection. And I know you're the strongest, but it would make me feel better knowing that you have some extra protection, just in case."

His heart skips a beat and then speeds up to regain its natural rhythm. She got him a gift that can help protect him? He clutches the locket. "Did you ask Sesshomaru to make it?"

"Oh, no." She laughs. "Sesshomaru is great at a lot of things, but sword making and such is so not his thing. I asked him if Totosai was around, so he took me to see him. Sesshomaru got a sword made, too, but he said it was not for him." Kagome leans in and whispers, "I think he's got a crush or something. He gave Totosai a tooth to have a special sword made."

Sesshomaru with a crush? Satoru grits his teeth to stop the laughter from bubbling over. Kagome looks so happy and earnest at this latest find, so he just let's her continue to gossip about who this mystery woman could be.

"She must be the complete opposite of him. I could not imagine him going for someone that says so few words. Nah, someone would have to be the talkative one of the pair."

"Maybe it is a gift for the baby?" He puts the locket on and gives a one shoulder shrug at her stupefied expression. "What? Shippo said that Sesshomaru was going to give the kiddo a dragon egg. Which dragons don't exist, right? Shippo was just fucking with me?"

"There are dragons. Though I'm surprised that Sesshomaru has an egg. Maybe Ah Un laid one?" She taps her finger to her lips. "I don't know that much about them. Maybe two headed dragons are just different."

... Two headed? Now his head hurts. How is he supposed to explain a dragon? He's still dodging questions about what kind of power Kagome has.

"But why would he give the baby a dragon egg? Where the heck would we even hide one of those? They are massive. And last I checked, they cannot shrink like Buyo Jr." Kagome continues to rant, all the while Satoru feels more dread building up in his gut.

Seriously, how is he supposed to hide a freaking dragon?

"And then Megumi-kun will take it and then we would have to figure out how to keep other people from worrying about why he has a dragon."

Megumi? Satoru coughs. Someone is still a little peeved that Buyo Jr. chose Megumi over them.

"We might look into rebuilding the clan house. There would be enough room for a dragon there." He hopes. The only thing he has to go off on is the dragons that he has seen in the media. "If you don't mind taking over that project."

"You want me to rebuild your clan house?"

"You'll be a Gojo soon. Not that I don't like we're we live, but if we are getting a freaking dragon or whatever creature your friends want to give to us, then we should probably look into a more secluded home."

While they are at it, maybe he will ask her to bless the area. Something about living in a spot where his clan members were brutally murdered seems like prime real estate for curse activity.

Kagome scrunches up her nose. He may not be a mind reader, but he can tell what kind of thoughts are running rampant in her mind. She has gotten more comfortable using his money- their money - but there are still times where she hesitates.

"It just seems really expensive, and you paid a lot of money for this house."

"Yeah, don't worry about a budget. I'll get you connected with a builder and you can go from there. The only thing I request is a similar bathroom set up." Finding a bathtub that can accommodate him can be difficult. Satoru leans over and kisses her cheek. She worries too much about such trivial things such as money. He has way more money than he could ever spend with being a special grade sorcerer and then having access to the Gojo clan's resources.

Money is the least of their worries.

"Well... okay," she says, though he can tell that she is still a little unsure.

"It would mean so much to me knowing that you are building the home for our children and their children."

"Aren't you going to be late for work?" Kagome huffs. The blush spreads across her face and dips down to her cleavage. It's crazy to him how flustered she gets.

"You're so cute." This time, he kisses her lips before sliding out of bed. He really, really, does not want to go into work today. He would rather get on the plane to their destination. Which he still does not know where they are going. Kagome said it was a surprise. He would follow to the south pole if she chose. Just as long as he is with her, he does not care where they are.

Satoru grabs his phone from his nightstand and pinches the bridge of his nose. A Shibuya kind of day, huh? He yawns and sets the phone back down. "Any plans for today?" he asks on his way to the bathroom. Go for causal, he tells himself. Up to him, he would have her stay in the house, but he knows if he tells her not to do something, the more likely she is to do that something.

Kagome is stubborn. She's lucky she is so cute.

"Sesshomaru mentioned going out because it is the one day that they do not have to wear their glamor out in public. I think they like to believe that they are getting over on the unsuspecting humans."

Satoru splashes water on his face. Makes sense. But he does not like it. "Cool, so you two are just gonna go sightseeing then?" He grabs his toothbrush and brushes his teeth.

"Yep! I'll even get to have my bow and no one will bat an eye," she replies, with so much joy in her voice that he keeps his concerns to himself. Sesshomaru would not let anything happen to Kagome, that much he knows.

"You gon wear a priestess outfit without me?" he asks, his voice slightly muffled from the toothbrush in his mouth.

Kagome sticks his head into the bathroom. "Is that code for role play? Big, bad, sorcerer, corrupts the pure priestess."

Satoru barks out a laugh. There is nothing pure about the things she does, but because he values his life, he keeps that opinion to himself as well. Rinsing his mouth, he reaches for a towel to wipe his face.

"Keep it up and I'll call in sick."

"You never get sick, remember?" Kagome laughs and side steps his attempt to grab her.

Tease.

It was not as though he was gonna bend her over the bathroom counter or anything, because he totally was - he still could...

His phone rings, forcing his thoughts to float away into the shoulda coulda box in his mind. "Seriously," he mumbles, hitting the light switch on his way out. Satoru hits the end button and shoots off a text to Ijichi instead.

One would think that Ijichi would know by now that he cannot be rushed. He'll start his day when he feels like it.

"Be nice to Ijichi," Kagome yells from downstairs and he's tempted to teleport to where Ijichi is just to bully him.

"I'm always nice." He trots down the stairs and heads towards the kitchen. "Coffee," he says, staring longingly at the coffee pot. "Join me in the bath after?"

Kagome snorts. "The faster you go in, the faster you'll get off, and the faster we'll be on the plane."

She's got him there.

"But we could meet up for lunch and you can see my outfit."

He pauses. Any other day he would agree without question, but today when something always wants to pop off? Ugh. "Maybe...my schedule is pretty packed today. I don't know if I'll have much of a lunch break today."

Kagome frowns and places her hands on her hip. "You don't want to get lunch with me?"

"I didn't say that." He jumps at the coffee pot dinging and grabs two mugs for them. "I'm just saying that we should play it by ear."

His phone rings again.

Can he just enjoy his morning?

"What?" he answers, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder while he prepares his and Kagome's coffees. He puts just a hint of sugar in Kagome's mug. Just because he likes a lot of sugar in his coffee, doesn't mean his baby should be getting a lot.

"We really need to get to Shibuya," Ijichi says, his voice just barely wavering. "I'm outside your house."

Satoru rolls his eyes. As if he didn't know Ijichi was outside his house.

"Like now? I've got at least another hour before work." Satoru winks at Kagome, ignoring the pang in his chest.

"Someone stole the bodies of Miwa and Mechamaru and strung them up outside the station."

"Sounds like someone is getting into the spirit of Halloween," he quips and exchanges his mug for a travel one instead. "I haven't even taken a bath yet."

"You take your baths at night," Kagome says.

"Gome-chan!" he admonishes, though he's sure Ijichi couldn't hear her. "Anyway, I'll be out. Give me a moment." He ends the call. Why didn't Ijichi open with that the first time? That is some shit you need to tell someone instead of pussyfooting around and saying we need to go to Shibuya today.

"Everything okay?"

"Hmm, yeah. Everything is fine. I just gotta go in early." He takes a big gulp of his coffee and grimaces from the scalding liquid. "Send me a picture of your outfit." He heads out of the kitchen without waiting for her answer.

Whoever stole those bodies must work for jujutsu high. Or they've been there before. Old students?

Satoru changes out of his pajamas and slides on his uniform. Tying his blindfold on as he walks, he takes two steps at a time.

Kagome greets him at the end of the staircase with his coffee and bento box. She must have prepared one for him last night.

"Here, just in case you can't make time for lunch," she says.

"You're too sweet to me," he admits, more so to himself. Most sorcerers live lonely lives and the ones that do have spouses tend to spur them, so to come home every day to a home filled with warmth feels like he hit the jackpot.

"Hey Gome-chan?"

Kagome tilts her head. Her hand hovers over the door.

"Do me a favor and stay out of Shibuya today." He presses a kiss to lips, silencing the protests he knows she was about to unleash on him. "I'll call you if I can make it for lunch."

Kagome pouts and opens the door for him. Ijichi stands upright by the car, engrossed in whatever conversation he is having on the phone.

"Promise me," he says, not helping himself.

"Yeah, yeah." Kagome waves him off. "Stay safe."

"Don't worry, I'm the strongest." The words roll off his tongue effortlessly.

Why should he worry? No one can touch him after all, and as long as Kagome stays far away from trouble, then everything will be just fine.

[bbiemochi]

HII so can i maybe request rei sakuma and a reader who’s like mafuyu asahina from project sekai? i mean like a reader who like acts hapoy n stuff but mentally they don’t feel that way :3 sososososo sorry if it seems like this doesn’t make sense 😞

𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 | rei sakuma x reader

[an]: I’M SO SORRY IF THIS TOOK LONG ToT literally goddamn, is my inbox filled with unfinished requests and i’m literally going to sob. anyways, yes, mafuyu our depressed emo child, i miss playing pjsekai tbh i quit a long time ago because i was lacking storage 🥹🥹 nonetheless, tysm for requesting! hope u like it <33

summary: rei knew how pressuring of being the gifted child really is. and he knew that ever since he spent more time with you.

pairing: rei sakuma x pressured gifted kid!fem!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end

***

IF THERE WERE A FEW things rei knew so well about his girlfriend, is that she was the most prettiest and wisest person he knew so far in his life. most boyfriends would think so, in fact from rei’s point of view—he had never been more in love than before. however, for as far as he can remember, there are these small things he takes note from your personality.

always at the top of your class, you had never once received a failing grade in either of your subjects, with repeatedly getting a 100 score on your tests and performance tasks, heck, you even got voted as the class representative. you were popular amongst not only the teachers, but with students as well because of your vast intelligence, and also with your looks. because of this, your parents decided to move you in one of the most prestigious private academies in all of japan, yumenosaki academy, where all dreams bloom. they had very high expectations for you, building your future by their own hands without your approval and pushing every bit of talent to learn down to your throat. you felt like a puppet being pulled by a string, two people laughing with the thought of their daughter being able to make their future possible covering their vision. this was ist from behind the curtain, before pulling it for others to see of how you looked alright, even if it was clear you were only pretending to be.

despite acting like an idiot with that persona of his that hid his true nature, rei was intelligent, and once an intelligent noticed the dots connecting, there was no turning back. how your eyes never shined like before after talking to someone who asked for advise, how your smile never matches the way your irises lit up when looking at somebody, and how you were always bombarded with other students to tutor them even if you were busy yourself. just with simple actions within the audience can be counted as a clue…since rei knew the feeling too well.

rei was only one of the few who had noticed.

“isn’t y/n-san so smart? she helped me almost score a perfect on my exams today!”

“gah, how i wish i were her! smart, pretty, always getting perfect scores, talk about lucky!”

maintaining a perfect image for yourself and your reputation in public. a perfect daughter anyone could ever ask for. even if that perfection couldn’t reach the emotional distress you’ve kept to yourself these past years that went on.

when rei first met you after you were switched in the producer course, everyone had liked you immediately. of course, this was because you were the ‘perfect’ producer anyone could ever ask for. even the first producer; anzu was asking from you from time to time for advise. everyone thinks: ‘oh that won’t be any trouble for y/n-san! she’s wise, anyways! she’ll know what to do!’ when rei would mention your name to ask if you could do extra work for his unit. it made him feel bad…wonders if you were actually doing just ok as they say you would be.

not long after, rei unexpectedly fell for you.

as quicker than the ice melts, it didn’t take long for you to notice his odd signals for romance and affection. even without the hints from hakaze and the other third years, it was quite obvious to everyone’s gazes that rei was indeed infatuated with you. you were used to people having crushes on you due to your reputation, you weren’t even sure how many confessions was given to you in a span of months—yet, you know how to handle this situation smoothly.

or not…

sir kunigi requested for you to take one last look at the training room for 2wink to see if the missing files were piled up in that room, however, according to hinata the files were nowhere to be seen, and it was dead end. the older aoi twin was in a small rush in order to catch up with his younger twin brother who was currently in a bad mood, probably about the canceled live announcement from the student council members.

because of it, it seems as you had no choice but to redo the piles of task printed out once again. kunigi was stern to tell you that those documents were important for the idols, and that losing them would become a big deal (in which it did). this was the first time you ever lost something important, your image of maintaining perfection became a slump of dough at that moment when kunigi insisted to let anzu take care of the problem instead. it made you feel disappointed at yourself, so you kept telling your teacher you didn’t want to add anzu more work on her table, that you could do it again and that it was alright.

“alright,” he sighs, “just make sure this time you won’t lose it. this is the first time i ever seen you lose your focus. apologies if the producer work is pressuring you, but you should be careful next time.”

“i-it’s fine, sir..! i’m getting used to it after all, only me and anzu-chan are the only available producers here at this course. i really am sorry for losing it…” you sent him your signature smile, eyes beaming on him as you hugged an empty folder right in your chest. kunigi smiles back, before watching you walk out of his office.

thank god all of that was over…

as you slowly opened your eyes, the light that once appeared from your irises dissolved into an abyss of emptiness, the smile that once lined up over your mouth was drawn into a thin line, expressing a nonchalant look. this was getting so tiring already, could they add more work to this mess? it was your parents who had suggested you to enroll in yumenosaki academy and choose the producer course for you, saying producer work for idols earn a whole lot of money and that it could help ‘support’ your family. as if they weren’t pressuring you enough. you didn’t dream to do this…in fact, you had no idea what your dream was.

not like it was your choice to decide at the first place.

the hallway was empty (thank god it was), you slowly walked back to the empty classroom you were currently staying at and doing your work there alone. the schedule in which you printed before (and went missing) was still saved in your laptop, and all was needed was to be inked out of the printer. you had to ask keito if he had more ink since this was all out, there were far too many files to document due to the low numbers of producers in your course. papers were lying messily beneath your desk, and your expression was still empty despite all this circulating problems being piled up over yourself. you were just used to it. not like this was getting any different from before.

‘i should ask over the student council if they have any spare ink for the printer…i need to get this task done before sunset…’ was what your thoughts said as your dark eyes looked over at the remaining documents displayed over your laptop screen. after this one you and anzu still had to plan for the upcoming idol festivals to be needed by tomorrow for new years. ahh…how tiring. however, this is how work should go. before you could head out the door in order to make your way towards the student council office, a familiar figure was already standing near the door frame, arms crossed and eyes gently closed when you turned around. this surprised you, of course.

“jesus christ, sakuma-san you scared me…” a pant escaped your lips in astonishment. fixing your posture, and once again giving him your signature smile, you spoke, “why are you still here? is there anything i can assist you with?” the politeness in your tone almost caught the undead leader off guard, however he keeps his stance. rei lets out a chuckle from this, “kuku, it is a specialty of mine as a vampire to scare humans. as such, little darling, is this what you’re looking for?” the male in front of you suddenly pulls out a paper from underneath his arm, showing it in front of your sight. it was the document that you and sir kunigi were looking for. a wide smile spreads across your face, hope signaling over your expression (for once).

thank god he found it.

“sakuma-san thank you so much! you’re a lifesaver…!” in a hurry did you ran towards his side, grabbing the paper from his hands and looking over at the printed file, making sure it was the original document you had printed an hour ago. it really was, and a wave of relief hits you. looking back at rei, you giggled happily, “thank you so much, b-but where did you find it?? i swore i checked every unit room…”

“it turns out yuta-kun had it the whole time. after the kids argued about something i wouldn’t dare to explain, yuta thought that the file he took was for the new rescheduling of 2wink’s live concert stadium. at first he planned to head over to the student council and ask tenshounin about why their live was canceled, but when he looked back at the file, turns out it was for another unit,” rei explains, smiling back at you. “he came to me looking for you, since the young lady was busy with trickstar at reimei academy at the moment, making arrangements with eden, he wanted the document handed over to you, little darling.”

“ah, how thoughtful of him. phew, at least i won’t be redoing the papers again…” you carefully placed the paper underneath a nearby folder along with the others, cleaning up your desk before turning back to rei. “thank you once again for bringing this over to me, it’s a real help, honest.” there was silence after that last reply, the atmosphere around the air grew awkward when rei didn’t reply for that whole minute. though you were really thankful he handed you over the missing documents, this kind of sheepish aura is making your legs all wobbly.

“w-well—

“this is the first time i have seen you smile for real, little darling.”

your head immediately perked up in astonishment. this is the first time he saw you smile for real? what in the world did he mean by that? has he seen through your hidden expressions among the idols? among the other teachers? friends? classmates? no, there was no way he could actually figure that out soon. you grew how to hide your feelings buried within you after all, you’re already a pro at this. smiling again with a faint laugh, you hugged the file tighter over your chest, “sakuma-san what do you mean by that? you really are an odd one,” ‘ok, this would probably set aside of whatever he’s thinking…this is my chance.’

you hurriedly walked aside your senior and prepared to head out towards the teacher’s office, when another of one of his sentences stopped you midway. “aren’t you feeling pressured?”

“…” that question made your eyes go dark. you looked at him again, this time without your signature smile, but a nonchalant look on your face. rei too looked back at you, however his expression seemed to be new to you, you’ve never seen him this serious before. “don’t you think you’re going overboard by doing what everyone expects you to do? don’t you have dreams yourself?”

“what would you know?”

your cold tone struck to him, yet he stands still. bingo, he got you where he wanted to. you’re quick to show your emotions when revealed. the once eyes that filled with hope and adorable sparkles in the world’s view, now turned into an empty shade of nothing. emotionless e/c eyes meet with his ruby pupils. “you’re just an idol. a weird chuuni vampire who knows nothing but sing and dance in front of the audience like a satisfaction tool. tell me, do you have dreams, sakuma?”

he grins, “of course i do. making my fans fill with smiles is my dream. i want the world to know that me and my unit can sing for them.” his answer was obvious, figures. you didn’t shift away from him for a moment, you continued to speak, honestly this time. “words of a true idol, i’ll give you that. but even so, what would you know of how i should maintain my image for everyone and my mother?”

“so you’re finally saying that you’re only doing this because your mother and everyone expects big of you?”

another wave of silence hit. you clenched your fists in annoyance. you had let your guard down…this was rei’s intention was it? he knew nothing, why would he? he’s just an idol and the leader of one of the most famous units in the academy—nothing more. why would he care? for a producer like you, he shouldn’t really be getting too close with you. that’s a rule. you shouldn’t let your blood boil because this guy is backing you up in a corner with no escape, he’s just an idol.

“y/n, you’re bring pressured by peers, carried by your parents’ expectations…being controlled of your own future…is this all ordinary for you?” no reply. your eyes were locked down on the school tiles, head empty as rei continuously spoke to you more. like shredding open a sealed cloth, rei knew the exact words to say. “little darling…”

“don’t come close..”

he ignores your plea, whilst walking even closer. you backed away, “i said don’t come closer, you know nothing of what…i’ve…” finger intertwining with yours, a soft to the touch emotion mixed with questionable feelings that whirled in the insides of your stomach, sort of like butterflies trying to make their escape from a sealed flower that’s ready to bloom. his eyes, dark blood eyes that dug holes into yours, you swore if you stared at them any longer your legs would begin to feel weak. “what…what are you…?” your voice couldn’t spit out a strong sentence unlike before, it came out as faint…and a little hoarse.

the space between you both closes…with your head being hugged between his arms, creating warmth in the atmosphere everywhere over your body. it radiates like a first summer burst, feelings of guilt, sadness and pressure drenched onto your skin. he had caught you…rei, had caught you. this type of affection…when was the last time you had felt it from a warm hug of a loving parent? it’s…incredible. such a great feeling.

it’s making you…a bit emotional. it pulls the rope even more when rei began stroking your hair, gently, soft hums and praises could be heard between the gusts of wind exiting out from the opened school windows. tears soon pricked beneath your eyelids, blurring your vision…as you slowly sobbed into rei’s chest. this was one of the things you promised to yourself; never breakdown in front of someone, or else you’d be burdening your feelings to them. it was better to keep them hidden no matter what. however, it seems like rei won this time when he manages to glove his way into your grey heart.

“shh…shh…it’s ok, little darling. you’re safe here…i’m here…”

“i-i’m so sorry…”

“it’s alright…”

“i didn’t mean to…”

“it’s ok, you’re ok…”

“don’t leave me…”

“hm?”

“don’t leave me all…alone…”

“hush…i won’t…i’m here…i love you..”

***

a/n: I MEANT TO POST THIS ON CHRISTMAS BUT OH WELL. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE ! <33 💗💗🎄

[chuuyrr]

What's baby fushiguro's origin?

gojo finds out the truth about scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader

jujutsu kaisen x reader

masterlist of the series

warning(s): possible spoilers for wandavision, or the scarlet witch in general

bear in mind that this is a crossover. some information might overlap or even change because this is a work of fiction, you can say it is an alternate universe <3 (so pls be nice and dont attack me for it)

gojo learned about your existence right before toji breathed his last, right when he already had taken custody of megumi after toji intended to sold his son to the zenin clan. by that time, megumi was mature and old enough. you, however, were still a baby.

if it's something that toji fushiguro had failed to do, it would be telling satoru gojo of your origin. the real story behind you; your real power and bloodline. you could say that he left gojo an enigma to solve on his own.

at first, gojo's initial thoughts were, 'oh god, another child for me to take in.'

he never really intended to get attached to you in the first place. it's not like you were actually his. you just needed a father-figure to raise and guide you, but the moment when you held his finger? all ever saw was innocence, warmth and love from you.

"alright, i'll look after you." a smile graced gojo's lips as he cradled you in his arms.

you suddenly squealed, eliciting a happy noise at him. "daddy!"

"what? no! i'm your uncle, i am not your dad!" although gojo specifically made that clear, it was obvious that his heart and mind said otherwise.

raising you was no trouble. just like how he did with megumi, gojo was able to get financial support for you too. you grew up to be a bubbly child who'd always stick to him. gojo eventually came to love you and finally let you acknowledge him as your father, not as an uncle. though he wondered if toji was cursing at him from six feet under, toji did say to look after you, but did it mean for him to stand up as your father now? gojo knows for a fact that toji loved you.

he learned that toji intended to sell you at first, but he didn't continue to do so. toji loved you so much that he wanted you to live a good life. toji didn't want to repeat the same mistakes. so, he did what was best for you.

days had passed since you exhibited your real power at jujutsu high. after a lot of arguments and convincing power against the higher ups, gojo was able to keep you out of their mess. however, they asked gojo to find out the truth behind you because they saw you now as a threat. if they can't have you or have you executed either, then it only means you were a danger to them.

so, that's what gojo did. his days worth of trips became weeks. gojo even traveled outside of japan, desperately trying to trace back your origin to find any information about your power and after some time, he eventually did find something. in a strange church-like place, outside of japan.

gojo met a strange old woman while he was searching for the origin of your powers. for some reason, she knew about you and how gojo was exactly looking for answers.

"how do you know [name]? who are you?" gojo cautiously asked the short, white haired woman that was holding a black cat in her arms. "are you her grandmother perhaps?"

"grandmother? i am not related to that child you have with you, young man." she stated calmly.

gojo swallowed thickly, watching as the woman summon a book from thin air. "what do you know about my daughter?"

"many things actually, your daughter exists in vast range of multiverses." with that, images of you flashed before gojo's field of vision.

he saw a version of grown-up version of you with red hair along with an android of sort; and then there was another wherein you were appeared to be a teenager, you were with a young man with silver hair who looked similar to you. gojo assumed you had a twin; other versions consisted of you wearing a strange crown and dress of dark red; you living in a world with people that didn't have powers.

gojo took note how all of these versions of you didn't seem to be of japanese descent, and how you were named as wanda maximoff instead of [name] fushiguro.

"she's unique from the rest of her versions." the woman explained to gojo, dissipating all the images of your versions throughout the universe with a single snap of her fingers. "it intrigues me to find out what path she will take in this one. will she ask me to mentor her again? will she create another reality? who knows? it's exciting and frightening at the same time."

"what your daughter possesses is not cursed energy young man, she is not like your kind."

"then, what is she? who is she?" gojo was dying from anticipation.

before gojo could find the answer he was looking for, he woke up with a sharp gasp from his bed. the white haired man stressfully ran his fingers through his scalp, his crystalline eyes frantically looking left and right. everything he saw was a dream? but, the atmosphere and the old woman's presence felt real to him. how did he find his way back in japan? gojo thought for sure he left.

"your daughter is the scarlet witch. a being not born, but forged from chaos."

a voice whispered in his ear the moment he directed his gaze at your sleeping figure that was curled up like a cat against his side.

[thekentuckyhimbo]

Insatiable

Pairing: Jay White/OFC

Warnings: sexual references, implied sexual content, mentions of food and eating/hunger, swearing, physical violence

Words: 9k

Chapters: 7 Complete: Yes

Summary:

“What’s goin’ on with you, man?” Anderson asked, echoing Chris’s words from the previous week.

Jay shrugged. “Nothin’,” he replied coolly.

Anderson looked to Gallows for an answered, clearly not satisfied with Jay’s response.

“It’s a girl,” Gallows said matter-of-factly.

“Ahh,” Anderson nodded sagely.

Jay narrowed his eyes, looking between both of them. “There’s no girl,” he said flatly.

“Remember when I first met my wife,” Gallows told Anderson, pointedly ignoring Jay’s words. “I gained damn near thirty pounds.”

Anderson laughed at the apparent memory. Jay had no idea what either of them were talking about, if he were being honest.

“I haven’t gained any weight,” he protested. Admittedly, he hadn’t been on the scales in a while, but his abs were as defined as they’d ever been. That had to count for something.

“Man,” Anderson said, exasperated, “You could eat McDonald’s every meal of the day and you wouldn’t gain a pound.”

“That don’t mean you ain’t been eatin’ more,” Gallows added helpfully.

Jay thought about it. He had been hungry a lot lately. And he was contemplating his fifth slice of pie even as the Good Brothers called attention to his eating habits.

“I changed up my gym routine,” he said too quickly, wondering if the Good Brothers picked up on the waver he heard in his own voice.

“Sure you did,” Gallows replied with a smirk. The other man snatched the last slice of pie from in front of them before Jay could, letting out a low chuckle when Jay stared at the slice forlornly.

Anderson seemed to have picked up on Jay’s gaze as well, because he snorted.

“You’re down bad, huh man,” Anderson chuckled.

Notes:

Loosely follows current Bullet Club stuff, but don’t hold me to that

Chapter 1

Jay was hungry. It was a pang deep within his stomach that he'd felt creeping up on him since he got off his flight from Japan.

But his connecting flight left in ten minutes and this airport seemed to go on forever. Jay was walking briskly now, calves tight from hours spent cramped in an airline seat designed for a smaller body than his, his stomach growling in protest of yet more physical activity without a pitstop to refuel.

He pushed his bodily needs aside in his mind and disregarded them. Caught his reflection in a long window out onto the tarmac as he finally approached the gate for his flight. A couple more hours of rest on the flight, he thought, and then he could catch breakfast before the day's Impact tapings.

This was not to be, however, as the flight got delayed due to bad weather in their destination - Philadelphia. Jay texted the group chat to tell them he'll barely make it in time, while stuffing complimentary in-flight peanuts into his mouth. Disappointment and a string of frankly too many emojis from the Good Brothers followed, alongside a cool 'It is what it is, man' from Chris Bey.

By the time Jay got into the hotel in Philadelphia, he was on his way upstairs to throw down his bags while his fellow wrestlers were on their way downstairs to go to the arena. He flashed a tight smile at some of them on his way by.

Jay stuffed himself and his bag inside an elevator, the fluorescent lights harsh on his weary eyes. A woman stepped in after him, who Jay scanned up and down. She was wearing all black, t-shirt and jeans, a tattoo of some sort peaking out above her neckline, just below her hair.

Jay's stomach began to trouble him again then, and he remembered last night when he thought he'd have time to catch breakfast before the show. The woman got out on the same floor as him and Jay brushed past her. He was probably being a little rude, but to be fair he is in a hurry. He thought he heard something like her door clicking open as he opened his, but he didn't turn to look.

He frantically rushed to collect his things for the show, grateful he always packed prepared, and gave himself the momentary joy of a two minute shower so he didn't reek of aeroplane upholstery anymore.

By the time he was changed and slinging his duffle over his shoulder on the way out of his door, the woman from earlier was waiting for an elevator back down.

Jay felt calmed by the chocolate bar he snuck out of the bar fridge and this time gestured for her to enter the elevator first, flashing her a tight smile.

She stepped in and squeezed herself into the corner of the elevator, thigh against the handrail, doing her best to stay out of his way. He stood comfortably in the remaining space, wondering if he should apologise for earlier.

He thought better of it, reminding himself he's never going to see this woman again. Instead he slid his phone out of his back pocket and texted the group chat again.

What's the catering like? he asked, knowing the Good Brothers would know the answer by now.

I wouldn't bother if I was you, replied Doc with a green-faced emoji and several thumbs down.

Jay tilted his head back in defeat and stepped out of the elevator.

*

An hour later, Jay tilted his head back again, this time in an uncomfortable pleather seat as he waited for one of Impact's makeup girls to do his hair. He let his eyes fall shut for a precious moment but opened them a second later to the sound of a quiet tap on the table in front of him. A trestle table serving as a makeshift counter for makeup, spray tan, and a bunch of other "beauty" items he didn't recognise.

Sat before him was a fresh cup of coffee in a takeaway paper cup from catering. He assumed it was for the makeup girl, but in the mirror Jay could see that she was drinking hers. He assessed her for a moment before he decided to take the offered drink. Black t-shirt, black jeans, tattoo poking out above the neckline of her shirt.

Shit.

But Jay was tired, and the offered caffeine was too good not to take. Maybe she brought it as a peace offering because he'd scared her earlier, or maybe it was something she did for everyone. Either way, he'd take what he could get.

She didn't say much, but eventually offered her name gruffly.

"Winters," she said tersely, taking his hair in her hands and beginning to brush it.

There was something in her voice that hit Jay with a pang of familiarity. Something about her accent. She definitely wasn't American. But he was too busy lingering on the tone of her voice; she didn't sound impressed with him. And really, he couldn't blame her.

But his mind was already formulating excuses. He was in a hurry, his flight was delayed, he just came from halfway across the world. 'Surely you understand that this business is hard at the best of times,' he imagined saying to her.

But it was Winters who spoke first.

"Heard your flight got delayed," she queried, though her tone was still unimpressed.

Ah, there was the familiarity. She was Australian. She didn't sound like Tenille or The Iinspiration though; her accent was rougher and lower, like she was from the country. It reminded Jay of his own upbringing. A little slice of almost-home in the middle of a famed Philadelphia wrestling arena. Jay had spent so much of his adult life in wrestling arenas he sometimes forgot anything existed outside of it.

Despite her gruff demeanour her hands were remarkably gentle on his hair. He knew for a fact he hadn't brushed it in a week and yet he could hardly feel what she was doing as she detangled it.

Somewhere low in his belly he began to feel hunger creeping in again. The lifestyle of a New Japan wrestler didn't exactly leave much time to treat his body right, but usually Jay didn't feel quite this bad. Just a bad week, he figured.

"Don't they always," he said plainly, which seemed to kill all hope of a conversation.

Better this way, Jay reasoned, since his time would be better spent drinking his coffee anyway.

When he tasted it, he realised it was full of milk and sugar. Normally he would have protested, but he wasn't sure the girl who currently had a fistful of his hair in her hand would take kindly to it. Besides, if the way his stomach felt was any indication, he could use the calories.

Jay finished his coffee mere seconds before Winters finished his hair. He got up without saying much, leaving his coffee cup on the counter. He thought about thanking her for it, but by then hunger had once again settled in his stomach and he went blindly off in search of more crappy catering food.

Bullet Club's match that night went great - it really was his era - but something in Jay's body still felt off. Chris gave him a funny look after the match, when Jay declined their invitation to get dinner together. Jay just shrugged, ready to write it off as the rough travel day if any of them questioned it further.

But none of them said anything, and Jay ended up at a greasy restaurant a block down from the hotel, ordering enough food for three people. His stomach really wouldn't let up today.

Jay made his way slowly back to the hotel room and up the elevator yet again. He thought about Winters, wondering idly if that was a last name or a nickname.

As he fumbled around for his keycard, the 36 hours it had been since he'd last slept properly catching up with him, he heard a click behind him.

Had he remembered who he'd seen in this hallway earlier, he might have kept his back turned. But in his exhaustion he turned around, just in time to see blonde hair and an all-black outfit slip inside the door of the room opposite his.

Jay's stomach growled again and he shook his head clear of her.

Chapter 2

A quiet week was exactly what Jay needed. Nothing more than a few meet and greets, and plenty of time spent in his apartment were all he needed to forget about the chaos of the previous week. He'd home cooked nearly every meal he'd had all week, and every flight and uber had run seamlessly on time.

So when he got into the week's Impact tapings early he was buzzing. He floated on the balls of his feet, whistling lightly to himself as he wandered into a cafe near the hotel.

He got stuck behind a man who was being unreasonably specific about his breakfast order, but he didn't even mind. Jay's eyes flitted around the building, taking in its generic modern industrial furnishings. Jay often found a cafe's décor could tell you a lot about the quality of the food. From the exposed beams in the ceiling, to the naked Edison bulbs hanging down from them, he expected the food to be perfectly average.

Jay looked around, expecting to see faux brick wallpaper somewhere. The guy in front of him was taking an eternity, so Jay swivelled his head around to truly take in the surroundings. And yep, there on the wall behind him, the unconvincing texture of brick wallpaper.

After a moment Jay spotted a black silhouette against the faux brick. Black jeans, black t-shirt, blonde hair.

Jay snapped his head back towards the front of the line a little too quickly. She'd had her head in her phone, so thankfully she hadn't spotted him.

Just then, the man in front of him finally finished his order and Jay stepped to the front of the line. He made his order quick and painless, taking pity on the cashier. Ordering his coffee, he thought of Winters standing behind him.

"See the girl in all black behind me?" Jay asked the cashier quietly, leaning over the bench a little.

The cashier raised his eyebrows at him. "Yeah?"

"Shout her a coffee on me, will you," he said with the fakest smile he could muster. He suddenly felt like he needed to compensate for something, almost as though he could feel Winters' eyes on the back of his head.

Jay rounded the entire dining area with a casual swing in his step, pulling out his phone and pretending to read a text message. He kept his eyes down and looked around casually, ensuring he didn't meet Winters' eye.

He found a booth seat with his back against the faux brick and watched as Winters made her way through the line. On her feet she wore a pair of scuffed Chelsea boots that reminded Jay of his rural New Zealand upbringing. Her boots looked like they should be pulled on every morning by a sheep farmer. Though a little too young to truly appreciate the film, Jay had been asked many times about Crocodile Dundee since he had been working around Americans in Japan and the US. He was almost certain Paul Hogan had worn a pair of boots exactly the same in that film. He wondered if any Americans had ever pulled her up on it, and if she had any legitimate reason to own them beyond aesthetic. The irony of shoes designed for a farmer being on the feet of a makeup artist was not lost on Jay. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

Just as he did, Winters turned her head and locked eyes with him. She blinked at him a few times, her expression blank, before turning back to the cashier to pay for her food. To Jay’s surprise, when she was done she turned and walked straight over to sit down at the chair opposite his booth seat, cheap stainless steel table between them.

She made no move to say anything, perhaps waiting for him to mention the coffee. He didn’t, instead deciding to wait her out. Maybe it was childish, but honestly he wasn’t sure there was anything to say. She shouldn’t have sat with him to begin with, should have taken the coffee as a peace offering and moved on.

Thankfully their coffees arrived a moment later and they had an excuse not to speak to one another.

Jay was beginning to feel hunger creeping up in his stomach, so he busied himself by people watching over her head as they awaited their food. She really was at a convenient height for it. Jay was only 6’1, but Winters couldn’t have been more than 5’6 so he could easily see over her head. Directly behind her sat the man who had ordered in front of Jay. His food had already come out, and the way he was eating made Jay uncomfortable. A sandwich with a knife and fork, and as if that weren’t bad enough he was drinking both coffee and orange juice, as though the coffee was a shot and the orange juice was the chaser.

“She’s going to notice,” Winters said suddenly, preventing Jay from further judging the man.

“What?” Jay asked curtly. He had no idea what she was talking about. He wondered if she had even meant to say it out loud.

“The barista,” Winters replied, rolling her eyes, “If you keep staring at her like that you’re going to drill a hole in her skull.”

Jay puffed out a laugh at that. Of course that’s what she thought he was doing. Jay looked over behind the cafe counter, to see the barista Winters was talking about. She was pretty, Jay had to admit. Bright red hair, dark brown eyes, tight high waisted blue jeans that hugged her figure.

Jay wasn’t sure how to respond. Did he play into it? Winters already thought he was an asshole, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt his heel reputation to pretend he was the type to try and flirt with his server.

Something about Winters’ unimpressed tone made him want to prove her wrong, though.

“No,” he said emphatically, leaning over so that the guy couldn’t hear them. “The guy behind you,” he corrected, “he’s drinking orange juice and coffee.”

Winters’ brows furrowed at him. “Maybe he wants orange juice and coffee,” she replied simply.

“No,” Jay muttered, “He’s alternating them.”

“What do you mean he’s alternating them?” she whispered back.

“Like, one sip of coffee, then one sip of orange juice.”

“Oh.” Winters wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

At that moment their food arrived, brought over by the pretty red-haired barista. Jay flashed her a tight smile and Winters offered her a thank you before they tucked into their food.

Jay watched the barista go, looking her up and down. From here her butt looked great in her jeans and he wondered if Winters was right, that he should be flirting with her.

“You people watch a lot?” Winters asked him casually.

Suddenly Jay was aware of the fact that he’d opened a window into his personal life for this woman. One of Impact’s makeup artists didn’t need insight into the inner workings of his mind.

“I don’t think that’s your business,” Jay snapped.

That seemed to kill her curiosity, because she looked down at her food and ate quickly. Jay felt guilty for a moment, but pushed the feeling away. He was the leader of Bullet Club, he was the Switchblade. He didn’t need to concern himself with the feelings of this girl. She shouldn’t have sat down with him. He should have told her when she did to move away. They weren’t colleagues, she was just someone who did his hair.

She finished her food before him, getting up immediately and leaving without a word. She didn’t even look him in the eye. Good, he thought to himself. She should be intimidated by him. All she took with her was her half-drunk coffee, the one he had - stupidly - paid for.

Jay made his way down to the arena at a leisurely pace. He told himself it was because he was running early today, because he didn’t rush for anyone. But a small voice inside his head told him it was to make sure there was a wide berth between Winters and himself.

When Jay arrived he bypassed the people he would usually greet on his way in, making a beeline for the nearest bathroom. Once there, he splashed his face with water from the sink and took a long look at his reflection.

He was slouching, so he stood up straighter, rolling his shoulders back. He was King Switch, he was the catalyst of professional wrestling. He was… an asshole. But he was the leader of Bullet Club, so he should be an asshole.

Chris Bey sought him out in the bathroom after a while. He caught Jay staring darkly at his own reflection. He was thinking about everything and nothing, emotions washing over him that he lacked the introspection to unpack. He pushed them all aside the moment he saw Chris, his friend grounding him in reality. The reality of the business that had taken over his life since he was a teenager. He thought of Winters and her stupid accent from a faraway place that had once been close to home for him. What was close to home now was this Philadelphia arena, the one in Kentucky, the ones all over Japan.

“What’s going on with you, man?” Chris asked.

Jay shook his head, eyeing the two of them side-by-side in the mirror. Despite having just eaten, Jay felt something like hunger rising in his stomach. It must have been his new workout routine; he was hungry all the time these days.

“Nothing,” Jay replied, watching as the King Switch mask melted back over his face, concealing his insecurities from view. “Wanna go check out catering?”

Chapter 3

A week later saw Jay in catering again, this time backstage at an AEW show. He wasn’t wrestling that night, but he was there to make the Bullet Club’s presence felt on television. Absent from the Bullet Club’s ranks tonight was Chris Bey, who Jay would have much preferred the company of. But he was still glad to have the Good Brothers around. AEW’s catering was much better than Impact’s, so for once Gallows and Anderson were in good moods.

Jay was on his third slice of pumpkin pie when some of the production crew began filtering into the catering room, alongside members of the roster who had their hair and makeup all done. It reminded Jay that he still needed to go and get his hair done.

For Impact tapings he’d started doing it himself just to avoid Winters. She hadn’t done anything to be worth avoiding, but she set something off inside of him that he didn’t like feeling. But doing it himself on this show wasn’t possible. The TBS cameras made it too obvious when you weren’t put together by a professional.

Jay watched the crew pour in, noticing they all wore black from head-to-toe. The production crew at Impact technically had the same dress code, but adhered to it a lot less rigidly. Except Winters. He’d never seen Winters wear anything colourful in the time he’d known her. Not even her makeup would have a pop of colour in it. Not that he was paying her any attention to how she looked when they ran across each other in the Impact halls.

He stuffed a fourth piece of pumpkin pie in his mouth absently.

“What’s goin’ on with you, man?” Anderson asked, echoing Chris’s words from the previous week.

Jay shrugged. “Nothin’,” he replied coolly.

Anderson looked to Gallows for an answered, clearly not satisfied with Jay’s response.

“It’s a girl,” Gallows said matter-of-factly.

“Ahh,” Anderson nodded sagely.

Jay narrowed his eyes, looking between both of them. “There’s no girl,” he said flatly.

“Remember when I first met my wife,” Gallows told Anderson, pointedly ignoring Jay’s words. “I gained damn near thirty pounds.”

Anderson laughed at the apparent memory. Jay had no idea what either of them were talking about, if he were being honest.

“I haven’t gained any weight,” he protested. Admittedly, he hadn’t been on the scales in a while, but his abs were as defined as they’d ever been. That had to count for something.

“Man,” Anderson said, exasperated, “You could eat McDonald’s every meal of the day and you wouldn’t gain a pound.”

“That don’t mean you ain’t been eatin’ more,” Gallows added helpfully.

Jay thought about it. He had been hungry a lot lately. And he was contemplating his fifth slice of pie even as the Good Brothers called attention to his eating habits.

“I changed up my gym routine,” he said too quickly, wondering if the Good Brothers picked up on the waver he heard in his own voice.

“Sure you did,” Gallows replied with a smirk. The other man snatched the last slice of pie from in front of them before Jay could, letting out a low chuckle when Jay stared at the slice forlornly.

Anderson seemed to have picked up on Jay’s gaze as well, because he snorted.

“You’re down bad, huh man,” Anderson chuckled.

Jay stood up from the catering table abruptly. “Looks like the crew’s about to be done for the day,” he said hurriedly, “I’d better go get my hair done.”

*

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Jay said to himself as he waited in a makeup chair for someone to come in and do his hair. He’d sounded like a damn girl when he left the Good Brothers in catering earlier. For a moment he entertained the thought that they’d been right, that he felt something for Winters. Maybe he needed to sleep with her and get it out of his system. But even as he thought about her, the idea of it irritated him. Her stupid name - what was it, a first name? A last name? A nickname? Jay shouldn’t - didn’t - care. And those stupid stockman’s boots she wore. Maybe she should go back to Australia and shear some bloody sheep then.

Jay tapped his fingers on the makeup counter because he had to let his frustrations out somehow. The beatdown he was meant to give backstage on tonight’s Dynamite might well be real at this rate.

But Winters wasn’t back home in Australia shearing sheep. She was walking through the door to stand right behind him. In her hand she held a paper plate with a pile of sandwiches and a slice of pumpkin pie on it, eating with one hand as she walked. When she saw him, she had the audacity to roll her eyes.

“Of course you’d interrupt my break to brush your damn hair,” she sniped.

Jay was taken aback by the venom in her voice. He hadn’t really thought through the fact that, of course, he was interrupting the crew’s break time by asking to have his hair done now. When he’d caught the head of the hair and makeup department by the elbow and asked to be worked on, she’d said she’d go find someone. He hadn’t realised she’d be taking that person off their break.

He felt oddly compelled to apologise, but instead ceased the tapping of his fingers. That was the most he could muster in the way of a peace offering. If he were honest, he was still thinking about her. Infuriated by her. Contemplating fucking her right here in this chair just so that she knew who was in charge.

Winters put her food down on the counter amongst a sea of messy makeup utensils. Jay just blinked at her reflection in the mirror as she stuffed another bite of her sandwich into her mouth and picked up a hairbrush.

She wasn’t as gentle with his hair this time as she had been on previous occasions, clearly in a hurry to get things done so she could return to her break. Jay supposed that was fair enough, but the pulling on his scalp irritated him nonetheless. He must have let that irritation show on his face, because after a moment she sighed and slowed down.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Jay just shook his head at her, as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’. Maybe she took it to mean ‘shut up’ because she didn’t speak again after that.

By the time she finished his hair her sandwiches were done, and only her slice of pumpkin pie was left. She threw the hairbrush she was holding onto the counter in front of him and gestured roughly to the pie.

“You can have that if you want,” she said.

Jay waited until she left the room to devour the slice of pie.

Chapter 4

The next time Jay saw Winters, it was backstage at another AEW show. He’d deliberately avoided her at Impact yet again, and by now he had no room left to lie to himself as he continued to make every day a cheat day. The Good Brothers hadn’t let up on their theory that his eating habits were all about a girl, and by now they’d clued Chris into the whole conspiracy. Not, Jay supposed, that it was a conspiracy. It was true, and he resented them for bringing it to his attention.

But tonight at AEW Jay was on his own. He was supposed to be shooting a backstage promo video with Adam Cole and the Bucks, but apparently Adam Page had gotten heated about the beatdown Jay had served on him last week. Apparently Jay had come out looking too good, and the Hangman didn’t appreciate being undermined when he was the world champion. Had got in his head that Jay had been trying to embarrass him, even hurt him.

And truth be told Jay had been angry that night. Angry with himself, angry at Winters, pissed off with the Good Brothers for pointing it out. So yeah, maybe he’d been a little stiffer than usual, and gone in a little harder than he should have. And Jay understood that Hangman was still building his legacy, and Jay had already built a substantial one for himself. But he was King Switch, leader of the Bullet Club. Page wasn’t supposed to look good while he was getting his ass beat by the Switchblade.

Jay might have even been receptive to Page’s criticisms, might have offered him an apology, if Page hadn’t cornered him in an empty hallway at the back of the arena to ‘talk’ to him about it. Page was shouting something about Jay’s ego, about how New Japan guys always thought they were better than everyone else when they walked into an AEW locker room. Something entirely nonsensical considering Page himself had once been a 'New Japan guy'.

Winters, naturally, had to walk into the middle of it. Jay didn’t think she knew what was going on at first, head buried in her phone as she wandered down the hallway towards them. Page’s back was to her, but Jay saw her coming a mile away.

“I’ve heard the Good Brothers talking about how there’s some girl you’ve been hung up on,” Page spat.

Jay’s eyes whipped back to Page’s face, and he found himself imagining what the other man would look like with a broken nose.

“Don’t.” Jay said loudly. “Go there.”

“What?” Page spat, not backing down.

Behind him, Jay could see that Winters had looked up from her phone and stopped dead in her tracks, watching the encounter cautiously.

“You think beating my ass was gonna make some girl more hot under the collar for you?”

The combination of Page’s comment and the embarrassment of knowing that Winters had heard it was enough to send Jay over the edge. He lunged forward, grabbing Page by the head and laying in blows to his abdomen. Though he’d envisioned breaking Page’s nose, he didn’t actually want to hurt the guy. He had a match later that night. Jay just wanted to tune him up a little, tell him to back the fuck off.

Page shoved Jay up against a wall and Jay let him, not wanting to risk the pair going backwards and running into Winters. She’d put her phone away now, and was watching them with an expression on her face that Jay couldn’t discern between the blows that Page was getting in since Jay had let him get the high ground.

Unlike Jay who had spared Page’s face, Page raised his fist and rained down blow after blow to Jay’s face. Jay blocked the first couple with his forearms, but eventually let one in as he tried to reposition them to regain control of the fight.

Jay’s eyes were closed as he grimaced in pain, all he could see and feel was Page’s body crowding around him.

But then there was another body between them. Jay spotted a flash of a black t-shirt and figured security had heard the scuffle and come to break it up. Whoever it was shoved Page away and then there was space between them.

Opening his eyes and rubbing his jaw, Jay was shocked to see Winters standing between himself and Page, arms outstretched towards Page in a peacekeeping gesture.

“ENOUGH,” she shouted. She turned her head back and forth between Jay and Page. “Both of you.”

“He started it, man,” Page began.

Jay was surprised to see Hangman immediately listening to Winters. Maybe she had some kind of reputation Jay didn’t know about, or maybe Hangman had just seen sense after their little scuffle.

“I was watching,” Winters snapped back, “I know damn well who started it.”

Jay’s face fell in embarrassment at that. How much had she heard? Enough, Jay guessed, based on the glare she shot in his direction.

“Walk it off, Adam,” she ordered, voice stronger than Jay would have expected it to be given the situation and the size both men had on her. “You’ve got a match tonight.”

Reluctantly, Page walked away, but not before pointing a warning finger in Jay’s direction accompanied by a look that would have been scary were it not dwarfed by the fire behind Winters’ eyes currently being shot in his direction.

Once Page had pounded down the long hallway and rounded a corner, Winters finally dropped her defensive stance and turned to face him properly.

Jay knew he should say something to her, but he had no idea what. So he just stood there, shoulders squared, trying to pretend he was still angry. Like she had gotten in the way of him dealing with Page himself.

“What the hell was that?” Winters asked him indignantly.

She had the tone of someone who had a right to judge his behaviour, as if she knew a single thing about him.

He couldn’t tell what made him madder; the fact that she had the stones to speak to him that way, or the fact that some tiny part of him wished she knew him well enough to justify the tone in her voice.

She looked at him expectantly for a long time, being unreasonably patient with him. It reminded him of the way Shelley and Sabin had looked at him in the old days, back when he was still this aggressive, impulsive little kid who made all his decisions with his heart instead of his head. But that person had disappeared a long time ago. Gone was the Jamie White who shook his opponent’s hand before a match because it “felt” like the right thing to do. Replacing him was a man who was cold, calculated, and made good decisions when it came to this business. The Switchblade.

But the Switchblade wasn’t the man who had made the choice to lay into Adam Page just now. That decision had been all heart and no head. Fuck, what was wrong with him lately?

Maybe Jay had been right weeks ago when he’d resolved to fuck Winters and get it out of his system. Without thinking, he stalked across the wide arena hallway towards her, standing over her and pushing forward until they were touching, until there was nowhere for her to go but backwards until she hit the opposite wall.

Cold bricks against her back and Jay’s imposing figure looming over her. He was already in his gear, leather jacket and switchblade necklace, his hair dripping wet and curtaining his face.

“What gives you the right,” Jay snarled into her face, one hand braced above her head, “to talk to me that way.”

Winters looked up into his face for a long moment. Were he not so pissed off, Jay might have given her credit for the fact that her gaze never wavered, even as he bared his teeth at her. Finally, after a long moment looking into his eyes, Winters cracked a smirk.

Enraged, Jay pressed his body still closer against her and snarled at her. He really would have to fuck her to put her in her place and remind her of exactly who he was.

“I might be intimidated,” she said, looking him up and down as her smirk turned to a snarl of her own, “If your dick wasn’t pressed up against my thigh.”

Winters’ hands came up from her sides to his chest and she pushed against him firmly, shoving him off her. Jay, in shock as he felt his own erection against her leg, let her move him out of her way.

She stalked down the hallway, not taking a moment to look back. She left Jay there, who’d rolled so his back was against the cold concrete wall, dick still hard in his wrestling tights, wondering how long it had been like that.

Something about the way she’d looked at him had seemed like an invitation, but deep down in his stomach Jay knew that just fucking her wouldn’t be enough. And if that weren’t bad enough, he was suddenly aware that he was hungry again.

Chapter 5

Jay was five beers deep the next time he saw Winters, drowning his embarrassment for the third time that week at some skeevy dive bar with the Good Brothers and Chris Bey. The story he was going with was that Page had jumped him and Jay had managed to get enough distance when Winters stepped in and Page and Jay realised they were scaring her and decided to call off the fight. Jay had neglected to mention to any of the members of the Bullet Club that Winters had actually been the one to physically break it up, and he certainly hadn’t mentioned how much it had turned him on to see her show that much strength.

But the way Gallows looked at him told Jay that he knew he wasn’t being told the whole story. Hell, Gallows had a look that told Jay he might have known Jay’s dick had been hard when he was trying to intimidate her.

Winters walked in just as Bey got up to get them another round of drinks, so Jay was stuck sandwiched between the Good Brothers. By now they’d figured out exactly who she was - the only girl who worked at both Impact and AEW - and it turned out both Gallows and Anderson were on very friendly terms with her because she’d given them beard-grooming advice a time or two.

They spotted her right as Jay did. The three of them watched her walk right up beside Chris Bey and order her own drink as Bey turned to carry back theirs. Bey saw that the rest of his team’s eyes were fixed in his direction and he turned his head to follow their gaze, eyes widening as he too spotted Winters.

Bey quickened his step and all but slammed their beers down on the table in front of them.

“She’s here?” he whispered dramatically, eyes still wide. Trust Bey to treat this whole situation like locker room drama.

Before Jay could hush them all and assure them it was nothing, Gallows was reaching up his hand in a wave and calling his name.

“Yo, ‘Becca!” he shouted.

Rebecca? For a moment Jay thought that Gallows must have been talking about someone else. But Winters turned, recognising what must have been her first name. Jay supposed that answered one question he had about her.

Winters’ face didn’t hide much of what she was thinking, flashing Jay an unimpressed look before reluctantly waving at Gallows. Grabbing her beer off the bar, Winters crossed the short distance between the bar and their table, perching herself on the edge of the low faux-suede seats beside Bey, opposite Jay and the Good Brothers who sat in a booth seat. It reminded Jay of where she’d sat so boldly in that cafe in Philly, and Jay wished for a moment he could rewind to that moment and not be such an asshole.

Gallows and Anderson clearly liked her, and they were industry vets who’d been tearing it up in New Japan for decades. But Jay couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d be losing some part of the Switchblade persona if he gave into her. Maybe it was that vulnerability she still had in her eyes when she looked at him - a vulnerability that the Good Brothers had stamped out of themselves years ago - the way she seemed like just a person. She didn’t have a persona, or an ego, or an agenda. Again he was reminded of Alex Shelley, who he’d beaten once and for all on pay-per-view just a few weeks ago. He wondered did Shelley and Sabin know her? Did they talk to her backstage while she did their hair and makeup? Did they like her? God he hoped not.

Winters took a sip of her beer and complemented Anderson’s beard.

“Come on,” Gallows jeered, “What about mine?”

Winters rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you know yours is perfect.”

Gallows nodded emphatically in agreement. Then his face twisted into a mischievous grin and Jay was suddenly very self-conscious of his own beard.

“What do you think of the Switchblade’s beard?” he asked, one eyebrow raised jovially.

Damn you, Gallows, Jay thought darkly. All he could do was sit and wait for the inevitable snide comment, sandwiched between the Good Brothers with no escape in sight. He began drinking his sixth beer, a little too fast, but he didn’t much care what they thought of him at this point.

“Great beard,” Winters said appreciatively, taking another long drink of her beer. Jay nearly choked on his. “Fits great between the two of you.”

Gallows clapped Jay on the back and Anderson squeezed his shoulder. “That’s our boy,” Anderson said dramatically, shooting Winters his most convincing grin.

Winters drained the rest of her beer before she spoke again. The Good Brothers and Bey were waiting on her next words with bated breath, eyeing her up cautiously. She seemed to know it, taking her time setting her glass down.

“Anyway, I told myself I’d only have one tonight.” She smiled tightly. “Early flight tomorrow,” she explained with a sweet fake politeness in her voice. “I’ll see you boys around.”

When she stood up, her gaze lingered on Jay for a moment longer than anyone else. And with that, she was gone.

Jay’s stomach growled. “Anyone else hungry?” he asked stupidly. “We could order something from the bar menu.”

The Good Brother erupted into uproarious laughter and even Bey had a chuckle at his expense. He was so royally fucked.

Chapter 6

The following week Jay was at Impact again, having avoided seeing Winters for the entire night. He and Bey had suffered a frankly embarrassing defeat against the reunited Motor City Machine Guns, and Jay was feeling especially vulnerable afterwards. Bey found his way over to the Good Brothers who awaited him with commiserations and an ice pack, while Jay stalked his way past them towards the back of the arena.

He felt like a kid again. Twenty-two years old and still wearing white trunks to the ring like an asshole. A baby with an undercut he hadn’t thought far enough ahead about and ended up growing out live on TV. Once upon a time the Motor City Machine Guns had been his mentors; they gave him a thousand opportunities in Ring of Honor that he would never have got if they hadn’t taken a shine to him. He thought about Chris Bey, who he was supposed to be mentoring himself. Returning the favour in some cosmic way even as he beat his old mentors down in the ring.

But tonight Shelley and Sabin had treated him like a petulant child, one who hadn’t learned a damn thing since he’d left them in 2017. And maybe he hadn’t, because he wasn’t acting like the Switchblade he’d become; he didn’t have the bravado of a man who believed it was truly his era in professional wrestling. Instead, he was hung up on some stupid fucking girl.

Jay walked towards the back of the arena with his hand still on the back of his neck, working out a knot that had formed during his match. He stared down at his feet, not having the strength of will in that moment to take his defeat like a man. He was sullen and pissed off, like this was his first loss as a rookie on TV.

“He’s a nice guy somewhere deep down,” came the unmistakable voice of Chris Sabin. Immediately Jay knew Sabin was talking about him.

“I’m sure he is,” came a tight response in an all-too-familiar accent.

Jay’s heart sank so far at that moment that he swore he could feel it beating in his feet. Winters and the Motor City Machine Guns, for fuck’s sake.

Jay didn’t dare look up from his feet, but their silence told him that they had spotted him. As he walked by them he saw Winters’ stupid boots stood beside Shelley and Sabin’s wrestling boots and his blood ran cold. He pushed between them and stalked past until he was outside of the arena, now shirtless in the cold and dark.

He heard footsteps following behind him, presumably Shelley who would take any opportunity he could to put his dad hat on and give him some sage advice about life.

Jay resigned himself to it and sat down on the hard concrete steps outside the back of the arena, resting his head against the cold steel handrails.

Someone sat down beside him, but Jay kept his eyes closed and ignored whoever it was. Anything to put off this conversation for a few more minutes. He knew the truth in Sabin’s words. He wasn’t a bad guy, not really. And truth be told, neither were the rest of Bullet Club. Ruthless and uncompromising in what they wanted out of this business, sure, but they were not unkind. Anderson and Gallows were both married, and Jay was pretty sure Bey had a girl despite his persona.

“I would love,” began the person beside him.

And it was Winters. Of course it was Winters. He couldn’t get a moment’s peace from the reality of his situation. The reality he’d forced upon himself when he decided to be an asshole to her that very first day in the elevator.

“I would love,” she began again, her voice demanding his attention this time. He dared to look in her direction for a second, only to find her eyes squarely planted in the distance, looking straight ahead. Her elbows rested on her knees as she leaned forward, hands clasped together. “To have just one week where I come to work and I don’t have a bunch of sweaty pro-wrestlers in my face trying to set me up on a date with you.”

Jay felt his face go hot with embarrassment. Between the match and all the harsh words about his life and who he ‘was’ that had been spoken over the course of tonight, Jay didn’t have the strength left in him to hide any of how he felt from her. So he just let his blush linger there, hot on his face for her to see.

“I didn’t ask for them to do that,” he said quietly, his face flushing deeper as he heard his voice crack on his words.

“I didn’t say you did,” she replied curtly, “But you would have stopped it by now if you didn’t want them to.”

She turned to look at him for the first time since they’d been out here. Her eyes were piercing and Jay knew that there was no more room for bullshit. Beneath her piercing eyes were faint purple bags that he’d never noticed before. This had been going on for weeks, Jay realised, not just for him but for her as well.

Jay took a moment to let her words sink in. She wasn’t wrong. He could have easily asked the Good Brothers to stop if he’d really wanted them to. But instead he’d been content to let them call attention to his feelings that night in the bar. Maybe on some level he had always wanted this to happen.

“It’s those stupid fucking boots,” Jay found himself saying, throwing his hands up in the air. Even to his own ears he sounded hysterical. “You walk around the place like you’re a stockman on a fucking farm and you’re the only one in the place who adheres to the dress code.”

Winters was looking at him with her mouth hung open now. She must have thought he was insane. And maybe he was.

“Seriously,” Jay continued wildly, “You brush hair for a living and you look and sound like you’re about to shear a sheep.”

Winters put her head in her hands then and rubbed her weary eyes. It was the first time Jay had seen her look anything like weak, and it stopped him in his tracks.

They sat there for a long moment in silence, Winters barely looking like she was breathing. Jay was seriously beginning to consider that he’d broken her, when a sound like a laugh burst from her.

He thought she was crying at first, but as she continued he realised it was definitely laughter, not sobs, wracking her body. Shit, he really had broken her.

“All of this,” she chuckled, lifting her head from her hands to look at him for a brief moment, “is because of my fucking shoes?”

Jay just blinked at her. Unsure of what to say. He thought about the strength with which she’d shoved Adam Page away a couple of weeks ago and his skin prickled as he briefly entertained the idea that she might kill him.

“Mate,” she said once her laughter had subsided, “There is something really wrong with you.”

The look she gave him made Jay acutely aware of the fact that he was sat shirtless in the cold. Something about his nipples being hard at this moment felt so inappropriate. He felt naked under her gaze.

“Did it ever occur to you,” she continued, “That I might live on a fucking farm when I’m not working here?” She rolled her eyes at him and raised one of her legs to wiggle the aforementioned boots in his face. “You think they got this dirty doing bloody hair and makeup?” When he couldn’t come up with a thing to say she continued ripping into him. “And what was that shit with Page the other week?”

It was clear she wouldn’t continue her rant until he gave her an answer, so he resolved to give her one. First though, he crossed his arms over his bare chest so that he felt a little less exposed.

“I was pissed off at you,” Jay mumbled, “So I hit him a little too hard and then he started going off about you and I-”

“That was about me too?” she shouted.

At that point she leaned back on the stairs and tilted her face back towards the sky, heaving an almighty sigh. Jay should have been freaking out about how exasperated she was, but instead he was watching the way that her t-shirt rode up around her stomach and he could see a little strip of flesh above the waistband of her jeans.

Without thinking - because really, had he had a single coherent thought since the day he’d met her - he reached out and brushed his fingers over that strip of skin.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked down at him. Her expression was unreadable and Jay didn’t know what he wanted. He grasped onto the waistband of her jeans for dear life, digging his fingers in and feeling the soft fabric of her panties under her jeans while his thumb rubbed against the cold metal button on her fly.

“Tell me to stop,” he begged, grasping her jeans tighter now. His voice sounded wrecked, cracking even as he leaned forward to hover his body over hers, to look in her eyes.

Her arm shot up and then her hand was in his hair. Gone was the gentle hand that had brushed it and gotten him show-ready so many times. She yanked back on it and bared his neck. Leaning forward, she let her lips dance just beside his ear, close enough to feel her breath on his earlobe but still agonisingly far away.

“If I wanted you to stop,” she breathed, “I would have told you to by now.”

Chapter 7

Jay’s flight home had been delayed by four hours and as he made his way through the airport parking lot to find his parked car, he realised he hadn’t eaten since the previous morning. Staring down at his phone to distract himself, he saw texts from the usual suspects. He ignored most of them, but one stood out.

Get takeout on your way home?

Jay shot back a thumbs up (the Good Brothers’ emoji habit finally rubbing off on him) and piled his things into the back of his car.

A forty-five minute drive from the airport and a quick pitstop at their favourite Chinese place, and Jay was rolling to a stop in front of the cosy farmhouse he now called home. Jay stepped out of the car and onto the dusty dirt driveway, watching his white Nikes turn a shade of maroon almost immediately. You think they got this dirty doing bloody hair and makeup?

He chuckled to himself and brought the takeout and his carry-on inside. The rest of his bags could wait until later. He toed off his shoes at the front door beside a pair of worn Chelsea boots, feeling very domestic. Gone were the days of him bouncing from one apartment to the next, leaving his shoes under hotel beds and frantically searching for them an hour before his flight.

Instead, he found himself settling into a familiar lounge in a familiar living room, flipping on a TV he owned and feeling comforted by the presence of a very lazy ginger house cat atop the mantlepiece and the familiar sound of the upstairs shower turning off.

“Hey Bec,” he called smoothly when he heard her footfalls on the stairs.

“I smell Chinese, Jamie,” she called back, appearing with one of his t-shirts on and a stretched pair of tube socks. She was still towel-drying her hair, but abandoned the towel on the back of the lounge to sit down beside him.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I know it’s your favourite.” He turned his head to face her where she sat cross-legged beside him, wet blonde hair like a halo around her pretty face. “But I’m not really hungry.”

“Really?” Her brows knotted together in that cute annoying way they did when she knew he’d said something totally stupid. “You just got off a flight from Japan and you’re not hungry?”

Jay grinned back at her, his stomach growling and giving up his game, but he didn’t care. “I’d much rather have something else,” he growled.

He pounced on top of her and they lost their balance, landing in a heap on the floor. With one hand bracketed around her face he slid the other one up her thigh and wound it around the band of her panties, pulling tight.

“Tell me to stop, Bec,” he dared.

“If I wanted you to stop, I would have told you by now.”

The Good Brothers were right. He was eating a lot more these days. Just not food.