#just in time seiko watches | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 4 months ago

Text

Synopsis: You find yourself developing a crush on mischievous soccer player Eita Otoya. The only problem? Eita and relationships don’t exactly go hand in hand — which is something you’re only all too aware of, considering he just so happens to be your best friend’s older brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Karasu Version

Pairing: Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 12.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, otoya is a red flag let’s not lie to ourselves, he’s lowkey ooc at the end, reader says ‘i can NOT fix him’ but then accidentally manages to anyways, otoya plays video games but sucks at them, otoya’s younger sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘otoya’s younger sister’ the entire time), std jokes, your honor eita otoya IS a loser

A/N: yes this is based off the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious. yes this is probably the dumbest otoya fic you will ever read (i promise i’ve written him better before). yes this is four times longer than it was supposed to be. idk what to say either i just get carried away LMAO

On the first day of your first year of middle school, you were told by your teacher to sit next to an entirely disagreeable looking girl. Her round face was adorned with a scowl, and there was a scrape on the bridge of her nose. She had silvery hair cut in a choppy bob, and blunt bangs streaked with green covered her forehead. When she noticed you staring at her in surprise, she made a face at you.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I’m supposed to sit here,” you said. “Teacher said so.”

“Whatever,” she said with a scoff. You gave her an uneasy look as you set your things down beside her, sliding into your chair and watching her out of the corner of your eye. If she noticed, she did not care, gripping her pencil in her hand so hard it was a miracle it did not snap in half, her scowl deepening as she looked over the introduction sheet you all had been given to fill out.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you offered meekly, not wanting to accidentally offend her. She seemed like the kind of girl you really shouldn’t mess with, not if you wanted to keep your life and limbs intact.

She glanced at you. “Seiko Otoya.”

“Nice to meet you, Otoya,” you said.

“Seiko,” she said firmly. “Nobody calls me Otoya ‘cause I have two older siblings and it’s confusing.”

“Ah, but neither of your siblings are here, so it wouldn’t be confusing,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself. Seiko gave you an annoyed look.

“So what? Everyone’s been calling me Seiko since I can remember, so if you try to get my attention by saying Otoya I won’t realize,” she said. “What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t have a problem,” you said, pulling out a pencil of your own and filling out your introduction sheet. Your handwriting was ten times nicer than Seiko’s, you noticed — she had a messy scrawl that was barely legible, especially when compared to your neat print.

“That’s great to hear, L/N,” she said, shoving her arm over her paper so you couldn’t look at it any longer. “Quit copying me.”

“Of all the assignments to copy on, do you really think I’d pick this one? It wouldn’t even make sense, since all of the information is about ourselves. See, this one asks about our families,” you said, tapping your eraser against the question you were referring to. “It’s not like I would write that I have two older siblings, because I don’t, even though you do.”

Seiko scoffed, puffing her cheeks out and turning back to her work with a pout. “Fine.”

You had been hoping that you’d befriend your desk partner, considering you didn’t know anyone at the middle school. All of your friends from primary school lived across town from you, so they were attending another middle school, which had the unfortunate effect of leaving you by yourself. Unfortunately, it seemed like you were out of luck when it came to making friends with the girl beside you, because Seiko was surly at best and downright hostile at worst.

When the bell rang to signify the end of the first half of the day as well as the beginning of the lunch break, you all but leapt out of your seat, speed-walking towards the cafeteria as fast as you could, eager to avoid another stiff conversation with Seiko. For her part, she rolled her eyes, taking her own time to gather her things and push in her chair, ignoring you completely all the while.

In your haste, you didn’t watch where you were going, and because of your shyly-ducked head, you ran straight into the back of a tall, heavy-set boy.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, spinning around to face you. He had close-cropped hair and thick brows, a narrow mouth pressed into a taut line, and a pinched, ruddy face.

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“You made me drop my chocolate milk,” he said. “Apologize again, and give me money to pay for more!”

“Your chocolate milk is still in your hand,” you said quietly. He glared at you, and then, before you could react, he was unscrewing the cap and pouring its contents all over you.

“Like I said,” he said. “You made me drop it.”

“What — why would you do that?” you sputtered. You had thought that middle school would be much the same as elementary had been, only with different people, but this never would’ve happened, even just last year. You looked around wildly for a teacher, but there were none; though you were surrounded by laughing peers, you realized that you were alone in this hallway, completely and utterly alone. Everyone was laughing at you and milk was dripping down your once-white shirt and you were alone and things could not get worse.

The boy held out his hand. Things got worse. “Gimme your lunch money, freak.”

You stared at him blankly, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. He tapped his foot, and slowly, when you understood that you had no choice, you reached into your pocket, fumbling around for the bit of change you had brought with you.

Suddenly, someone slapped your wrist lightly — in reprimand, and not hard enough that it hurt, but so that you were startled and ceased your actions immediately. Looking up, you saw it was Seiko Otoya, looking much the same as she had earlier, though her cheeks bloomed with a rose-colored flush as she jabbed a finger at the boy.

“Who do you think you’re messing with, huh?” she shouted, loudly enough that you were surprised no adults were alarmed. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Seiko?” he said. “I didn’t know you were—”

She let out a challenging war cry and then lunged at him. You gasped as she tackled him to the ground and socked him in the nose, looking entirely ridiculous all the while. It was like watching a chihuahua beat up a mastiff; Seiko was tiny compared to the boy, but vicious, not even giving him a moment to breathe as she rammed her fists into his face, over and over.

“Miss Otoya!” an authoritative voice said, cutting through the brawl. “What is the meaning of this?”

Your teacher stood before you, one of your classmates at her side. When Seiko did not move, she yanked her off of the boy, helping him stand and giving Seiko a stern look.

“He spilled milk on L/N and tried to take her lunch money, so I was just trying to give him a taste of his own medicine,” Seiko said with a shrug.

“You should’ve come to me, not taken matters into your own hands,” your teacher said, massaging her temples when she saw the state of your uniform. “Do you have anything to say to this young man?”

Seiko squinted at the boy, his bloody nose and shivering frame, and then she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go on, then,” your teacher said. Seiko placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry—” she began. Your teacher nodded encouragingly. “—that I didn’t hit you harder. You could’ve gotten surgery and fixed that ugly nose of yours if I had actually managed to break it. I’ll do better next time, promise.”

The boy burst into tears. Seiko was sent to detention, giggling all the while. You were given a new uniform and the knowledge that there was at least this one person in the school who was on your side.

It was only natural that, after such an ordeal, you and Seiko ended up as fast friends. Her gruff exterior never softened any, but you found that she was kinder than she let on, and lonely in her own way.

“I learned that move from one of the wrestling matches my older brother likes to watch,” she explained to you a few days later. “I’ve been itching to try it out, so thanks for giving me the opportunity.”

“Itching to try it out?” you said in wonder, accepting the orange slice she handed you and biting into it.

“You know, I beat up 95% of the boys in my kindergarten,” she said thoughtfully. Despite the far-fetched number, you were inclined to believe her. “I’m kind of the opposite of my siblings in that sense. They’re both super popular, especially my brother Eita, but I’ve never been like that. I’m the sort of person that people generally stay far away from.”

“Well, I’m not staying far away from you,” you said.

“Right,” she said, cracking her knuckles with a smirk. “Who knows when that guy or his lackeys will come back to take revenge on you? You’ve gotta keep me around for a while, just in case.”

It was the best she could offer in terms of friendship, so you only smiled and said that you would.

You visited her house for the first time the following summer, during that part of the season when the days were long and faded into night so slowly that you could even fall asleep while it was still light out. She invited you in and then immediately tugged you after her, not bothering to offer an explanation, as was her way. You stumbled up the stairs, trying to keep pace as she whipped around a corner and knocked frantically on a shut door.

“What?” a muffled voice shouted from inside of the room.

“It’s Seiko, open up!” she shouted back. “I have to show you something!”

The door opened to reveal a boy. He was a year or so older than you and Seiko, with a delicate, handsome face and a slender, willowy build. His hair, which boasted the same strange coloring as Seiko’s, fell into low-lidded eyes that narrowed with irritation when they settled upon his younger sister.

“What is it?” he said. “I was in the middle of playing a game with my friends.”

“Look,” she said, placing her hands on your shoulders proudly. “You said you didn’t believe I had a friend, but I do, see? This is Y/N L/N, and she’s here to hang out with me!”

Her brother seemed unimpressed. “Did you have to rough her up a bit or something to get her to agree to it?”

“No!” Seiko said. “She actually likes me, right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you said, confused at what kind of argument you had accidentally found yourself in the middle of. “Um, Seiko’s my best friend at school, and she’s never beaten me up or anything, so…”

“Holy crap, you must be desperate,” he said.

“Hey!” Seiko said, kicking him in the shin. He winced and promptly slammed the door on your faces.

“You suck!” he said. “I have a soccer game tomorrow, so you’re lucky you didn’t permanently injure me!”

“I wish I had!” she said. “Come on, Y/N. He’s a jerk. Let’s go swimming. Did you bring a bathing suit? If not, you can borrow one of mine.”

“I have one,” you said. “Wait, so was that your older brother? The one who watches wrestling matches and all?”

“Yeah, that’s Eita. He’s in the grade ahead of us. I guess you could say we’re closer with each other than with our older sister, since she’s already finished high school, but to be honest, he’s dumb and mean, so we don’t get along very well,” she said.

“I picked up on that,” you said. “He seriously didn’t believe you had any friends?”

“No!” she said. “I told you back when we first met that he and our sister are super popular and I’m not, didn’t I? The thing is that he’s aware of that, too, and he always teases me for it, so when I told him I actually had made a friend, he acted like I was making it up. That’s why I took you to meet him, but he just had to go and be annoying about it! Ugh. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“That’s the worst. Oh, and he plays soccer?” you said. She gave you a strange look.

“Mhm, why?” she said.

“Dunno,” you said. “Just wondering.”

Even you weren’t sure why you were curious about Eita Otoya. Your first interaction with him had hardly been memorable, and if anything you should really despise him for being rude to Seiko. But wasn’t it common for siblings to fight? That didn’t mean he was a bad person, did it?

Actually, it was irrelevant. You doubted you would see much of him, so no matter the quality of his character, he wasn’t someone you needed to be thinking of as anything more than your best friend’s brother. Resolving to push it aside, you spent the rest of the summer with Seiko by their pool, eating popsicles and playing mermaids and getting into splash fights and entirely ignoring whatever signs of her brother’s existence presented themselves.

In fact, until you and Seiko began high school, your path hardly crossed with Eita Otoya’s. He was always out with his friends whenever you came over, and the things he preferred to do had such little overlap with yours and Seiko’s interests that it was as if he did not even live in the Otoya household at all. Indeed, you saw more of their older sister, who was already in college, than you did him, and he became nothing but a vague thought in the back of your mind, only considered when you saw a random sock on their kitchen floor or a soccer jersey thrown across the back of the armchair in their living room.

All of this changed when you and Seiko became high schoolers and she joined the swim team. Her practice hours were long and irregular, which meant there were often times that you’d sit around her house, doing homework while you waited for her to come back. Some days she was only five minutes late; others, it was half an hour or more. It was frustrating, but it could not be helped, so you learned quickly that you should bring something to entertain yourself with if you dared to head to the Otoya household on a day she had swimming — which was every day, or so it seemed.

“Hey. You’re L/N, right? Seiko’s friend?”

You were pulled out of writing a history paper by someone speaking to you curiously. When you looked up, you saw that it was Eita Otoya, a brown paper bag in his hands and a friendly smile on his face. He set the bag on the counter and rummaged about in one of their cabinets, pulling out two plates while he gazed at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I am,” you said, omitting the fact that you had been coming to his house for years, seeing no merit in bringing it up. “You’re her older brother.”

“Yup,” he said, emptying the contents of the bag onto one of the plates. “I can’t believe you’re doing homework at your best friend’s house.”

“She was supposed to be back half an hour ago, but I think one of her teammates pissed the coach off, so they all got held back again,” you said. “I figured I might as well be productive while I waited for her.”

“Smart,” he said. “Want some?”

He held up the plate filled with churros at you. You furrowed your brow, feeling entirely awkward — this was probably the longest conversation you had ever had with him, and certainly the only one you had had without Seiko present.

“Uh, sure,” you said.

“Good choice, these things are delicious,” he said, shaking his head as he heaped a generous portion onto the other plate. Pulling out the chair across from you, he handed you your plate and then sat down with a dreamy exhale. “I swear they put crack in them or something.”

“It’s possible,” you said, debating whether you should close your laptop before deciding you might as well. It wouldn’t do for your keyboard to get sticky with cinnamon sugar, and it would probably be rude of you to have it out while he was sitting with you.

You both were quiet for a while — you were too unsure of what to say to him, so you opted for silence, and he was distracted with eating his churros and texting someone on his phone. Maybe you should’ve kept your laptop open after all.

“Say, L/N,” he said. “If you were a girl—”

“I am a girl,” you interrupted him, somewhat put-out that he had forgotten that. He rolled his eyes and took another bite out of a churro, chewing and swallowing it before responding.

“Obviously,” he said. “You didn’t let me finish. If you were a girl who was dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?”

“You could’ve just phrased it like ‘if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?’ You didn’t have to specify the ‘if you were a girl’ part,” you muttered. It was a childish thing to be hung up about, but for some reason it really irritated you to think that he thought of you as something other than you really were.

He cocked his head at you, like he was trying to discern whether you were really being serious or not. He must’ve decided that you were, for he chuckled. It was not quite condescending but bordering on it, and it did not improve your mood any.

“Alright, I’m sorry. That’s my bad. Well, if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?” he said.

“I’d be upset and break up with them immediately, duh,” you said.

“Why?” he said.

“What do you mean why?” you said incredulously. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I’m not sure. No one’s ever cheated on me before,” he said with an impish grin, leaning over the table and snatching one of the churros off of your plate. “That’s why I wanted to know what you think.”

“No one’s ever cheated on me before, either. I’ve never even dated someone. That’s just the kind of thing where you already know what you’d do, though you hope it never happens,” you said.

“You’ve never dated someone? But you’re so pretty,” he said. You coughed, a bit of the churro that you had just swallowed sticking against your throat peculiarly at the compliment, which he had tossed out so casually it was as if he had just been commenting on the weather.

“Thanks,” you said. “Anyways, er, like I was saying — like I was saying, I wouldn’t stay with a cheater. Not ever.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, taking your empty plate, stacking it atop his own, and setting both in the sink. Running his hands under a stream of water so that there wasn’t any residue left on them, he shook his head. “It isn’t that big of a deal, you know. Like, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” you said. “Of course it means something. It means you don’t have any respect for the person you’re dating, and I wouldn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me, so why would I stay with someone who cheated? Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard what they all say — once a cheater, always a cheater. If they did it before, they’ll do it again.”

“That’s not very conducive to a growth mindset,” he said, patting his hands dry on a red-striped dish towel.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But people who cheat can grow somewhere far away from me.”

“That sounds like my cue to leave,” he said with a two-fingered salute. “I used to wonder why you were friends with Seiko, but to be honest, I can see it now.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he had left the kitchen, running up to his room, taking the steps two at a time. You were rendered absolutely bewildered, your sugary fingers and your unfinished essay and the two empty plates in the sink serving as the only proof that the conversation had even happened in the first place.

“Your brother’s really weird,” you said to Seiko when she got back, smelling faintly of chlorine, though you knew she had already showered at the pool. She cringed.

“Tell me about it. What did he do this time?” she said, pulling a large sweatshirt on, her hair sticking up every which way afterwards.

“He gave me churros and asked me what I’d do if someone cheated on me,” you said. She snorted.

“Sounds like him,” she said. “He’s kind of a serial dater, you see. He doesn’t tell me much, mostly because I’d be seriously grossed out by it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a cheater, too. Seriously, I don’t even know how we’re related. He’s the worst. I’d tell him to stop if I thought that he’d actually listen to me.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Don’t be so gloomy,” she said, elbowing you in the side affectionately. “It’s not like you’ll ever get with him, so why are you worried? I’d never let you date a cheater like that. Seriously, if you ever get a boyfriend—”

“If?” you said.

“You know what I mean. Anyways, like I was saying, I’ll beat him up if he cheats on you, whoever he might be!” she said, flexing her biceps, which were admittedly impressive, albeit hidden by the puffy sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“What if it’s your brother?” you said.

“Ew, why would it be him?” she said, pretending to gag. “Never date Eita. You deserve way better. He’s like a walking STD, probably. Just being in the same room with him is enough to give anyone herpes.”

“It was just a hypothetical question. And also, don’t you live with him? That’s nasty, do you have herpes, too?” you said. She ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it; you reached into your backpack and pulled out a comb, tossing it at her.

“I’m immune because we’re related,” she said. “They only transfer if you have those kinds of intentions, so you’re safe for now, but I’m just saying, he’s a genuine health risk to be around. And to answer your question, yeah, I’d take any opportunity to punch him, so if he cheated on you I’d go at it doubly hard!”

“That makes it seem like I’m more of an excuse for you to mess with your brother than you actually wanting to defend my honor or anything,” you said.

“There’s a bit of both factoring into the decision,” she admitted. “Let’s stop thinking about it, though. I’m feeling itchy in places I should not be feeling itchy at just the prospect of you guys being together.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” you informed her. She stuck her tongue out at you, and the topic was, in turn, forgotten.

For some reason, though, you found yourself showing up at the Otoyas’ house earlier and earlier. Not enough to draw suspicion, but enough that you almost always had at least a couple of minutes there by yourself. Mr. and Mrs. Otoya had long ago grown accustomed to your presence and treated you more like another daughter than anything, so they didn’t find it strange, and Seiko’s older sister had recently moved into her own apartment nearer to her university, so she didn’t even realize that it was happening.

In fact, there was only one consequence to this newfound habit of yours: in the many moments before Seiko returned from her practices, you struck up a friendship with her brother, Eita.

Things were awkward at first, you couldn’t deny it. He didn’t have much interest in you, and in fact it seemed like he only entertained you because it would be even worse if he didn’t.

“Oh, you’re here again,” he’d say if he got back from soccer before Seiko came back from swimming. “No Seiko?”

“Not yet,” you’d say, a poster board or worksheet or laptop in front of you. “She should be back in a few minutes. We’re supposed to finish this project together.”

“I told her she should’ve picked soccer,” he’d say with a laugh. “We always finish on time.”

“Cool,” you’d say, because how else could you respond? He’d raise his eyebrows at you, and then, if he felt generous, he’d give you a churro. If not, he’d dart off to his room, mumbling some excuse about having to call one of his friends or something, which you never responded to, because it was mostly unimportant to you.

There wasn’t any huge reasoning behind it. Talking to Eita Otoya wasn’t particularly stimulating, and though you certainly found him good-looking, you wouldn’t go so far as to say you had a crush on him. Mostly, you found him to be a bit of an enigma, and if in figuring him out, you got a few churros out of it, then you supposed it was a fair enough deal, but it wasn’t like you were seeking out his company or anything.

Eventually, he seemed to warm to you a bit more, though you were still standoffish, Seiko’s warning ever-present in the back of your mind — the one regarding walking STDs and herpes and whatnot. You never brought it up with him, but that really was the cause of your shyness, not — not anything else. Definitely not anything else. Why would you be shy around him of all people?

“Hey, L/N,” he’d say nowadays, greeting you cheerfully and sitting next to you as you did your homework. “How’re things going?”

“They’re good, thank you,” you’d say, scooting away from him inconspicuously. Herpes. STDs. Genuine health risk. Oh, he smells really nice…

“I’m doing well myself,” he’d respond, despite the fact that you typically didn’t bother with asking. “Still no Seiko?”

“Nope,” you’d say with a sigh. “Still no Seiko.”

He’d wrinkle his nose. “Damn. Sorry to hear it.”

“It’s fine,” you’d say. “She’ll be here soon, and she’ll probably be full of complaints about her coach.”

“I’d stick around until then, but unfortunately, my PC is calling,” he’d say, or he’d give some other such goofy excuse that was obviously designed to pull a laugh out of you and usually did. “See you around, L/N.”

“Later,” you’d say. “Have fun with your PC.”

It was nice. You wouldn’t say you were close with him by any means — definitely not as close as you were with his sister — but the two of you got along. You didn’t know much about him, and you doubted he knew much about you, but you both could hold enough of a conversation that you began to actually look forward to spending time with him.

Only because he was oddly funny in his own way, and kind of sweet, too. It had nothing to do with how nice his laugh sounded or how bright his grin was or the way he spoke to you, gently but also mischievously. You didn’t even notice these things, not one bit.

“Y/N!” he said one Saturday, banging into the kitchen excitedly. At some point, you had indeed become Y/N to him, though you couldn’t quite place when that shift had occurred. “No Seiko?”

“She’s at a meet,” you said. “She told me she’d come back once she was done with her races, but she texted me a few minutes ago that her coach is making her stay for the entire thing, and she doesn’t know how long it’ll take. I thought about going home, but then I thought that, since I’m already here, I should just wait for her.”

“I’m surprised you’re not doing homework,” he said, hopping onto the counter, a box in his hands, ostensibly filled with churros.

“It’s Saturday,” you pointed out. “I did all of my weekend work yesterday so I could be free today and tomorrow. Seiko and I were supposed to have a movie marathon, so I didn’t want to be distracted.”

“Supposed to?” he said, wandering around his kitchen, taking out cutlery and plates with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Who knows when she’ll get back? Hopefully, it’s soon, but I’m sure you’re aware of how random the meet schedules can be, so we might run out of time to have a marathon proper,” you said.

“It’s like I always say,” he said.

“She should’ve picked soccer,” you completed for him. “What makes you bring that up today?”

“Our matches are timed,” he said. “No uncertainty there. Look, forget about that for a moment. I walked past this bakery on my way back from soccer practice, and they were having a sale, so I stopped in. I asked Seiko, and she said you like these. Is that true? Because if she was lying, I’m gonna kill her.”

Instead of churros like you had expected, he was holding a plate of cupcakes, frosted in pastel shades, crystal sprinkles glittering under the ceiling lights. They were beautiful, like little flowers or jewels, and you beamed as he put them on the table and waited for you to speak.

“No way!” you said. “Are these from that place by the park? I’ve been wanting to go there for ages, but their stuff is so expensive that I could never justify it. I can’t believe they had a sale! Thank goodness you happened to walk past. I would’ve cried if I missed my chance to try their stuff.”

“So, as a girl, you’re impressed by this?” he said as you unwrapped one of the cupcakes and shoved it in your mouth. You gave him a surprised look, your chin covered in icing, sweet cake filling your cheeks. He suppressed a laugh, handing you a napkin as you rapidly chewed and swallowed.

“What d’you mean?” you said.

“I’m trying something new,” he explained. “Buying flowers is kinda lame nowadays; plus, if I get cupcakes instead, then I can also have some, so it’s a win-win.”

“I see,” you said, dabbing at your face with the napkin.

“I thought I’d ask for your feedback, since you’re the only girl I talk to regularly. Besides Seiko, obviously, but it’s not like I’m going to ask my little sister about this kind of stuff,” he said.

“I’d say I was pretty impressed,” you said. “However, I would also say you shouldn’t mention that you got them on sale.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mention that to a girl I was actually interested in,” he said. “I just told you because I knew you’d refuse to eat them otherwise.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Buying these at full price would’ve been stupid in any situation, but especially so because it’s not like you’re trying to be nice to me or anything.”

“You make me sound like a villain,” he complained. “I still got them for you, didn’t I? Why does it matter what my reasons were?”

“Your reasons are kind of villainous,” you said. “You got them for me so I could tell you whether your new strategy for picking up girls was a winner or not.”

“I compensated you for your services!” he said. “What kind of villain would do that? By the way, is it? A winner, I mean.”

“I think so, but everyone’s different. It could work with one person and not another,” you said.

“Good enough for me,” he said, patting you on the head. You paid him no mind — not true, even the lighthearted touch made you feel all squirmy and strange — and pulled out your phone, which had just vibrated with a text.

It was Seiko, and you sighed as you read the message. Eita peered over your shoulder and then hummed sympathetically.

“Ooh, is that Seiko? Yikes,” he said.

‘now the coach is making us all go to dinner as a team :/ we can have our movie marathon another time?? sorry i made you wait and then stood you up.’

A second later, your phone buzzed again.

‘i feel like eita LMAO omg pls don’t slap me like his last ex did. i’ll make it up to you another time PROMISE!!’

You would’ve laughed, but you felt so discouraged by her earlier text that you could only muster up a half-smile. Eita gasped in offense when he read the second message, drawing back and sticking his nose in the air, folding his arms over his chest.

“I can’t believe she’s airing my business out to you like that,” he said.

“I can’t believe you got slapped by your last ex,” you said, though the words lacked the teasing bite that they should’ve had. He frowned at you.

“Are you just going to go home now?” he said.

“Guess so, since Seiko won’t be back until tonight,” you said. “Oh, well. At least I got cupcakes. I’m sure the girl that you stood up wasn’t so lucky.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he said. “No, she wasn’t.”

“And you claimed you weren’t a villain,” you said, shaking your head in disappointment. “See you later. Thanks for the cupcakes.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then, just as abruptly, closed it again. You arched a brow at him, but he only smiled at you.

“See you,” he said, putting the cupcakes back in the box and handing it to you. “Take these.”

“Don’t you want them?” you said. He had never given you the extras of anything he had ever bought before, preferring to keep them so he could eat them later that night or for breakfast the next day.

“Nah, I got them for you, so you should keep them,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” you said, your fingertips brushing against his as he handed you the box. A burst of static electricity shocked you, and you bit back a hiss as you accepted it from him, not wanting to seem whiny when he hadn’t even reacted.

“Hold on,” he said as you made your way to the door. “Listen, if she stands you up again, I’ll watch the movies with you.”

“Really? They’re not your genre, so I’m sure you’ll be bored,” you said.

“You don’t even know what my genre is,” he said.

“Maybe not,” you said. “I’ll take you up on that, then, so I hope you meant it.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” he said.

“You’re not half-bad, you know,” you said thoughtfully, tucking the box under your arm so you could unlock the front door. “Seiko always calls you mean, but you’re pretty nice.”

“If she was half as agreeable as you, I wouldn’t have to be mean!” he said. “It’s way easier to be nice to you than anyone else, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. What even were you to him? Just his little sister’s best friend, or something different? Were the two of you genuinely friends, or were you just the girl he asked for help with his stupid relationships that never lasted for longer than a week? Did he like you? Did you like him? No, of course you didn’t. This was Eita Otoya. You could never like him, not if you valued your friendship with Seiko or the well-being of your heart. You didn’t like him. You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t.

“That’s good,” you said finally. “Thanks again.”

“Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” you said, and with a final look at him, you let the door swing shut and turned towards your home.

The next day, you got up early so that you could make it to the bakery before they ran out of their best wares. Eita hadn’t specified how long the sale lasted, and if there was even a chance that it was still ongoing, you wanted to take advantage of it.

Thanks to the odd hour, there wasn’t a line outside of the bakery, and you felt confident as you walked into the warm, dough-scented building. It was airy and bright, flowers and sweets in the windowsill, the display cases well-lit and stocked with a multitude of desserts. Plants hung from the ceiling, and the pale wallpaper was covered with floral motifs, small birds perching amongst the blooms. The bakery itself was so beautiful that you almost forgot what you were there for until one of the employees cleared her throat.

“Can I help you, miss?” she said.

“Hi!” you said. “A friend of mine mentioned that you were having a sale yesterday. Is that still happening?”

“A sale? We don’t do sales here, I’m afraid. Is it possible that they went somewhere else?” she said.

“No, he specifically said the place by the park,” you said, furrowing your brow. “Are you sure you didn’t happen to have a sale?”

“Positive,” she said. “I was working yesterday, too, so if you describe him, I can let you know if he came or not.”

“He’s about this tall,” you said, holding up your hand at approximately Eita’s height. “Plays soccer, silver hair with a green streak—”

“Yes! He came in right around lunchtime yesterday and bought cupcakes,” she said. “Um, is he single, by any chance?”

“As good as,” you said. You had no idea what the state of his romantic life was, but considering how quickly he jumped from girl to girl, there was almost no point in saying that he was taken. “If he ever comes back, feel free to make a move on him. He’d probably appreciate it. Moving on, do you mean to say that he got those at full price?”

“He would’ve had to,” she said. “Like I said, we don’t do sales. We’re not that kind of establishment.”

“I might faint when you answer this, so please be slow and careful when you do, but how much, exactly, is full price for what he bought?” you said. “Out of curiosity.”

She told you. You did not faint, but it was such an exorbitant number that, for a moment, you really thought you might.

The next Saturday evening, you went to the Otoyas’ with a wad of cash in your hand. Seiko and her parents were away the entire weekend for an invitational meet, but for once, she was not the one you had gone to visit, so this was of little consequence to you.

You rang the doorbell and waited with crossed arms, the humid air oppressive against your skin. According to your weather app, it was going to rain soon, and you pursed your lips at the thought that Eita might not be home and you’d get caught in the downpour with nothing to show for it.

Luckily, the door opened, revealing him standing there in a pair of shorts, his hair still damp and a towel around his neck. You focused very hard on pretending like he was wearing a shirt, even though he was not, and it worked well enough that you could just barely greet him properly.

“Y/N? Hey, I’m sorry you walked all this way, but Seiko’s not home. Did she forget to tell you she’s gone for the weekend?” he said.

“No, I’m here for you,” you said.

“Huh?” he said.

“Not like that! I mean, I went to that bakery, and the girl working there told me they never have sales, which means you paid full price for those cupcakes. That’s insane! I can’t accept that,” you said.

“So, what, are you gonna vomit them out at my feet or something? That sounds gross, please don’t,” he said.

“I’m paying you back,” you said, extending your hand and offering him the money. “Don’t even think about refusing. I already feel horrible.”

“No way,” he said. “It was a present. You don’t pay people back for presents, that’s like a faux pas or something. I think. Er, I’d have to look it up to be certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon.”

“I didn’t even do anything present-worthy, so why would you give me one?” you said.

“Yeah, you did. You helped me out, remember? Gave me advice and all,” he said.

“That was hardly worth all of this!” you said. “Seriously, at least take a little bit.”

“Nah,” he said. “You should come inside.”

“For what?” you said. “Seiko’s not here.”

“True, but I feel bad that you walked for nothing, so it’s the least I can do,” he said.

“It wasn’t for nothing. It was to pay you back, which I will do, and after that I’ll go home,” you said.

“Doubt it,” he said. “Come on, it’s going to rain soon. If you get sick and blame me for it, my sister will kill me.”

Reluctantly, you followed him into the kitchen, hyper aware that you both were alone. It had never been like this before; always, someone else had been in the house, whether his mother or father or one of his sisters. You shouldn’t have cared that it was just the two of you, but you found that you did. It was as uncomfortable and strange as the turbulent skies and muggy atmosphere, but also pleasant in a way, like the sweet smell of yeast in a bakery or flower petals dusting against the crackled tops of sugar cookies in a windowsill.

“Do you like Super Smash Bros.?” he said, taking the towel and rubbing his head vigorously, giving him the frazzled appearance of a hedgehog, or perhaps an electrocuted cat of the cartoonish variety.

“It’s fun, but I’m not that good. Seiko usually beats me,” you said.

“We can play, if you want,” he said.

“Okay?” you said. “Why?”

“I’m just trying to think of things that we can do, since you’re here and all,” he said.

“What were you planning on doing if I didn’t come?” you said.

“I was going to go on a date,” he said.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you actually had plans! I should leave so you can get to that,” you said. He waved you off dismissively, already turning the console on and connecting the controllers.

“It’s fine, I already canceled on her. Hopefully she gets the hint. If I have to spell it out to her that I’m not interested anymore, it’ll be annoying,” he said.

The TV flashed with the starting screen, the music blaring as you sat on opposite ends of the couch, remotes in hand. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, and you thought that you should probably send your location to your parents so that they didn’t get worried. While Eita messed with the settings, you did that, receiving affirmative responses from both of them in turn — which made sense, as neither of them knew that Mr. and Mrs. Otoya, along with Seiko, weren’t home.

“Do you care what map we use?” he said.

“Seiko and I usually just go random,” you said. “So whatever you want is fine.”

“Random is the best,” he said. “Especially when you get the interactive maps that actively try to kill you. It’s way more exciting that way.”

“Exactly,” you said. Half of yours and Seiko’s matches were decided based on who could adjust to the map faster; sadly for you, this was frequently your best friend, and only very rarely you.

“What character do you play? I know Seiko likes Palutena, so probably not her, right?” he said.

“I only ever play as girl characters, but my favorite is Zero Suit Samus,” you said, clicking on her and changing her outfit so that it was the burgundy version.

“You only play as girl characters? Why?” he said.

“It’s the best way to bond with your avatar. If you can’t connect with your character, then how can you hope to win?” you said.

“Are you for real?” he said. You maintained a straight face for as long as you could before breaking into laughter.

“Obviously not. I just like playing as characters I think are pretty, since I don’t have much of a chance at winning either way,” you said.

“That makes sense,” he said. “I play as Sheik. He’s based off of a ninja, so it makes sense.”

It was your turn to give him a strange look. “What?”

“Because we’re descended from ninjas and all, so I have to stick with the theme. It’s like the Otoya brand,” he explained.

“I got that part,” you said. “What do you mean by he, though? Sheik is a girl.”

He paused right before clicking on Sheik, his eyes wide. “No way. He’s obviously a guy.”

“Not so,” you said. “I looked up a list of all female characters in Smash when I was trying to pick a main, and Sheik was on it. She’s Princess Zelda’s alter-ego, apparently.”

“Are you messing with me again?” he said.

“No, not this time,” you said. He mulled this over before shrugging and clicking on the character’s icon anyways.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’m used to her, so there’s no point in changing. Besides, it doesn’t really matter if she’s a girl.”

“Very true,” you said. “Alright, I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Be prepared,” he warned you as he pressed the start button and the screen switched to a countdown. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you said. “Considering how frequently I’m pummeled by your sister, I’m used to losing.”

“Good. Get used to it more,” he said, immediately starting off before you could even orient yourself on the map. “Bang! Gotcha! You really are bad at this.”

“Just as an aside, the TV makes sound effects, so you don’t need to add more of your own,” you said, wrinkling your nose and dodging out of his next attack.

“It makes it more fun,” he said. “You should try it. Really helps you get in the zone.”

“Hm,” you said. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Somehow, you and Eita were actually evenly matched, and during the final round, you knocked his character off of the edge, guarding it until he couldn’t hope to recover and fell to his defeat.

“Yay!” you said as the victory screen showed your character posing. “I haven’t won in ages! This is awesome.”

“Rematch! You only won because you’re one of those dirty edge guarders!” he said, already setting up the next game.

“‘Dirty edge guarders?’ That’s how the game is played,” you said.

“Nuh-uh, it’s against the rules,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“No? There aren’t really rules in Smash. How do you not know this? Also, you should really stop saying things when you don’t even know if they’re true,” you said.

“My older sister would always tell me it was against the rules when we used to play,” he said. You waited for it to dawn on him; when it did, he groaned and facepalmed. “She was full of shit?”

“I’m afraid you were, in fact, duped,” you said.

“No wonder she always beat me,” he grumbled. “Whenever I was close to winning, she’d say whatever I was doing was against the rules.”

“That would do it,” you said. “I don’t mind playing again, though.”

“This time I’ll beat you for sure,” he said. “Now that I don’t have to abide by any bullshit guidelines.”

The two of you got wrapped up in a series of matches, eventually turning on the random character selector as well as the random map selector, refusing to read the tutorials so you were really going into things blind and figuring it out as you went. You had way more fun than you had expected you would, and as the evening went on, any thoughts of feeling self-conscious vanished from your mind. It was just Eita Otoya, after all. He was only your best friend’s older brother, the one who brought you treats and played soccer and sucked at Smash and had a childish sense of humor. There was no reason to feel shy. Well, besides the fact that he had never opted to put a shirt on, but that was a non-issue when your attention was focused solely on the screen.

You weren’t sure how many rounds you had gotten through when his phone rang, so shrilly and insistently that he was forced to pause the game and take the call. He didn’t leave his spot on the couch, though, which meant you were able to observe him as the girl on the other end began to scream.

“How could you cancel on me at the last minute?” she said, loud enough that you could hear her, though his phone wasn’t on speakerphone.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he said. “I just texted you and said I’m not going.”

“You’re such a piece of shit. I thought — I thought everyone was wrong about you, but they weren’t. They weren’t at all,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that they were,” he said. “Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now, so could you hurry up and say what you want to say?”

“Did you ever even like me?” she said.

“Yeah, at first,” he said.

“Not anymore, though,” she said.

“Guess not,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Is that it? You’re ending things just like that? Didn’t it mean anything to you? I bragged to all of my friends about you! You were so sweet, and you even got me cookies…was it all just a game?” she said.

“It wasn’t a game,” he said. “As I said, I liked you back then. I wouldn’t have done all of that if I didn’t.”

“Because that’s supposed to make me feel all better,” she said.

“I’m just explaining myself,” he said.

“You’re the worst. You’re — just, you’re the worst, ugh!” she said before hanging up. Eita made a face at the phone and then put it facedown on the table beside him, unpausing the game without a wasted moment.

“They were from the grocery store,” he said after a bit.

“What?” you said.

“The cookies I got her. Grocery store variety,” he said.

“Oh. That’s kinda shitty,” you said.

“She seemed pretty happy about them regardless,” he said. “I wasn’t about to waste my money when I knew it wouldn’t last.”

“You wasted your money on me,” you pointed out. The corners of his mouth quirked up.

“You’re Seiko’s best friend. I’m pretty sure you’re not going anywhere, so it’s not a big deal. Consider it a peace offering for not believing you were real at first,” he said, landing a combo attack on your character.

“That was ages ago,” you said.

“It’s downright traumatizing for a person when others don’t think they’re real. Fucks up their psyche and whatnot. Acknowledging my mistake was the least I could do,” he said.

“Another fact you just made up?” you said.

“Maybe,” he said. “Was it plausible?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said.

“I tried,” he said. “Woah, nice one, Y/N.”

You had just hit his character in a series of successive blows, entirely by accident but to devastating effect. He lost his first life, respawning in and jumping back to the offensive.

“Why do you even do it?” you said, finally vocalizing the question that had been bothering you for almost the entire time that you had known him.

“Do what?” he said.

“Date people, when you know you’re going to break up with them so quickly,” you said. “What’s the point?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, the glare of the screen reflecting in his fern-colored irises. “It’s always fun at first. I meet a pretty girl, and I talk her into giving me her number. We go on a date or two, and I think it might actually be different this time, but it never is. By the third or fourth date, I’m bored beyond belief and dreading going on another. Then we break up and I do it all again.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“Near the end, it is,” he said. “But it’s pretty amusing in the beginning, so I don’t see a reason to stop.”

“Do you cheat on your girlfriends?” you said. You knew for sure what he would say, but still, you wanted to hear it from him.

“What is this, interview-Eita-day? Yeah, I have in the past, but only a couple of times,” he said. “Both of them were when the relationships were on their last legs and I couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.”

“That’s callous,” you said. “You should’ve just broken up with them.”

“Dumping girls is the worst. They get all upset and start crying, and I know I should feel bad because I’m the reason, but by that point, I just want to go home,” he said. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“A little bit,” you said. “For the most part, though, I just don’t understand. Why do you keep going for people you know you’re going to get tired of?”

“It’s not like I can look in the future and see that I’m going to end up bored,” he said. “It just happens. We run out of things to talk about and sit there in silence. It sucks. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“How does that even happen?” you said. “You talk all the time with me. I didn’t think you were capable of running out of things to say.”

“That’s different,” he said. “I’m not worried about impressing you — no offense — and you’re funny, plus you like some of the same things as me, so it’s easy to have a conversation with you. It’s not the case when you’re going out with someone. You’ll understand when you decide to date yourself.”

“Don’t the girls you go out with like the same things as you?” you said.

“Not really,” he said. “They think video games are for losers, and they’re too scared to go on the rides at amusement parks. Some of them understand soccer, but not to the point that it’s something they’d want to talk about frequently.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you said. “You’re only going out with people who you have zero shared interests with. It’s normal that you’d get bored of them, and that they’d get bored in return.”

“You’re thinking too much about it,” he said. “It’s not that deep.”

“That’s how it works,” you said. “Quite fundamentally, actually. It’s impossible to build a relationship with someone when you both have nothing in common. In fact, it’s unfair to all involved parties.”

“Are you trying to give me advice?” he said.

“Depends. Will you take it seriously if I do?” you said.

“Not sure. It’s kind of ridiculous for me to be listening to my little sister’s friend about this kind of thing,” he said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you said.

“True,” he said. “Go ahead, then.”

“What do you even look for when you’re thinking of dating a girl?” you said.

“How hot she is,” he said. You waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

“That’s it?” you said.

“Pretty much,” he said.

“Why?” you said.

“Why not? Isn’t physical attraction important?” he said.

“To a certain extent, yes, but after a while, less and less so,” you said. “Haven’t you ever watched any romance movies? ‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts.’ Physical attraction alone isn’t enough in the long term.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Are there any girls you genuinely enjoy spending time with? Not romantically, just because you like talking to them, even if they’re not the prettiest or whatever,” you said.

“I don’t really spend time with girls unless I’m trying to date them. It never works out. They always end up liking me, and besides, it makes my girlfriends mad if I’m friends with other girls,” he said.

“You seriously have zero female friends,” you deadpanned.

“And just how many male friends do you have?” he shot back.

“None,” you said. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Wait, no, I guess we’re friends,” he said. “Yeah, you’re cool, Y/N. I mean, you’re pretty as well, but I don’t really think about that part much because you’re friends with Seiko.”

“Thanks,” you said. “You’re cool, too.”

“Now what? You’re a girl, and I like talking to you. Where do I go from there?” he said.

“I was going to say you should try dating one of those girls instead, but obviously that’s not applicable here,” you said.

“Ah,” he said. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m all that unique,” you said, taking advantage of his distraction to win another match. “It won’t be that hard for you to find someone else that you like hanging out with, and then you can just date them. Hopefully, you won’t get bored with a relationship like that.”

Eita didn’t respond. You doubted he knew how to and you were glad for his silence, because you yourself felt embarrassed that you had tried so hard to help him. Since when had you been the kind of girl who wanted so badly to give people guidance? He had his problems, no one could deny that, but why did you care about them? Why did it matter to you if he was happy, or if he grew out of whatever phase he was currently in?

Maybe it was because you knew he could be better. The caricature of him that you heard about, from Seiko and from the rumors around your high school, contrasted so harshly with the Eita Otoya you knew. People loved him because they wanted to be him, to have that effortless and selfish attitude towards life, but you didn’t think that very many of them took the time to understand him.

You doubted anyone at school knew that he was horrible at Super Smash Bros., or that he was entirely gullible and liked to make other people laugh. How many of them would find him admirable if they knew of his addiction to churros and diet sodas? He wasn’t cool or charming or suave the way he pretended to be. At the end of the day, he was nothing but a dumb boy blessed with a handsome enough mien that had fallen into a crowd which demanded more of him than he honestly should’ve had to give.

Putting this protectiveness down as a symptom of your friendship with Seiko — of course you cared for her older brother, he was a part of her family and you cared about her, it only made sense — you noticed that there was a lull in the storm. Bidding Eita farewell and shoving the money into his phone case when he was preoccupied with turning the game off, you ran home before it could begin to rain again, blaming your queasiness on the fact that you had not yet eaten dinner and nothing more.

“Eita’s been talking about you a lot,” Seiko said to you at lunch one day, a couple of weeks after the evening you had spent with her brother. Both you and he had mutually agreed not to bring it up, and Seiko was none the wiser, or at least so you had thought.

“What do you mean?” you said. She took a sip out of her juice box.

“Nothing bad. He just asks me how you’re doing and stuff,” she said.

“That’s not that weird. Why’d you bring it up?” you said. For a moment, you had thought she meant that he was asking about you for a different reason, but this just sounded like a typical and general concern.

“It’s a little weird. He doesn’t typically care about how other people are doing. The other day, he asked me when you’re coming over again, since according to him it’s ‘been a while.’ Like he’s keeping track or something!” she said.

“He’s not wrong. It has been a bit,” you said.

“I know, I know,” she said. “Season’s almost over, and then I’m all yours.”

“You don’t have off-season workouts?” you said.

“Fuck off-season workouts,” she said. “I’ll skip on the days we plan to hang out. My coach won’t say anything. I’m the star of the team, so he has to live with it.”

“You’re the best,” you said.

“And you’re trying to change the subject!” she said. “Are the two of you buddy-buddy now or something?”

“Or something,” you said. “We’ve just spoken a few times while I was waiting for you to come back home from practices.”

She narrowed her eyes at you before nodding slowly. “Look, just so you know, I don’t mind if you’re friends with him or anything.”

“That’s good. I’ll keep it in mind,” you said.

“He’s my brother, after all. I like knowing that my best friend is getting along with my family,” she continued.

“I get along with your family so well that I’m surprised they haven’t started calling me Y/N Otoya yet,” you said.

“But I want you to be aware of what kind of person he is,” she said with a note of finality. “He might do something that hurts your feelings.”

“You’ve told me. Many times, actually,” you said.

“And I don’t want you to stop being friends with me if he does,” she said. “Okay?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you said. “You’re my best friend in the entire world.”

“You promise?” she said, in a rare show of vulnerability.

“Promise,” you said. She punched you in the arm, returning back to being the Seiko you knew.

“Good. Then do what you want with him,” she said.

“What?” you said.

“Just saying! You deserve better, obviously, but I won’t turn down a chance to have you as my sister-in-law,” she said. “Besides, he knows that if he messes with you, I’ll take your side, so that might be an incentive for him to stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Seiko! It’s not like that!” you said. “I don’t have feelings for him. He’s your brother.”

“Whatever you say,” she said in a sing-song voice, taking another sip of her juice box, obviously done with the discussion.

She knew you better than you knew yourself. That was what happened when a person was best friends with another for years upon years, and that was why she understood even before you did what it was that was brewing between you and her brother, what had been brewing since long before that evening where you had finally noticed a palpable shift in your dynamic.

Exam season began shortly afterwards, so you didn’t have the time to go to the Otoyas’ when you were so wrapped up in studying. Then, once exams were finished, Seiko was finally freed from her grueling practice schedule, leaving her to be, as she had said earlier, all yours. This meant that even when you did go to their house, you were solely there to be with her, and so you saw little of Eita, barely speaking to him beyond exchanging pleasantries.

Sometimes you wondered how he was doing. Had he found a girl he actually liked and ended up dating her? How was that relationship going, if so? Or was he still continuing as he had been, chasing whoever he found the most attractive and then running away from them when things inevitably didn’t work out? You hoped that that wasn’t the case, though you didn’t find the former option all that appealing, either. You should’ve, because it would’ve meant that he had taken your words to heart, but you didn’t. The thought of him dating anyone was wrong and weird and you didn’t like it, but because you weren’t quite sure why that was, you decided to avoid both the feeling and its cause alike.

Halfway through summer break, on a day when your parents were on a business trip and Seiko was visiting one of her cousins in the city, Eita Otoya showed up on your front porch, knocking on the door furiously until you opened it. He was just about the last person you had expected to be standing there, red in the face and panting for breath, wearing a sweat-soaked jersey, hair sticking to his forehead and a white box in his hands.

“You look horrible,” you said.

“I ran all of the way here,” he said. “After my soccer game.”

“What for?” you said.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said.

“I was just at your house the other day,” you said. “Jeez, you look like you’re about to pass out. Let me get you some water. You really could’ve walked, you know…”

He had never been to your house, so he trailed after you dutifully, sitting at the dining table and gulping down the glass of water you offered him within seconds. Taking it back, you refilled it and gave it to him again.

“You were there for Seiko, not me,” he said.

“She’s my best friend,” you said. “Obviously I was there for her.”

“And what am I?” he said.

“Not that,” you said.

“I should be upset, but for some reason, I’m kind of glad that you said that,” he said. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Rude much?” you said, his words stinging. “Is that all you came here to tell me? If you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine, but was there really a need for you to come to my house and announce it? How’d you even get my address?”

“Seiko told me,” he said.

“In hindsight, I should’ve seen that coming,” you said.

“I haven’t dated anyone,” he said, all in a rush, the sentences tumbling out of his mouth like he was not sure if he’d ever get the chance to say them again. “Not since that night that we played video games together.”

“Seriously? If I ask Seiko, will she confirm that?” you said.

“Of course! I’m a lot of things, I know that, but I’m not a liar. I’ve never tried to hide who I am, especially not from you,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “That’s good, then. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve tried finding the kind of person you described,” he said. “Someone like you. You said it would be easy, but it’s not. It’s really fucking difficult.”

“Maybe you should look harder, then,” you said, rolling your eyes and placing his empty cup in the dishwasher before you forgot about it. “There’s no way I’m the only girl in the entire city that you can bring yourself to genuinely like.”

“You’re the only one I want to like,” he said. You froze in the middle of putting dish detergent in the dispenser, giving him an incredulous look.

“I’m what?” you said.

“I get that you probably don’t feel the same way. To be honest, I didn’t even realize that I did until Seiko yelled at me about it, because it’s not like it usually is. I want to spend time with you, as much as possible, even if we’re not doing anything but eating snacks or playing games. I want to listen to you talk, even if it’s about something that I think is boring. I want to buy things that’ll make you happy — the nice versions, not the kinds from the grocery store, because I don’t want to imagine that it won’t last. I want it to last,” he said.

You stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the most unlikely. What was it about you that made you so different, that the ever-fickle and brutally honest Eita Otoya was driven to such a confession? You knew he wasn’t making it up, because he was right — he never did. Not once had he ever tried to mislead a girl about who he was, and you sensed that this was much the same. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t believe him. It was that you simply couldn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” you said.

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say?” he said. “I like you. I think I have for a while now. At first, I thought it was just because you were my sister’s friend, but according to her, you normally don’t feel this way for the friends of your siblings.”

“You’ve been talking to Seiko about me?” you said. Suddenly, the side comments she had been making recently made a lot more sense.

“Who else would I go to? It was humiliating, asking her for help, but you guys have known each other for forever, so I figured it was the best option,” he said.

“That’s true,” you said, starting the dishwasher and pushing it shut. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“If you’re going to reject me, don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you all of that because I was expecting you to say yes. I just wanted you to know that — that I did take what you said into consideration,” he said.

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It must’ve been weird, following the advice of your younger sister’s best friend.”

“You’re more than that,” he said. “You’re more than just Seiko’s friend to me. You’ve been more than that for a long time now.”

“Why me?” you said. “Why is it me, and not one of the hundreds of other girls that would jump at the chance to fix you, to be the one who finally got Eita Otoya to settle down for good?”

“It’s that bratty little sister of mine’s fault,” he said. “Because of her, you kept showing up, and by the time I noticed, it was way too late. At that point, I was already asking her what your favorite desserts were, just so I could get them for you.”

“I see,” you said.

“Besides, being with someone who wants to fix another person sounds awful. Do you want to fix me?” he said.

“If you expect me to, then you should probably just leave,” you said. “I don’t mind helping when I can, but the only person that can fix you is you.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You mentioned once that cheaters can grow somewhere far away from you.”

“Hm? Oh, I did say something along those lines, didn’t I? That was over a year ago, though,” you said, thinking back to that random conversation, unsure of why he even remembered it.

“I’ve done it,” he said. “It was hard, but I’ve done it anyways. For you, but also for myself. I’m not so sure that the highs are worth the lows anymore, and besides, I hate doing things I don’t like, and dating around is becoming one of those things.”

“Is that so?” you said. “I’m glad you realized that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too. Uh, I should probably go now, so…here. For last time. You shouldn’t have paid me back. Don’t even think about pulling something like that again.”

He opened the box, revealing an assortment of cookies, all the different kinds you liked. You didn’t need to ask him to know where he had gotten them from, and you admired them as he stood and pushed in his chair.

“Thanks for hearing me out, Y/N,” he said. “And don’t worry, I won’t make things uncomfortable, so feel free to visit Seiko whenever. I’ll stay out of your way when you come over. She doesn’t have any other friends, so don’t ditch her just because of me.”

“You’re pretty self-important, aren’t you?” you teased. “Did you think I’d give her up just because of you? Not likely. Anyways, why would things be uncomfortable?”

“Usually it’s pretty unpleasant to have to be around someone when you know they have unreciprocated feelings for you,” he said.

“I don’t think they’re unreciprocated,” you said. He quite literally paused in his tracks, foot still raised in the air as he spun to face you.

“What? You should’ve said so earlier!” he said. “Do you mean I was acting all angsty and emotional for nothing?”

“I wanted to make you suffer a bit,” you said. “I mean this gently, but you deserve it.”

He hung his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’ve liked you for a while as well, though like you said, I hardly understood it myself, and I didn’t have the benefit of Seiko drumming it into my mind — mostly because that’s not the kind of conversation you really want to have with your best friend about her brother,” you said. “I also knew about your reputation, and no matter how wonderful I found you, I was a little wary, so I never gave it much thought.”

“But now?” he said.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to reject a guy who runs to your house with cookies and a dramatic speech about how much he likes you,” you said.

“When you put it like that, I sound like a loser,” he said.

“I want you to consider that you play Super Smash Bros. in your free time, and that you are obsessed with anything ninja or Naruto related, and then I would like for you to repeat that statement with the same indignation you just said it with,” you said. He huffed in defeat.

“That’s fair enough,” he said.

“Like I said, I do like you, but I’m not in the business of fixing people. The second you start getting bored or wanting to cheat on me, break up with me, and be an adult about it. Don’t run away. Just be honest, and for my part, I’ll hold back my tears until you’ve left, alright? If you can swear you’ll do that, then I don’t mind trying,” you said.

“You’re way too nice to me,” he said.

“I can add in more demands, if you’d like,” you said.

“Now, I didn’t say you had to do that,” he said. You chuckled.

“I thought you were really serious about me, though?” you said. “Since you mentioned it, I do have one more condition. Say yes, and I’ll be your girlfriend. Say no, and…you better get back to searching.”

“What is it?” he said eagerly, grabbing your hands and holding them in between his own. “I’ll do anything.”

“You have to be the one to tell Seiko,” you said. He paled.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“Just did,” you said. He scrunched up his face in thought, obviously imagining his sister’s reaction. Though she had given both of you her blessings in her own way, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d give the two of you a hard time — especially him, considering the fact that she already did that without even having a reason to.

“I’ll do it, but you have to come along,” he bargained. “Someone has to nurse me back to health once she’s through with me. It might as well be you.”

“You’re in no place to be asking for things,” you said.

“Please?” he said. “She’s scary as hell, and I’m saying this as someone who regularly plays against guys big enough to become pro wrestlers.”

“Alright, alright,” you said. “I’ll come with you, and I’ll put bandages on all your bruises.”

He grinned at you. “Deal.”

“Deal,” you said.

“Then I guess you’re my girlfriend now,” he said.

“I guess I am,” you said.

“Nice,” he said. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

You snorted. “Why not?”

So you sat down on the sofa — next to each other this time, not on opposite sides, your head leaning on his shoulder and his thigh pressed against your own — and you did just that.

“So let me get this straight,” Seiko said. Eita, who had just delivered the news, was attempting to hide behind you, which was a largely ineffective method of disguise. “You two are officially dating.”

“Pretty much,” you said, when it became obvious that Eita was too petrified to respond. It was funny — he talked such a big game when it was just words, and he was the first to make fun of Seiko, but as soon as the prospect of a fight came up, he cowered away, as any smart man would.

“Interesting,” she said. “Eita, come here. I just want to say something.”

He shuffled out towards Seiko, head bowed and hands clasped together. “Yes?”

“If you ever hurt even a cell in the bodies of the mites that live on her eyelashes—”

“What the fuck?” you said. “That’s disgusting. Thanks, Seiko, now I’m going to be scrubbing my eyelashes for the next week.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone has them. They’re normal,” Seiko said. “Like I was saying, Eita, if you mess with her, I’ll kill you. Forget about sibling loyalty; it all goes out the door on that day, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said.

“Good,” she said, nodding in satisfaction. He looked around like he was searching for a camera, obviously in disbelief that she had let him off so easily.

“Is that it?” he said.

“For now,” she said. “Ask me again in a few months and the answer might change.”

“I’ll take it,” he said. “Well, see you later. Let’s go upstairs, Y/N.”

“What? Y/N and I have plans to bake together tonight!” Seiko said.

“No way, we’re watching TV together! I’m going to make her watch all of Naruto!” he argued. In unison, they both turned to you, waiting for your response, waves of hostility rolling off of them.

“Oh, boy,” you said, already feeling a headache coming on. “This is going to be a lot more annoying than I anticipated.”

#otoya x reader #otoya x y/n #otoya x you #otoya eita #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #best friend’s brother au #best friend’s brother fic #m1ckeyb3rry writes

270 notes · View notes

mimikyuno · 3 months ago

Text

trans representation: my hopes and fears about mizuki5 🏳️‍⚧️

im writing this post so that i can keep a record of all of my current thoughts on the upcoming n25 event, which im fairly certain will come soon (september?). i just. i have a lot of thoughts on this topic and i wanna share them before the event drops.

disclaimer: i am tme, and while i am not cis, i am not transfem.

depiction of transfeminine characters in anime has been quite… how do i even put this into words. trans women are depicted as either a joke, or as an “otokonoko” which for brevity’s sake let’s translate to femboy (i highly recommend on reading on the history of the term though). the trope of “tr*ps” was quite common, and used for comedic effects. i think of ruka from steins;gate, who is clearly a trans woman; she has dysphoria, asks okabe to go back in time so she can be born biologically female etc. yet, her womanhood is never taken seriously. “she’s a dude after all.”

i have already written a small post about the history of the “otokonoko” label and the way trans women consistently get third gendered in the anime scene so i won’t repeat myself. the thing is, many transfem characters i have seen in anime are either uncracked eggs or, when out, are often not taken seriously by the rest of the cast. a lot of transfem characters i know of fall in between being an uncracked egg and being out; these would be the very many “girly boys” who identify as male, while living their lives as women and being happy about passing, while people around them who know about their agab either treat them as men or third-gender them. for example, kuranosuke from kuragehime stays an egg throughout the series. as i mentioned in a previous post, i see makoto from the currently airing senpai wa otokonoko as a closeted trans girl struggling with internalised transphobia. she has dysphoria, is happier and feels like her ��real self” when presenting as a girl, displays gender euphoria when she passes, and more. narratively, she is coded as a girl. i havent read the manga, but i know the author drops the ball, and makoto never gets to come out in the series.

i can only think of a handful of trans women who are both out AND are taken seriously within the narrative. for example hana from tokyo godfathers, nao-chan from skip and loafer, or isabella from paradise kiss (iirc). though i have not watched these anime, i know that lily from zombieland saga, alluka from hxh, seiko from lovely complex and shuuichi from wandering son also tick both the “out of the closet” and “taken seriously” categories.

the situation is slightly different in manga. in manga, i have always found more trans representation (both transmasc and transfem). however, before we move on to mizuki, i really want to talk about one of my favourite mangas, namely “love me for who i am”, aka fukaboku (anime adaptation when ;-;). this manga revolves around mogumo, a non binary teen who is struggling to make friends. their classmate, a cis boy, mistakes mogumo for an otokonoko, and invites them to work at the crossdressing cafe that his sister (a trans woman) owns. mogumo is initially upset; they are not a girly boy, they are non binary. mogumo is reassured that the cafe is a place for people to be who they are, and they dont have to identify as an otokonoko to work there. this strikes a nerve with mei, one of the kids working there, who is a closeted trans girl. throughout the manga, these characters all come to be more and more unapologetically themselves. lgbt themes are addressed constantly (they even go to a pride parade!!) and the trans women depicted in this manga are some of the best written ones i have come across. because they are actually acknowledged as women.

the reason why i want to talk about fukaboku before discussing mizuki, is that the 4 kids who work at the cafe cover the spectrum of “crossdressing boys” we usually see in anime, though taking it a step further with mogumo and mei. firstly we have ten-chan. he mostly identifies as a boy. he likes anime and manga and cosplaying, he’s into girls (but also hinted to bi maybe? i need to reread this), and he’s an adorable weirdo. to him, dressing as a girl in the cafe is fun, clothes have no gender to him. then there is sou, who is gay and also identifies with his agab. sou has a boyfriend, and the cafe is the only place where he gets to gush about him and feel accepted. he likes cute clothes but always dresses masculinely outside the cafe. then there’s mogumo. as mentioned, mogumo is non binary. they like cute things, so they sometimes like feminine clothes like the maid uniform they wear at the cafe, but they actually prefer a cute androgynous style (they often wear shorts instead of skirts). lastly, mei (my fave, my daughter, light of my life). at the beginning of the manga, mei is a closeted trans girl. initially, she resents mogumo for rejecting the “girly boy” (otokonko) label that she thought she had to embrace to survive and be who she is. thanks to mogumo’s courage, and the guidance of two older trans women (one of which is the owner of the cafe and the other is her friend, who works in fashion), she finds a more stable sense of herself, and canonically and textually identifies as a girl.

AND NOW, onto mizuki. first things first, i see her as a trans girl. her struggle with her identity, the way she presents, her history of bullying, dysphoria (the covered mirrored), and depression (in middle school, before transitioning), visual metaphors (all the pink and blue symbols, i should make a post about this tbh) all hint at her being trans. i really dont think mizuki is an otokonoko; typically, in anime narrative, when there is an otokonoko, the fact is revealed early on, and the struggles are about being accepted as a boy who dresses like a girl or as a funny gag (tr*p). tbh, i think it wouldnt make sense for mizuki to be an otokono. if she were, her main struggle would be to accept that she wants to dress as a girl. once accepted, the arc should be resolved. and she wouldn’t be scared to say “hey im a boy” when people assume she’s a girl. especially with niigo? they met online when she was still pre-transition, if she was an otokonoko it would have made more sense if niigo thought she was a boy, and then irl saw that she looks like a girl and THAT would have been the obstacle. but that is not the case with mizuki. she is happy in people assuming she is a girl, and is terrified of being outed. that is not in line with the trope of otonoko. in fukaboku, we have two characters who are Actually “girly boys”, ten-chan and sou, and neither are like mizuki at all. they dont present femininely with their family nor at school. mizuki is way more similar to mei, when it comes to gender presentation and identity. characters who are similar to mizuki from other media and who dont identify as girls all share the same trait: they are commonly regarded as eggs.

my hope for mizuki5, is that she gets to come out as trans to ena and the rest of niigo. mizuki being confirmed trans, indirectly or not, would make the most narrative sense, looking at her story, imagery, and the build-up for the reveal. and while i desperately hope this is the case, i am overwhelmed by fear. times are changing in the anime scene, and we got canonically gay and trans characters in similar games (the lesbian couple in d4dj or the trans girl in enstars). however, project sekai is massive in japan, and quite renowned internationally too. and that comes with expectations and pressures. when gundam witch from mercury finished airing, bandai namco had to issue a statement that the relationship between miorine and suletta was “up to interpretation”, despite the fact that the two literally get married. gundam is also a huge franchise, and bandai namco chose to issue a statement that would give them plausible deniability. not only is project sekai huge, but as i previously mentioned, representation of transfeminine characters overwhelmingly labels them as an otokonoko. i think the label of “otokonoko” is very useful when it comes to plausible deniability in media; u can see this character as a closeted trans girl, or as a crossdressing boy. you pleased the transgenders, and you pleased the transphobes. expect, u didnt please us. im gonna say it, i hate the crossdressing boy trope in animanga. in most instances, it’s a way to deny the character their identity, and in others, it’s treated as a means (willingly or not) to perpetrate violent and harmful transmisogynistic jokes and stereotypes. tho i will admit, i love a lot of “otokonoko” characters, tho for my mental health i tend to view as transfem nb or just trans women.

project sekai, with the massive reach it has, has the opportunity to give its audience a canonically transfem character. a character who is a fan favorite, whose story has, so far, been handled with so much love, kindness and understanding. mizuki could become the new standard, she could change the way transfem characters are portrayed in mainstream animanga for real. i know we have to let go of the expectations that queer characters have to verbally and explicitly state their identity for them to be taken seriously by the audience but fr i hope this will be the case for this event. i dont think most people would get it otherwise, and will just keep seeing mizuki as an otokonoko. which is in itself sad; being cishet is such a default, that gay and/or characters who never explicitly come out are either misunderstood or seen as a sign of “queerbaiting” (dont get me started on yuribaiting and how insane some of y’all are calling a show with gay women “yuribait” if they dont kiss or say “I AM A HOMOSEXUAL WOMAN).

mizuki’s and ena’s VAs told us to please be kind and understand the characters in preparation for the upcoming event. i hope they go for it. i really, really do. this could for real be a huge game changer in the industry. i see how project sekai keeps inspiring other shows and games (i should make a post about this too lol), so i hope mizuki won’t be third gendered, or shoved into the otokonoko label. i hope she gets to be herself. a girl. and be accepted as one by ena and the rest of niigo. it could be huge. or it could be a flop. no in between. which is why im both excited and terrified of this event. SEGA pls-

#LONG POST #this is mostly for myself #can you tell im freaking out #project sekai #prsk #niigo #n25 #mizuki akiyama #mine

54 notes · View notes

mya-valentine · 1 month ago

Note

Ahh!.. Thank you for noticing my request!.. And I hope you liked Seiko!

(Can I please do a part 2 where my big chungus girl is their S/O instead?)

Headcannon: Dabi and Tomura Shigaraki With a SUPER Tall S/O Part 2

A/N: Yeah, sure no problem. I kinda thought you wanted her as an S/O but I didn't want to be wrong. I hope this is more to your liking 🩷

Dabi

Dabi would absolutely lean into the height difference for constant, playful teasing. He’d always be saying things like, “Hey, giant, need me to get you a ladder to climb down here?” or “You must have a pretty good view from all the way up there, huh?” He’s the type who loves to provoke, but it’s never malicious—just his way of showing affection.

Despite the teasing, Dabi secretly finds it incredibly attractive. He loves that his S/O can literally look down on everyone and command a room just by standing in it. The height adds a certain power and intensity that he finds captivating. Though he won’t admit it openly, he likes the sense of protection they provide when they’re around.

Dabi, who generally acts cool and tough, has a surprisingly soft spot when it comes to his S/O. When they’re alone, he enjoys the contrast in size. He’ll lean into them, rest his head against their chest, and soak up the comfort they provide, especially when he’s stressed or tired. He likes that he can almost disappear against them, feeling a rare sense of safety.

When things get intense, Dabi would have no problem using his S/O’s height and size to his advantage. He might quip, “Go crush them for me, babe,” when they’re in the middle of a fight. He loves watching the shock on people’s faces when his giant S/O steps into the fray, towering over their enemies.

Though Dabi knows his tall S/O can handle themselves, he’s still fiercely protective. If anyone disrespects them or makes comments about their height in a way he doesn’t like, he’d get heated, ready to burn anyone who crosses the line. His usual nonchalance disappears when it comes to them, and he wouldn’t hesitate to defend his partner, physically or verbally.

Tomura Shigaraki

At first, Tomura would be slightly annoyed by the height difference. He already has issues with feeling out of control, so having a partner so much taller than him would throw him off. His ego might make him grumble things like, “Why do you have to be so tall?” But this would mostly stem from his own insecurities.

Over time, though, Tomura would start to appreciate the unique dynamic their height difference brings. He’d come to admire how his S/O’s height gives them a natural, intimidating presence. In fact, he’d see it as a powerful asset and begin to find comfort in knowing that his S/O is always there, towering over potential threats.

Tomura is already a possessive person by nature, but with a giant S/O, he’d get oddly proud of their size. When people stare, he’d glare right back at them, as if to say, “Yeah, that’s right. They’re mine.” He might not say it aloud, but he likes the idea of being the one who controls the attention his S/O gets.

Always thinking tactically, Tomura would often factor his S/O’s height into his plans. “You can block off escape routes, or take care of anyone who tries to challenge us head-on.” He’d be fascinated by how much easier it is to intimidate others with them by his side and would often rely on their size to make enemies think twice before crossing him.

While Tomura isn’t overly affectionate in public, he’d show his softer side behind closed doors. He might curl up next to them when he’s had a rough day, using their size as a sort of protective shield. He’d never admit it, but he finds comfort in their presence and how they make him feel small, in a way that allows him to let down his guard.

Tomura, deep down, is impressed by power in all its forms. His S/O’s height naturally comes with physical strength and presence, and though he’d never say it out loud, he respects them deeply for it. Watching them in battle, using their size to overpower enemies, would only reinforce his belief that he’s chosen the right partner—someone just as dangerous as he is.

Both Dabi and Tomura would ultimately come to embrace the unique dynamic their towering S/O brings. Dabi would lean into the humor and physical closeness, while Tomura would find comfort in their presence, despite his initial insecurities. Either way, they’d both love the strength, intimidation, and protection that comes with being in a relationship with someone so incredibly tall.

Masterlist

#bnha tomura #tomura shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #mha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi headcanons

37 notes · View notes

bleach-your-panties · 1 year ago

Text

victory ride - jean kirchstein x black!fem!reader

⚽️:soccer player!jean x black!fem reader

💎:inspired minimally by a real life encounter I had and because y'all know jean will have y'all in the hospital with that thang between his legs

⚽warnings: university au, smut, consensual recording, oral (m! receiving), switch!jean

💎: banner: made by me on pic collage, image from pinterest, animated on canva

⚽:tagging @chrollohearttags because they not finna play with long dick jean silver's

💎: divider: @/firefly-graphics

⚽: 2.1k words

▶️: rodeo(remix)- lah pat ft. flo milli

—

He love how I ride it

Hop on the dick, I made him get excited

This pussy off limits for lame niggas

Yeah, fuck me like you got some pain in you

—-

You sat idly scrolling through your cell phone while Jean was getting dressed in his uniform for the game that was to start in a couple of hours.

The first away game of the season and the Island Devils would be going up against some preppy university one state over.

While you had been studying this team extensively, Jean had opted not to do so as much, mainly because his nerves wouldn't let him.

"I'm ready, babe. It's time for me to board the bus." He said, looking at the silver, black-bezel Seiko watch that you'd bought him for his birthday.

Your family believed in that old ass superstition that you should never buy a man a watch as a gift, because it would mean the time in your relationship would run out.

Which is why it was just that - a superstition. You and Jean had been together since your freshman year of college and now graduation is right around the corner.

"Okay baby. Sasha, Connie, and I will be right behind y'all." You grabbed your bag and he leaned down to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

"Lead the way, baby." He smiled that handsome and devious smile of his, making you roll your eyes.

"Don't think I'm not on to you, Kirchstein!" You pointed at him and began walking out of his apartment door and into the hallway to get to the elevator.

"What did I do?" He asked innocently all the while his hazel eyes were trailing all over your body: from your pastel pink manicured toes, up your toned legs and calf muscles, stopping at your plump, juicy ass that wiggled in the beige romper that you had on. "Damn."

"Uh huh, I knew it." You laughed and pushed your hand into his lower back, making him stumble into a corner of the elevator.

"You're mean." He fake-pouted.

"Uh huh," You said while typing something on your phone. "Better get used to it, buttercup, if you wanna win against the Freedomfighters tonight."

"Freedomfighters, what a stupid ass name." He scoffed. "We'll kick their asses for sure, don't you worry, baby."

When the team bus pulled into the hotel where you all would be staying, Connie parked the car in a space not too far from it and you all got out.

Apparently, the opposing team was staying at this exact same hotel because another bus, similar to your team's but decorated in green and red with a large design of two red roses on either side of a stone wall with a cannon blasting right through it, was parked right next to the guys'.

A petulant-looking ginger was the first off of the bus, and Connie nudged you to get you to look. The tall, lean man was conversing with an equally-as-tall brunette with deep, emerald green eyes and his hair pulled back in a man-bun.

"He looks like an asshole."

You chuckled, "He does and probably is. Come on, let's get inside."

The trio (you, Sasha, and Connie) walked into the hotel lobby and met up with Jean again.

His teammates were used to him running off to hang with the three of you and didn't really mind since he was the captain anyway.

"Ready to head up to the room, dollface?" He asked while heaving his backpack and duffle bag over his shoulders. His face came down to press a kiss against your hair, which made you giggle.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"No getting your dick wet before the game, Jean-y boy. Can't have you making us lose."

"Who the fuck is us? How many goals have you scored for this team? Oh right, zero."

The two of them started bickering back and forth while you walked ahead with Sasha, who'd started chatting in your ear about a popular restaurant in the area.

Shiny metal doors parted for you all and Sasha hit the button for the doors to close until a tan, veiny hand stopped them. A group of very tall athletes sauntered in, laughing and chattering amongst themselves.

The space inside the elevator soon became very crowded, almost squishing the four of you against the elevator's back wall.

'Damn, excuse you then, big ass niggas' You thought while rolling your eyes.

"Verzeihen Sie uns. Platz für ein paar mehr?" (Pardon us. Room for a couple more?)

The ginger and brunette from before, obviously all of them are players on the team Jean is about to go up against us.

Said ginger rolled his eyes as they both stepped into the elevator and stood right next to you, finally letting the doors close.

"Eren, not everyone speaks German, cut it out."

The brunette chuckled deeply.

"My apologies."

His eyes then met yours, jaded hues traveling slowly over your frame, drinking you in.

"Meine Güte, was für eine schöne Frau." (My, what a beautiful woman.)"

You just raised an eyebrow, not understanding a lick of German, but Jean did.

He was between you and Eren in an instant, only having to take one long step forward with those strong, muscular legs.

While he was sizing Eren up, you were doing the same to Jean: your brown eyes roamed over all 6'4" inches of him.

How those black socks covered his legs up to just under his knees and how the silky white and blue shorts formed around the thick, muscled curvature of his ass just right.

Here you were drooling over him while he was about to murder Eren with his honeyed glare.

"Ja, das ist sie, und sie ist bereits vergeben." (Yes she is, and she's already spoken for)

Eren gave Jean a cocky smirk and held his hands up in a mock surrender.

"My apologies, again."

The elevator stopped on their floor and they got out, Eren still with his grin and Floch behind him with the look of a pure dumbass who would support his friend hitting on another man's girlfriend.

"Who were those pricks, anyway?" Jean grumbled looking down at the three of you as you all walked out into the hallway of the fifth floor.

"The brunette was Eren Yeager from Germany, #5. The ginger, Floch Forster from Ireland, #7." You informed the group.

"So you knew who he was this entire time?" Jean asked with an eyebrow raised and a teeny bit of jealousy threaded in throughout his usually calm and deep baritone.

"It's not that big of a deal, it's not like I'm his best friend. I just studied him a bit."

"Studied him?"

Jean's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and his forehead wrinkled significantly. His face portrayed a pretense of self-restraint, like he was attempting to prevent himself from making a scene in the middle of the hallway.

"Anddddd that's our cue to go. Come on, Sasha." Connie quickly grabbed the dark-auburn-haired woman's hand and pulled her down the hallway in the direction of their room.

Awkwardly, you stood with Jean in the middle of the hallway for a few seconds until he turned and stalked off towards your shared room.

His long, spindly fingers held the hotel keycard in a death grip; the veins in his forearms protruded and you could feel your panties getting wet.

"Um, are you mad?"

They lost.

The Freedomfighters actually beat the Island Devils, 3-0.

If you thought Jean was mad before, oh baby, now he was enraged.

Not at you, but more so himself.

That damned Eren Yeager turned out to be a pretty decent soccer player and it only irritated Jean even more when he saw you standing on the sidelines with your video camera.

It wasn't unusual for you to record his games so he and the team could watch the playback later to see what needed to be improved upon, but tonight it only irritated him everytime he looked up to see you with the damned contraption pointed right at him.

Capturing all of his failures of the night live and in 4K resolution.

What made it even worse was that he saw you pointing the camera towards Eren quite a bit as he ran up and down the field.

Jean was only irritated further when you both had returned to the room after the game and he came out of the shower to see you curled up on the bed, already watching the newly acquired video footage.

"Will you put that goddamned thing down already?"

You leaned up from your reclining position on the pillow to acknowledge him.

"Come again?"

"You heard me, or better yet-"

—-

I wanna fuck you right now

Reverse that cowgirl, I'm bucking right now

Climb on this standardbred, hope you can handle it

Beat that cat up when this dog put it down

Let's make a movie, girl, I'll do the shootin'

Camera in my left with your hair in my right

—-

"Yeah, just like that, baby….fuckkkk, hold that angle right there, don't you move."

Jean shivered, but kept his hazel eyes focused on the image of you in the viewfinder swallowing his dick.

His right hand held a tight grip on your hair while he thrust his hips rhythmically back and forth, making you gag on his fat length.

Long and thick, his dick touched the very back of your throat, the outline of it making the skin of your neck bulge in the most grotesque fashion.

"You look so good like this, baby, practically inhaling my dick. Wonder what Yeager would think if he saw you like this, yeah?"

As soon as he mentioned the German man, his eyes crinkled with anger again and his thrusts grew in both force and speed.

Knowing Jean, he'd probably started recording over the footage you'd taken of the game, that which he could honestly give a damn about right now.

"Fuck, I think I like this view much better." He smirked and then let out a deep groan as he emptied his balls in your searing, placable mouth.

"Shit…" He made sure to capture the image of you swallowing his nut and then wiping the excess from around your mouth with those pretty acrylic-tipped fingers.

"Come here; come ride me, baby."

—-

No time to make love, yeah

Keep screamin' you want it

Girl you lookin' lovely

When you ride this pony

We can do this to the morning

So please come and ride me

Love it when I'm deep inside you

You goin' crazy, yeah

—-

Jean's muffled moans seeped through your hand as you now held the camera pointed at him while bouncing up and down on his thick length.

Years of being together and still you felt the stretch of your pussy every time he was inside of you.

Your hand moved from his mouth and tangled in his ash-brown hair and pulled his head back and forth in time with your movements. He could be very loud in bed, which you loved because you revered a man that would let you know that you're making him feel good as well.

"Shit, Jean, baby, you look so fucking good on camera, just as good as you do when you're on the field." You mewled in heightened pleasure, wanting to throw your own head back but also not wanting to miss a single second of his gorgeous face gazing up at you.

His chest and forehead glistening with sweat, those honey-gray eyes shining with unshed tears as his body soon began to tremble with his impending orgasm. Yeah, you had that much of an effect on him.

Just looking at you could make him hard in an instant, but looking up at you while you took his dick like you owned it (and you do) had him more swollen and readier than ever to shoot off inside you like the cannon depicted on the side of the Freedomfighters' bus.

Yeah, after the ride you were giving him tonight he was bound to forget all about Eren, the team, the game - hell, he might even forget his own name for a couple of hours.

That is, if he didn't have you screaming it through the thin walls of this hotel room in those next hours.

Eren might have won the game, but he was the one taking a victory ride tonight.

—-

(If you're horny)

I wanna feel your body on top of mine

(Let's do it)

Right now, we ain't gone waste no time, baby (ride it)

Like a Harley in the wind

Got you bragging to your friends the way you ride (my pony)

Like a rodeo, ride like a rodeo, babe

*ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ!

#aot jean #aot jean x reader #jean x black reader #jean kirchstein #jean x reader smut #jean kirschtein x reader #aot jean smut #aot jean kirchstein smut #jean x y/n #i dont know anything about soccer #and dont come for me on the team names lol😭#jean kirchstein smut #jean x black female reader #💗💗🍡°aot masterlist #byp🌹#💗💗🍡°my fics

166 notes · View notes

canarias-stuff · 13 days ago

Text

❄️I Will Be Here When the Snow Falls Again❄️

(Ayase Momo X Takakura "Okarun" Ken)

WARNING: MANGA SPOILERS!

Summary:

Takakura Ken was socially awkward and a massive alien nerd, but he wasn’t an idiot—or at least, not a complete one. Ever since the whole mess with aliens and paranormal battles began, he felt like his IQ might’ve dropped a few points (the absurd situations probably fried a few neurons). Not that he cared much. He had more friends now than he ever had in his entire life.

But the point was, even if he was clueless about human interaction most of the time, Okarun knew when something was off with Ayase Momo—his first friend, best friend, and now girlfriend.

...

Or, a story where Momo is thankful to have this people as friends. For having Okarun.

Author's notes:

Hello!!!

So, I started watching Dandadan, and OF COURSE I couldn't wait for more episodes and went straight for the manga.

Really, my first reaction was "What the hell is this?", and now I am like "When the hell I gonna get more chapters!". hahahaha

Dandadan is really great!^^ So that's why I had to write something for the fandom!^^

The story takes place after the current manga arc. The characters are a little bit OOC I guess, but it's just that the story called for that...

I hope you enjoy it though.^^

Link AO3

The cold wind fluttered the curtains, the days were becoming colder and colder, and in a few days the snow would start to fall and turn the scenery all white.

Usually Momo wouldn't mind cold weather, hell! When Evil Eye destroyed her house, she even went in the middle of night to the local supermarket to get card boxes so they could make an improvised wall to shield them from the cold night air.

So no, the cold wasn’t the problem, but the time of year.

It was mid-December, people were in a festive vibe, but she was dreading it more than the last few years.

“Momo!” She heard her grandmother call from down stairs. “Are you awake?!”

“Tch! Of course I am, granma!” The brunette snapped, closing her window with more force than necessary, and grabbing her bag that was on her desk.

“You are going to be late to school.” Turbo Granny, who kept her cat form and returned a few weeks after she regained her powers, snickered at her. The entity wouldn’t admit it, but she was definitely trying to find a way to turn Momo back to her normal size back then, and when she couldn’t find a clue, she decided to share part of her spiritual power with Okarun again, so at least he could help Momo.

“Oh, shut up, old hag! I’m not in the mood!” Momo answered, grabbing a toast with strawberry jam from the dining table. “I’m off.”

Seiko watched her granddaughter leave in silence, a slight frown creasing her brow. Turbo Granny, too, narrowed her eyes.

“What’s gotten into her?” The spirit muttered.

The medium lit a cigarette, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

“Don’t mind her.” Seiko said quietly. “It’s just that time of year again.”

…

She was crying on her pillow when the door to her room was open and a soft voice called her name.

She didn’t answer, choosing to keep her face hiding in her pillow.

The side of the bed sank under her mother’s weight.

“Let’s go to Gramma’s place?”

And that finally got her attention, raising her head to look at the smiling face of her mother.

“Gramma’s place?”

“Yes, Gramma’s place.”

She cried excitedly and jumped at her mother’s embrace.

…

But the point was, even if he was clueless about human interaction most of the time, Okarun knew when something was off with Ayase Momo—his first friend, best friend, and now girlfriend.

The thought alone made him blush. He never imagined he'd have a friend, let alone a girlfriend, and yet here he was, watching her from a few meters behind as she walked ahead of him.

“Ayase-san!” Okarun called out.

Normally, the brunette would whip around and scold him for still calling her "Ayase-san" instead of her first name.

We’re dating! Drop the formalities! She'd say.

But after calling her by her last name for nearly a year, it wasn’t so easy to switch to “Momo” overnight. Besides, she still called him "Okarun" instead of "Ken," so they were even.

Except today, she didn’t even seem to hear him.

Okarun frowned. It has been like this for a few days now. Momo had been spacing out—while walking, eating, and even during conversations. Just yesterday, she almost started a fight with Shiratori after accidentally "ignoring" the pink haired girl. Chaos ensued.

No matter how many times Okarun asked what was wrong, Momo always brushed it off with a smile and said, " Everything's fine ." He didn’t buy it. But he knew how stubborn Momo could be. She wouldn’t open up until she was ready. For now, all he could do was stay by her side, watch, and wait.

“Ayase-san!” he called again, catching up and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Ayase-sa—”

Before he could finish, he was slammed against the wall by an invisible force. Oh, crap. He should’ve seen this coming.

...

“...-san?”

Momo felt a hand touch her shoulder, and without thinking, her powers reacted. She flung whoever it was against the nearest wall.

“H-Hey, Ayase-san?!”

“O-Okarun?!” Momo gasped, snapping out of her daze. She quickly released him from the hold, eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!”

He gasped for air but raised a hand in front of him, trying to calm her down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Ugh, sorry...I was distracted.” Momo muttered, her face flushing with embarrassment. What if she had seriously hurt him? “But it’s your fault for sneaking up on me, Okarun!”

“Hah?!” Okarun’s indignation was almost comical. “How is this my fault?! You’re the one walking around with your head in the clouds!”

“Who’s got their head in the clouds, you alien nerd?!” she shot back, the usual fire in her voice returning. Okarun felt secretly relieved. “It’s probably you, with your head full of UFO’s and alien conspiracies!”

“By now, you should know they’re not just conspiracies! And it's UAPs!”

They started walking again, bickering like usual. People passing by glanced at them curiously—an odd couple arguing about aliens and ghosts—but neither of them cared. They were in their own little world, and nothing could break that bubble.

...

“See you at lunch, Okarun.” Momo said with a wave, flashing him a smile before heading to her class.

“See you, Ayase-san.” He replied, watching her until she disappeared down the hallway.

By the time they reached school, their argument had mellowed into an actual conversation, and their hands had been intertwined the entire walk—only letting go moments before they parted ways.

It wasn’t a secret that they were dating. The entire school knew something was going on between them long before they realized it themselves. To outsiders, everything seemed normal. But to those who knew them well—especially those closest to Momo—something felt off.

“Was Momo okay today?”

Vamola’s worried gaze met Okarun’s as he sat down at his desk beside her.

“I stayed at Aira’s last night, so I couldn’t walk with her this morning.”

Okarun hesitated before answering.

“She was really distracted…again.” He didn’t mention the sudden use of her powers. “I’m worried, but Ayase-san won’t say what’s bothering her.”

“Maybe she’s finally realized how awesome I am and is trying to figure out how to break up with you!” Kinta Sakata chimed in, his usual smug grin in place.

“That was completely unnecessary, Sakata-san!” Okarun snapped, his face a mix of horror and disbelief.

“And rude.” Vamola added.

“But don’t worry, Vamola! My heart will always belong to you!” Sakata continued, striking a dramatic pose.

Okarun sighed. Ignore, ignore.

“Should we try talking to Momo again?” Vamola asked, genuine concern in her voice.

Okarun shook his head.

“No, it’s better to wait until she’s ready. Forcing her to talk won’t help.”

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t seek out someone who might know what was really going on. Someone who had been with Momo far longer than any of them.

…

One moment they were singing a song playing on the radio and laughing at her silly questions about the lyrics, and the next the world was turned upside down. Literally.

Her ears were ringing and her eyes couldn’t focus, the world was spinning and the lights were just blurs.

What happened ? She wondered, confused and scared.

“Mama?” She called, but no response.

Tears started to form in her brown eyes.

“P-papa?” She tried, but again, no response.

…

Pairs of eyes shifted to the brunette girl staring out the window, oblivious to Miko and Kei's attempts to get her attention.

“She’s been like that during classes.” Jiji pointed at Momo who didn’t move an inch from her desk even after the bell announced the lunch break. “Something is seriously wrong with Momo!”

“Should I knock her in the head?” Aira asked, arms crossed defiantly.

“You just want revenge for yesterday, Aira!” The red headed tall boy cried.

“I’m planning to talk with Seiko-san.” Okarun suddenly cut the bickering between Aira and Jiji. “She may know what is going on.”

“And do you think that she is going to say anything?” This time it was Rin’s turn to voice concern. “I mean…if it is about her own granddaughter's privacy, she may be tight lipped about it.”

They looked at each other, but after a moment of silence they came to the same conclusion.

“Nah…” The answer came in unisom.

“Yeah…no way…” The class rep sighed in the end.

“Momo’s working her shift today.” Vamola chimed in.

“Then after school I…”

“I’m coming too!” Aira cut Okarun off, her frustration clear. “I don’t know what is wrong with Momo, but I just can’t take that weird attitude anymore!”

“Shiratori-san…” Okarun smiled. Those two had a really hard start, but it made him happy to see that despite their differences, Momo and Aira became good friends.

“Me too!” Enjoji exclaimed, his usual dramatic movements and faces forgotten. “Gotta help Momo, right Okarun?”

“I still have a lot to repay for Ayase-san’s help too!” Rin said with conviction.

“Count me in too!”

“And he …” The pink haired girl pointed at Sakata, eyes glaring at Jiji. “...just want to hear some gossip.”

“No, no! I am really worried about Young Ayase-san!” Kinta tried to justify himself.

And as the scene started to become chaotic again, Okarun couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips. He was glad that these people were his and Momo’s friends.

…

“It’s a miracle...”

“Her only injury was caused by the seat belt...”

“But her parents…”

“I heard that the other driver is gonna make it…”

“A tragedy...and she is so young…”

…

“Momo-chan? You already cleaned that table three times…”

A hand was waving in front of her face, and it took Momo a second to realize that she had already taken the plates and tea cups to the kitchen, and that she has been cleaning the same table for a while.

“Ah, sorry senpai!” She said, embarrassed. “I got distracted for a moment.”

Her coworker placed a hand on Momo’s forehead, checking for signs of a fever.

“Hum, you don’t seem to have a fever.” However, the worried expression never left her face. “Are you having troubles at home? Or maybe with your boyfriend?”

“No, no!” The brunette exclaimed. “I’m just…under the weather I guess.”

“But that’s no good either.” Her senpai commented. “You should go home early today.”

“No, I’m really f-”

“Nope.” The older maid interrupted, her voice more decisive this time. “Go home, Momo-chan.”

“But…” Momo began to protest.

“No ‘buts’. Besides, we’re almost done for the day.” Her senpai smiled, pointing at the clock.

Momo’s brown eyes met her senpai’s gentle but insistent smile. In the end, she knew she couldn’t argue.

“Okay.” She sighed, giving in.

…

“So…” Seiko’s gaze swept over the teenagers sitting before her, each one awkwardly perched on their knees. “...what kind of trouble are you all in this time?”

“Seiko-san…” Okarun began hesitantly. “Why do you assume we’re in trouble?”

The older woman crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Because that’s the only reason you ever come to me.”

“Or for free food.” Turbo Granny snickered from beside the elder Ayase.

None of the teens could deny that. Vamola just let out a laugh.

“But that’s not why we’re here today!” Jiji bravely restarted the conversation.

“Yeah, right!” Aira chimed in, nudging Okarun with her elbow. “We have a question!”

“And for just one question, all of you had to come.” Seiko said flatly as she lit a cigarette, clearly sensing this was going to be a long talk.

The group turned to Okarun, waiting for him to speak.

“I…” He hesitated, then corrected himself. “No, we are worried about Ayase-san. Something’s up with her, and she won’t talk to us about it.”

“Is she…sick or something?” Rin asked cautiously.

Seiko sighed deeply.

“No.” The wave of relief that washed over the teenagers’ faces might have been amusing, if the subject hadn’t been so serious. “Momo is perfectly healthy.”

“Then what’s wrong with her?!” Aira blurted out. “She’s been acting off for days!”

Seiko closed her eyes briefly, and the teens held their breath, bracing for the worst.

“It’s almost Christmas.” She said quietly.

Okarun blinked, confused. Did he hear that right?

“So what?” Kinta broke the silence, voicing what they were all thinking.

Turbo Granny caught the lingering gloomy tone in Seiko’s voice, and if she learned something in all these years as a spirit, was how to identify grief.

“You see, Momo’s parents died on Christmas Eve.”

…

When she was just a seven years old child and her parents asked what she wanted for Christmas, Momo said that she wanted to visit her grandmother in Kamikoshi.

During normal days traffic was already bad enough, let alone holidays. So the initial answer was “no”. And because of that, Momo cried at her pillow almost every night until Christmas Eve, when her mother entered her room, and told her to bring warm clothes to Kamikoshi.

She couldn’t be happier inside a warm car with her parents, singing Christmas jingles and asking her mom and dad what some words mean, and why they were being sung like that.

The white snow was falling outside, it was a beautiful sight. Momo would have a white Christmas with her whole family.

Or so she thought.

Everything happened so fast, that she didn’t know what hit them.

She yelled as the car turned around a few times, finally coming to a stop when it hit the guardrail. Her brown eyes couldn’t focus and her ears were ringing, she could barely distinguish the static coming from the radio and cries for help outside the car.

“Mama?”

What happened?

“Papa?”

It hurts.

“Mama! Papa!”

It hurts so much!

“Say something, please!”

She looked outside, there were shadows going from one side to the other, but the last thing that she saw before passing out was the snow piling outside of a broken window.

When she opened her eyes again she was laying in a bed, white sheets, a gown that she didn’t remember owning, and white walls…her bedroom was pink…did they arrive at her grandma’s house?

But why did no one wake her up? She wanted to chat with grandma and give her the drawing that she made as a present…but she was so, so sleepy…

“Grandma…”

Someone took her hand. It was warm.

“I’m here, Momo. Don’t worry.”

“...Okay…Grandma…” She closed her eyes, but her grandmother’s hand never left her small one. She smiled before drifting to a dreamless sleep.

…

“It was snowing, and the driver of the other car was driving too fast, so he lost control of his car and crashed into five other cars, one of them belonged to Momo’s parents.” Seiko continued, her voice distant as she absently played with the ashes in the ashtray.

“The car overturned, and they died during the crash, it was a miracle that Momo got away with only the injury caused by the seat belt holding her in place…well, now that I know that she has psychic powers, I would say that her powers were activated during the situation to protect her, and got sealed when she was safe again.”

No one said a word, so she continued.

“After their deaths, she came to live with me in Kamikoshi. She’s usually bold and strong-willed, but around this time of year…” Seiko trailed off, her gaze softening. “It always brings her back to that day, I guess.”

Turno Granny stared at the floor, she knew how to comfort the souls of the young girls who lost their lives violently, but did she know how to do it for the living ones? For Momo?

“I don’t know what she is thinking. Maybe she thinks that her parents' death is her fault, but Momo never talked about it with me.” The medium said with a sigh, finally meeting the group’s eyes. “She cried twice in front of me, and it was when I told her about her parents and during their burial. After that, no more tears, but she does space out like this every year, it’s just that this year…it’s worse for some reason…”

She paused, taking in the teenagers' solemn faces.

“I hope you can stay by her side.”

And before the last word had fully left Seiko’s lips, Okarun was already moving. He bolted to the front door, leaving his shoes behind, knowing he wouldn’t need them. He flung the door open and sprinted into the cold night, heading straight for the place he knew Momo would be. The others followed a second later, their footsteps quickly swallowed by the darkness.

Seiko slowly stood and moved to the door, leaning against the frame.

“You don’t need to worry, Granny.” she said softly, sensing Turbo Granny’s presence beside her. “Those kids have got this. I’m sure of it.”

…

“It’s going to snow.” Momo murmured absentmindedly, coming to a halt as she gazed up at the dark sky.

This is so depressing…

It’s not that she dislikes the snow, but it still brought memories that she would rather forget about…not that it was possible anyway. Maybe she should ask Aira to knock her in the head to see what happens…

She sighed. That was one stupid idea, her mood was really affected by the nearing holiday. There was no way to forget about Christmas when every nook and cranny was decorated with green, red, twinkle lights and Christmas trees. Also, she wanted so badly to spend the holiday with her grandmother, Turbo Granny, with her friends.

With Okarun.

But…was she allowed? Was she allowed to celebrate?

Truth be told, she didn’t remember a lot about her childhood before coming to live with her grandmother, and if it wasn't for the photos, she wouldn’t even remember her parents' faces, but the memories of the accident were intact.

If she hadn’t asked to come to Kamikoshi that day, the accident wouldn’t have happened and her parents would be alive.

Momo knew that she had been acting weirdly these last days, that her boyfriend and friends were worried about her, and rationally speaking, she shouldn’t feel like that, if someone was wrong was the driver who caused the accident, but still, it was difficult to just accept that when the “what if’s” came to mind.

And after seeing and fighting ghosts for most part of the year, Momo couldn’t stop but wonder if her parents were still here somewhere, if her parents turned into some kind of entity - maybe something like Mai was before?

Were they…waiting for her?

Momo slapped her cheeks with both hands, startling a few passersby who gave her odd looks. She didn’t care. She couldn’t afford to think like this. It wasn’t like her at all. And it’s not like she wanted to die or anything… still…

“This sucks.” She muttered, gritting her teeth. “ What if’s fucking suck!”

All that Momo wanted was…

“Ayase-san!”

…to spend time together with the people that she cared for, but she was scared.

“Okarun? Wh-”

Before she could ask what was happening, Okarun wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

…

Okarun was grateful that Turbo Granny had decided to share her powers with him again. It meant he could fight alongside his friends, no longer just being a burden to them. But right now, as he held Ayase Momo in his arms, he felt more thankful than ever for the old granny’s power.

Using the curse's speed, he had reached her faster than he could in his human form. And honestly, who cared if he was barefoot in the middle of a busy street in winter? He certainly didn’t.

Leaving Momo alone for even another second—that’s what he couldn’t bear.

“Okarun?”

Her voice was soft, confused. Usually, he’d walk her home, their hands intertwined, sharing a conversation, laughing at something silly. But he never hugged her like this—out of nowhere, and definitely not in public.

“How did you know I left early?” she asked, though she made no move to pull away from him.

“I didn’t.” came his muffled reply, his face buried in the curve of her neck.

Momo hummed.

“And you’re barefoot.”

“...I was in a hurry.”

That made her laugh.

“Don’t laugh!” Okarun exclaimed, cheeks burning red as he finally lifted his head to look at her. Now that she mentioned it, he felt a bit self-conscious. But seeing her laugh—even if it was at his expense—warmed his heart.

“You don’t have to walk me home every time. I’m pretty tough, you know.”

“I know! But I…I was worried!” Okarun said, his words carrying more weight than just concern for her safety. Momo probably understood the double meaning.

Without thinking, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder and sighed, tired.

“I actually talked with Seiko-san.” He admitted, knowing he couldn’t lie to her.

“Of course you did.”

“...Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I guess I’ve been too stubborn.” Momo said quietly. “I should’ve just told you what was on my mind.”

“Are you okay?” Okarun asked softly, his hands resting on her back, pulling her closer.

In response, Momo gripped the front of his school uniform tightly.

“I am.”

“Ayase-san…”

“I am, really. It’s just that…” She paused, searching for the right words to explain her tangled emotions. “...I keep wondering if it is okay to be happy with everyone? Will something happen again?”

Okarun’s eyes widened. Oh…so that was the problem.

“My parents died because they wanted me to be happy during Christmas… sometimes I wonder if I robbed them of their happiness. If I cut it short.” Momo spoke slowly, as if weighing each word. Okarun stayed quiet, letting her finally share what had been weighing on her. “And I know that it’s ridiculous to think like this when the wrong one was the dude who caused the accident.”

If I had just asked for a doll or whatever as a present…

“But every year when Christmas is just around the corner, I can’t help but doubt if I’m not as guilty as the other driver.”

Am I allowed to be happy?

“Back then, all I wanted to do was spend the holidays with my family. All my family. My parents. Grandma. But look what happened.”

She wasn’t crying, and Okarun didn’t know if it was bad or not, right now, Momo was just telling him what had been in her mind so far. So he just kept holding the girl.

“I…” The girl gulped. “...I guess that every year I wish for the same thing, but I’m scared to wish to be with everyone and something like that…happens…again…”

…

It felt good to let it all out.

Momo felt like she could breathe again after so many years. And being held like that by the person that she loved was comforting.

“Ayase-san…” It was the first time that Okarun spoke after hearing what was on her mind. “...are you dumb?”

One. Two. Three.

It took her brain 3 seconds to process his words.

“Hahhhh?! What did you just say?!” She yelled, pushing away from her boyfriend and almost instantly regretting the loss of warmth. “Here I am pouring my heart out to you, and all you can say is that I’m dumb ?!”

Okarun adjusted his glasses, but the irritation was clear on his face. He wasn’t usually one to get angry, but something had clearly struck a nerve.

“It wasn’t your fault Ayase-san!” He said almost exasperated, something that Momo saw just once, back at when she tried a risky move against the alien who could carve out the space. “And how could you even guess that an accident would happen?!”

She couldn’t rebut it, because her rational side knew that it was impossible to predict such things.

“Ayase-san.” His voice saying her name was gentle again, it just wasn’t in his nature to stay angry for a long time, and Momo was glad for that. “If you wish to be with everyone, just say it.”

The girl bit her lips.

Was that okay? What if…

He reached for her hands, clasping her cold fingers in his warm grip.

“It’s okay.” He reassured her gently.

Oh…did she just voiced her thoughts?

“There’s no what if’s here.”

“Can I…?” Her voice wavered with hesitation, but Okarun smiled and nodded.

“Just say it. Be selfish for once, because I know—everyone knows—how much you care about us.”

She gasped softly at his words. And for the first time in years, tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“MOMO!!!”

They didn’t even have the time to turn around to see what was happening, because one second it was just her and Okarun, and the next they were tackled to the ground by Aira, Jiji and Vamola.

“Momo!” Vamola cried again, her arms around the brunette’s neck.

“You are a real skank, Momo!” Aira yelled beside the alien girl, eyes red and puffed, “Just say something!”

“YEAH! I mean, the ‘just say something’ part, not the ‘skank’ part.” It was Jiji’s turn to join the chaos, his bigger stature over Okarun who was face planted in the floor. “Just share your worries with us!”

“Aren’t we friends, Momo?!” The pink haired girl said with a frown. “We care about you!”

Momo’s eyes widened at Aira’s words.

“Wahhh! What are you guys doing?!” Rin cried upon arriving at the scene just to see five of her friends scattered on the cold sidewalk. “Did you guys seriously just jump on her?! We are in public!”

Their bubble popped, and they finally remembered that yes, they were in public, and that people were staring at them disapprovingly for causing ruckus in the middle of a busy commercial street.

“How dare you guys run giving one hundred percent, when I can muster just ten percent.” Kinta arrived last, gasping for air, still, Momo was a little bit touched that he cared enough to keep running. “Why are you guys like that?”

Momo started to laugh at the same time that some tears started to fall from her eyes. She could feel her boyfriend and friends staring at her with shocked expressions, but the situation was looking so ridiculous that Sakata of all people was the one pointing it out (not that she could fault him for that). However, who wouldn’t think weirdly at a bunch of teenegers laying on the floor when the weather was cold?

“A-Ayase-san?”

Okarun was right. She cared about all of them, enough to overthink whether she was allowed to be happy. But it was a two-way street. They cared for her, too—enough to sprint through the cold night to scold and reassure her.

Why had she been so worried in the first place?

She didn’t even know anymore.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Momo finally responded to her friends’ words.

“Thank you.” She said from beneath the weight of Vamola and Aira. “I love you guys.”

Thank you for caring.

They stared at her for a moment before breaking into smiles.

“Of course,” they all replied in unison.

Thank you for being my friends.

“Now, I would really appreciate it if you get off of me.” Momo said, her voice strained. “I mean, people are staring…”

"Oh, stop complaining!" Aira shot back, though she begrudgingly began to stand. "It's your fault anyway, skank!"

“Hah! I didn’t ask to be jumped on!” Momo yelled from the floor, still stuck there as Vamola slowly got up. "How is that my fault?!"

"Now, now, Aira, don’t be like that." Jiji chimed in, coming up beside the pink-haired girl. "You were so worried about Momo, you were practically crying on your way over here."

"N-no, I wasn’t!" Aira stammered, her cheeks flushing pink as she started walking away, but Jiji followed, teasing her relentlessly. "Nonsense!"

"She’s not cute at all..." Momo muttered under her breath.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of her, and when she looked up, she saw Rin standing there, offering to help her up.

"She has her own way of showing she cares, Ayase-san." The class rep said calmly, pulling Momo to her feet.

"I know." She assured softly. "And I'm sorry for making all of you worry."

"You don't need to apologize, but please, lean on us when you need to." The girl replied with a warm smile.

"Yes! Call on me for anything, Young Ayase-san!" Sakata struck a dramatic pose before sprinting off, as if making a grand exit.

Rin just chuckled and began following the others, leaving Momo with Okarun. After all, she had a feeling they still needed some time alone.

"Okarun..." Momo called softly, turning to look at the boy who seemed a bit shy after his antics in the street. "I...I want to have a Christmas party."

Okarun blinked in surprise at the sudden declaration, but his expression quickly softened. He smiled and reached out to take her hand. Momo immediately intertwined their fingers as they started walking again.

"Is that so?" He asked, his tone warm.

"And I want to invite everyone."

"Okay, I can help with the invitations."

"...You're coming, right?" Momo asked, her voice quieter now.

"Of course. I'll be the first one there."

Momo grinned, her heart swelling with a warmth she could hardly contain. There was only one way to express what she was feeling. Without warning, she stopped in her tracks and gently tugged Okarun closer.

“Ken.” She could practically see the moment his brain short-circuited.

"A-Ayase-s—"

His words died on his lips as she pressed hers to his. The kiss was brief, but it left Okarun's face bright red—though Momo’s cheeks were burning too.

Laughing at his dazed expression, Momo tugged him along again, stopping a few steps later to gaze up at the first snowflakes of the season. A White Christmas.

"M-Momo!" Okarun suddenly stammered.

Now it was her turn to be taken aback. Despite his face being beet red, Okarun stood tall beside her. This time, she felt the blush creeping all the way up her neck.

"W-what?! Are you really saying my n—"

But before she could finish, Okarun leaned in, catching her off guard with a kiss of his own. It seemed like he was learning how to surprise her now, but who was she to complain when her shy boyfriend decided to make the first move?

When their lips parted, Okarun didn’t pull away entirely. Instead, he rested his forehead against hers, gazing into her warm brown eyes.

"Now you're just copying my moves." Momo teased, but her smile didn’t falter.

"Well...sorry." Okarun replied, a bit shyly.

"I'm not really complaining, though."

He nodded, unsure of what to say next, but Momo didn't mind filling the silence.

"Thank you, Okarun." She whispered softly.

Okarun smiled and gently tightened his grip on her hand.

"Any time, Ayase-san."

Thank you for being here.

"Ah! Why are you calling me that again?!" She suddenly exclaimed, pulling back slightly but never letting go of his hand.

"It’s your name!" He retorted, adjusting his glasses with a slight frown.

"Wahhhh! Momo!" Vamola’s voice cut through the moment from afar. "Jiji transformed! The snow’s too much for him!"

"Takakura! Let’s fight!" Evil Eye shouted, pointing dramatically at Okarun.

"You’re such a pain in the neck!" Aira groaned, clearly irritated.

"Huh? What’s that?!" Rin asked, looking bewildered, the only one unaware of Jiji's Evil Eye transformation. "Is he some kind of vampire too?!"

"And you’re a pain, too!" Aira snapped at her.

"Where’s my Kintabot when I need it?!"

As the chaos unfolded, Momo and Okarun exchanged tired looks, both barely holding back exasperation.

"Let’s go?" Momo asked with a sigh.

"Yeah..." Okarun muttered, already anticipating the headache to come.

Still, despite the madness, Momo found herself at ease. No matter what kind of chaos her friends got into, she liked things just the way they were.

"Evil Eye, today’s Thursday, not Tuesday!" Momo called out as she and Okarun walked away, their hands still firmly clasped.

Thank you all for being here.

Ending notes:

So, first: The manga/anime implied that Momo lost her parents, that's why she went to live with Seiko, and I wanted to explore it a little bit. I really don't think that Momo would think that the accident was her fault, but I can see her overthinking about it anyway, but she does have great friends, and I know that they would be there for her.

Second: For this story I wanted Okarun to still have his powers, so I had to made Turbo Granny come back. But I really think that she went out in a adventure to try to help Momo to go back to her original form.^^''

Well, I had fun writing the oneshot, and I hope that you liked it too.^^

See you guys!

P.S: English is not my native language, so I'm sorry for possible grammar/spelling mistakes.

28 notes · View notes

jamsofdeath0 · 19 days ago

Text

this is a Granny Seiko appreciation post ✓

As a loving parent she tries to convince her granddaughter to not do something stupid even at the expensive her granddaughters new friend. as a reasonable adult she knows she can't really stop her. if Momo is going to go and potentially get herself killed Seiko can't actually do anything about it. Momo will just sneak out when shes not looking and she's not looking and it's not like she can put Momo under arrest or watch her 100% of the time until okarun croaks over. when she is realized she cannot stop or convince Momo to not do it she does her best to prepare Momo for it.

This is a great way to right good parents into an action series a about teens doing dangerous ass shit. it's also written in a very realistic characters.

#dandadan

20 notes · View notes

iruinn · 1 year ago

Text

baby, you're the sweetest thing ❀ nanami kento

chapter 3

cw : none that apply (please let me know if u think there's anything that needs to be tagged!)

wc : 2060

masterpost

If someone had asked you 2 years ago where you thought you would be right now, you wouldn’t have even blinked before answering. Married to your boyfriend. Living with him in his family home. Visiting your own maybe once a week. Maybe you might have even had a kid with him. You certainly wouldn’t be working in a small publishing office as an editor, living alone in a tiny apartment in a city hundreds of miles away from your family. Unwilling to visit the very house you grew up in. But you had learned quickly that life rarely goes the way you plan it. You’re certainly feeling it right now, watching your ex-boyfriend stand next to your own sister, the both of them watching you in trepidation.

The awkward silence is broken by your mother. “You’re here, then. Despite ignoring my calls. Good that you remembered you had a family.” Your head pivoted to meet hers, and you cross your arms. “I’m sure you got my messages. Can’t have the family wondering why the bride’s own sister didn’t show up to the wedding, right?”

The matriarch of the Morita family shoulders past you into the house. She’s as put together as you remember, her hair pulled into a bun perfectly, her clothes without a speck of dirt or wrinkle on them. Your sister follows her, stopping before you. She hasn’t said a word to you yet, and you simply raise an eyebrow at her. “Cat got your tongue, Seiko? You certainly weren’t this subdued the last time I saw you.” She reels back, but regains her composure quickly. “I’m happy you’re visiting, (name). I would have hated for you to miss my wedding.” “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” You glance at Naoya, who’s been watching you closely. “Hey, (name). Looks like Tokyo’s been good to you.” He pulls Seiko into him, and you bite your cheek. You certainly have no more lingering feelings for him, you think. But looking at them together still stings you quite a bit.

You hear your mother scoff. “I can’t imagine your job is doing much for you. When are you going to give up on it and move back home? You’d be so much more comfortable here.” “We’re really getting into this now? It hasn’t even been an hour since I arrived, and you’re lecturing me about my life choices?” You whirl on her, your voice raising, and she meets you in kind. “You’re just being dramatic, (name). You know I’ve always wanted nothing but the best for you. Surely you know it’s a disgrace for a Morita to be working a desk job.” All you can do is stare at her in disbelief. You flush red in anger and embarrassment, noticing your father and grandmother were here too, probably hearing your raised voices. Of all the places to have it out with your mother, in front of your family as well as your ex was definitely the worst place for it. “Mom..I just-“ “No, (name). We put up with your tantrums and the silent treatment for an entire year. You’re a bit past the age for being this childish now.” Your throat tightens, your nails cutting into your palm. You should have known it was a mistake to come back. It was the exact same a year ago.

“That’s quite enough, I think.” A comforting presence surrounds you, a thick arm enveloping your waist and pulling you in. You look up, watching him come stand by you. Nanami’s face is expressionless, but his eyes are cold as he looms protectively. His hair is slightly damp, like he had just stepped out of the shower, his body warm against yours.

He noticed your gaze and smiles, bending down and kissing your forehead. Your mouth falls open as he renders everyone speechless. “(name), who is this?” Of all the people to speak up, its Naoya, cutting through the tension. The feeling of being cornered is gone, replaced by growing confidence. It’s hard to panic when you have a 6 foot tall brick wall of a man backing you up. “Ah, right. My boyfriend, Nanami Kento. I did tell you I’d be bringing someone along..” “My apologies for the interruption.” His fingers press into your waist, and you can feel how solid he is against your own body, feel his deep voice rumbling. It’s like he was engineered to tick off every single switch in your brain that made you melt into a pile of mush. You watch him as he turns to your sister and Naoya, and holds out a hand. “Congratulations on the marriage. I’ve been waiting for (name) to introduce me to her family.” He doesn’t sound very congratulatory, and you think everyone in the room realizes it. He finally turns to your mother, tilting his head towards her. “Thank you for having me. Your home is lovely.” She nods at him. Her face is mildly pale, spots of colour high in her cheeks. “Yes, well. Make yourself comfortable.” She examines him, her eyes lingering on the secure grip he has on you. “Go freshen up, (name). I’m sure you’ve missed your grandmother’s cooking.” She sighs, her fingers rubbing her forehead. Your grandmother claps, her voice cheerful. “Yes, yes, that’s quite enough. The hallway is no place for this conversation, is it?” She beckons your mother, sister and her fiancée into the kitchen, waving you and Nanami away. Your dad glances at you apologetically, before following them. They leave behind silence, and you groan, letting Nanami steer you upstairs. You notice Yuuji peeking from above the staircase, and he looks very anxious. “Thanks, Yuuji.” You peek at Nanami in confusion, wondering why he was thanking Yuuji. The boy brightens, shooting a thumbs up at him. “No problem, Nanamin!” ‘

He leads you into your room, and closes the door behind him. You collapse on your bed face down, turning your head to meet Nanami’s eyes. He sits down next to you, his fingers stroking your hair. “Nanamin?” You snort, and he shrugs. “He’s a good kid. He asked me to go downstairs when he saw what was happening.” You relax at the comforting feeling of his hand through your hair. “I’m sorry about…everything you just saw. We’re kind of a mess.” He’s silent, his hand moving downwards from your hair to your cheek. The calluses tickle your cheek and you giggle. “I know I haven’t known you for long, but you didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” You love your job in Tokyo. You love your apartment too, the creaky windows and the tap u sometimes have to jiggle to get to leak water, your collection of plants you forget to water every now and then. You love your friends too. (You especially love Gojo and Shoko right now, for sending your way god’s gift to humanity. You know you would have had a much harder time without Nanami’s support.) “But it’s okay. Just a week to get through, and I’ll be back home, and hopefully I won’t have to drag you into more family blow ups.” You sit up on the bed, dislodging his hand from your face, missing its warmth immediately. “Thank you, though, seriously. You didn’t have to do any of this.” “I’m not the selfless person you think I am.” He gets up off the bed, walking to your desk and picking up a photo of you from when you were in university. “But I’m glad I’m being helpful.” He tilts his head at you. “Feel free to use me as your shield for anything this week. That’s what I’m here for.”

You glance at his back, his muscles rippling through his shirt. A shield is certainly an apt descriptor for him. It’s weird seeing a man in your childhood bedroom. You don’t think you’ve even brought back a boy here. He looks out of place amongst the furniture, too large for life. You hope there’s nothing embarrassing left out by mistake, and you glance about your room, but its pretty safe. No weird childhood posters or unfortunate teenage photos hanging around. Something occurs to you, and you glance at Nanami, wondering how to bring it up. “Uh, Nanami..” “Kento.” “Whuh?” He turns to you, his expression stern. “Call me Kento. You’re my girlfriend for the week, aren’t you?” Your cheeks may be permanently flushed by the end of this. “Right..Kento. Would you be okay with us sleeping in the same bed? I can get you a spare otherwise..” It’d be weird to explain why you needed a spare bed when he was your boyfriend, but you’re sure you can come up with some excuse. He raises an eyebrow. “I’m comfortable with it if you are. It might be a cosy fit, though.” You’re almost thankful for the series of events that led up to this. You just shoot him a thumbs up, trying to appear unbothered. “I’m honor bound to warn you that I am a serial cuddler. Shoko has had to pry me off her too way many times whenever I’ve crashed at her place.” He bends down, placing his arms on either side of you on the bed, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “I look forward to it, sweetheart.” He pulls away so quickly you almost wonder if you imagined it. Walking towards the entrance of your room, calling out behind him. “Go shower and join us for dinner below, (name).” The door shuts behind him, and you fall back onto your bed, grabbing a pillow and mushing your face into it, muffling your screams with the fabric.

Dinner is a considerably more cheerful affair than before. Seiko and Naoya had thankfully read the room and bowed out early. You knew there was an enormous can of worms to open up there, but you decided to let sleeping dogs lie for today. Nanami is surprisingly carrying on a long conversation with your mother and father, and you’re extremely curious about what they were talking about. Knowing your mother, she’s probably grilling him about his entire history. You spend the rest of dinner joking around with Yuuji and your grandmother, shooting a glance at Nanami every now and then, which he meets with a reassuring smile. You’re happy he seems to be enjoying dinner, at least.

Night quickly arrives, and with it, the bed situation. You spend way too long deciding on a pair of pajamas, and settle on a comfortable t-shirt and shorts of respectable length. Nanami seems to have already changed, and made himself comfy, and you feel a flutter in your stomach at the way he’s sprawled on his side of the bed, his hair falling over his eyes instead of being swept up as it usually is. He’s grabbed a book off your nightstand and is perusing it, the light from your nightlamp illuminating him softly. You spend a few beats admiring the man, before joining him.

“Hi…” You whisper, slipping into the covers next to him, keeping some space between you both. He places the book down, turning his full attention onto you. He smiles at you, his brown eyes warm. “You good?” He settles in under the covers too. “I am. You’re looking tired, (name).” “It’s been a long day…” He leans over you to turn off the light, and you catch a whiff of his aftershave. He smells very good, and you feel mildly like a pervert. Your mind keeps wandering to how tall and wide he is in comparison to you. “Sorry if I steal the covers from you. My limbs take a mind of their own when I sleep.” You hear him laugh in the darkness. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go to sleep.” Easier said and done. You close your eyes, thinking you’ll probably be awake for most of the night making sure you don’t accidentally cuddle Kento in your sleep. You're not making contact with him, but even with your eyes closed, you feel the warmth emanating off him. You open your eyes a millimeter, trying to catch a glimpse of him. You think he's staring at you back, but it's hard to say in the dark. Eventually the day catches up with you quickly, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep and dead to the world.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #wow bed sharing trope ruin ur so innovative...#the self in self indulgent is REAL!#sorry if ive made a goof this shit is unbeta read #im using this fic as practise to get a lot of words in daily as like. pre nanowrimo warmup

84 notes · View notes

hexpea · 5 months ago

Text

Ch. 25 - Cancellation

The sun's early rays filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden hue across the bedroom. You woke, eyes blinking hard to the sudden sunlight just as you had those weeks ago. But this time, Satoru's sleeping frame laid still next to you. You sat up and watched as his back slowly rose and fell with each breath as he slept on his stomach, hands beneath his pillow. You quickly noticed how fragile he looked in slumber, his white eyelashes twitching with whatever dream he was having.

You noticed how light you suddenly felt. The weights that had been on you since the whole debacle started had begun to lift. You took a deep breath and smiled to yourself as you looked out the nearby window to the busy city streets below. It was all well and good...until you remembered you had to cancel everything for the wedding that was suppose to happen that day.

"Oh shit," you said audibly, causing Satoru to suddenly stir. Meanwhile, you snatched your cell phone from the end table next to you. You quickly dialed Seiko and brought the phone to your ear.

"Y/N?" Satoru's groggy voice mumbled as he sat up slowly, still on his stomach. His hair darted in nearly every direction; it reminded you of Megumi's usual look.

"Hi, good morning," you said when Seiko answered, your voice a bit subdued considering the conversation that transpired between you the night before.

Satoru watched you, rubbing his eyes as he adjusted to the light himself. He briefly grabbed his sunglasses from his nightstand as a quick form of relief. He patiently sat up, resting on his hands in bed, as you carried on your conversation.

"Good morning," Seiko replied somberly, voice crackling from sleep, "everything okay?"

"I...just wanted to see if you made any phone calls yet," you asked, feeling some trembling in your voice from the nerves. The prolonged silence after your statement told you your answer. "Like to the venue, the caterers, the...guests?"

"Oh, no," Seiko answered casually, voice still low, "no, I haven't done any of that."

You sighed disappointingly. You were hoping Seiko had made a jump start on the cancellations since you wanted to avoid the whole thing all together. But the consequences of your actions clearly had other plans.

"Right," you said through your sigh, "I guess I'll start that. We probably won't get any deposits back on anything, but what we do get I'll make sure to divvy it up appropriately."

"So professional this early in the morning," Satoru chuckled lowly, his voice quiet. You gave a small glare in his direction, a signal to keep his mouth shut.

"Okay, I'll start making the calls then," you replied with a sense of responsibility in your voice, bringing your full attention back to the call at hand.

"Y/N," Satoru's voice slipped through the phone's speaker with a hint of mischief, "I hope you didn't forget about our breakfast plans. I've been craving those pancakes all night."

His playful remark was clearly laced with innuendo, knowing he could be heard. And it didn't escape Seiko's notice. The jealousy simmered beneath the surface as they heard the playful banter between you and Satoru. If it wasn't for Satoru, the two of you would have been long married and Seiko could have potentially made better headway on finding the rest of the Sukuna fingers.

"Right...I'll leave you to it, then," they replied. Their voice was curt and distant, their voice noticeably colder than before. Though things didn't end explosively, it wasn't without pain.

Sensing the tension in Seiko's response, you looked back at Satoru again, whose grin widened as he played along. It was as if he enjoyed hearing Seiko's reaction in the change of their voice, despite the seriousness of the situation at hand. Before you could respond back to Seiko, Satoru playfully reached over you and placed a flat palm against your chest, pushing you back on the mattress. He crawled atop you so that he was straddling you while the phone was still pressed against your ear.

"Satoru!" You scolded through an intensely furrowed brow as he chuckled through his movements. You held back your own smile with an angry look, you felt incredibly rude to Seiko with your inability to control your ex-husband who was now essentially your present boyfriend.

Before you could return to the phone call with Seiko, you were easily met with a broken dial tone. They'd hung up. You continued to glare up at your lover as he dove down toward your neck and peppered you in kisses, his hair tickling your cheeks as he nibbled at your soft flesh that was still sensitive from the night before.

"Can you control yourself in any situation?" You asked sarcastically, pushing him off of you. You didn't have the strength, but Satoru quickly got the message and rolled over with your push, his body plopping back down in its original spot next to you.

"Do you even need to ask that question?" He laughed as you got out of bed and began to find your clothes that you'd arrived in the night before.

The rest of your morning was spent making dozens upon dozens of phone calls to guests and the other wedding arrangements. Your last phone call was to your parents. It was the call you were dreading. It was your second wedding and you were about to cancel it just to go back to the man you divorced in the first place. Needless to say, you spent quite some time pacing in the living room before finally making the call.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you dialed your parents' number. This call was one you had been dreading, knowing that it would be full of tension. After several rings, your mother's voice came through the phone.

"Hi, honey!" Her voice was sweet but somehow wary. She wasn't expecting any phone calls and thought you'd meet them at the ceremony venue. "Are you getting ready for the big day?"

"Hi, Mom," you answered, voice tight with a mixture of frustration and sadness. It was unmistakable.

There was a brief silence on the other end before your father chimed in. "Y/N? Is that you? Everything okay?" You could tell by his voice that your mother was making that face she always made when you'd done something bad. You could also tell that you were on speaker phone at that point.

Taking a deep breath, you began to explain the situation. "So...the wedding is...cancelled."

Another silence followed your words, a heavy lone that seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud. Then, your mother's voice quivered with anger.

"Again, Y/N? This is the second time you've done this. What about all of the time and money we've invested in this?"

You winced at the frustration in your voice, feeling the weight of your actions again, but this time without regret. "I know, Mom, and I'm so sorry. I didn't want it to come to this, but...there are things you just don't understand." You referenced the pregnancy above all else. They still didn't know and you weren't about to tell them, not yet.

Your father's voice was stern as he responded, "you should've thought about that before agreeing to marry Seiko in the first place."

The anger you felt seemed to escalate as you tried to explain the circumstances and the reason behind your decision. You talked about Sukuna, about the danger that had become so intertwined with your life.

Your mother's voice softened, a hint of understanding finally breaking through her anger. "Y/N, we just worry about you. We don't want you to get hurt."

Tears welled in your eyes as you replied, "I know, Mom. I'm just trying to protect everyone I care about for now. Satoru and I...we still have things to figure out."

There was a long pause on the other end once more as your mother found her thoughts. Your dad was the first to respond. "We might not fully understand your situation, but we want you to be safe. We'll support you, even if we don't agree with your choices."

The tension in the call began to dissipate as you felt a wave of relief wash over you. In the same moment, Satoru walked toward you from the kitchen with a plate of pancakes. Satoru's plate was, of course, drenched in sticky syrup and covered in strawberry slices and whipped cream. Yours, he knew exactly how you liked them and they were obviously made to perfection. He lightly pecked your shoulder from behind as he held the plate in front of you.

"Thank you, Dad," you answered, leaning backward so that you fell onto Satoru. You smiled as you looked up at him, taking the plate from his hands and allowing him to leave a lingering kiss on your lips. "I promise I'll make it up to you both someday."

Your mother's voice softened as well though still filled with concern. "Just promise us you'll be careful, Y/N. That's all we ask."

You nodded to yourself as Satoru stepped away. "I promise, Mom. I love you both."

The conversation ended on a more positive note, the understanding and concern of your parents providing a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos of your life. As you hung up the phone, you knew that you had a long road ahead but you at least had your parents' support.

After ending the call with your parents, you took a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions now that everything was realized. Satoru watched you with concern from the sofa as he ate his pancakes, you still holding your plate.

"You okay?" He asked from his seat, removing his feet from the coffee table in preparation to go to you if you needed support. His eyes searched your face for any signs of distress.

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "Yeah, I will be. Thanks, Satoru."

He relaxed again, placing his feet back up and stabbing another bite of pancake. You decided to join him on the sofa to eat your breakfast. As the two of you sat, watching television, you realized what your next steps were. You had to return to Hokkaido and face the fact that you needed to pack up your things from your shared apartment with Seiko -- the place you once thought you'd be returning to for good after all of this.

In no time, you found yourselves on a shinkansen back to Hokkaido. Autumn was fast approaching and the brightly colored leaves welcomed you home from your view on the train. The chilly air stung your cheeks, but it felt like a refreshing change from Tokyo. It was almost bittersweet that you had to leave this place.

You and Satoru spent a few days sightseeing. It had been a while since he'd been to Hokkaido and he wanted to hear about everything you experienced while living there. So, you decided to give him the grand tour! After those few days, you and Satoru headed straight for your apartment. Your nerves had taken over once more, palms beginning to feel sweaty as you walked closer and closer to the building. You hadn't seen or spoken to Seiko since that last phone call.

The two of you stood in front of your apartment door with obvious hesitance. You stared at the peephole, taking deep breaths before beginning to knock. You had a key, but figuring Seiko was inside you didn't want to startle them.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N? Moving back with me..." Satoru asked you in a soft voice, sensing your anxiety.

You stood silently in thought for a moment before turning your head to look at him. "I'm sure," you gave a single, determined nod. "I don't want to run from this. And I know what future I want." Your voice shook a bit, but you stood firm in your resolve.

He smiled at you before staring straight ahead again, blindfold covering his eyes. "That's all I needed to hear."

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojou x you #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru gojou x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru #satoru gojou #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

20 notes · View notes

pheiral · 5 months ago

Text

Gathered some genazo parco exhibition spoiler crumbs, i read it with MTL..so beware errors caused by lack of understanding of the original language

And rambling about Gegero's voice

Note about character trait that's been said multiple times but I need to write it here:

Mizuki is handsome and Gegero is sexy

GEGERO'S UNDERWEAR IS 半股引

I'm not really sure how it look but i saw people posting this video as reference

(buttock warning ⚠️ because it's showing how to use the thing )

And his height is 185 cm (doesn't include geta)

Mizuki's height is said to be Gegero's eye level..so around 10cm shorter. Which mean he can be 165-170 ish cm

(fyi Sada Keiji, the actor Mizuki's design is based on, height is 173)

Gegero's height once mentioned in light novel of 2018 Kitaro's series to be around 180 cm. So glad we get to know his exact height

Everyone already know Gegero is thin, but they even draw his ribs sticking out. Total opposite of the muscly Mizuki

btw Mizuki's watch is Seiko Marvel

There are talk about storyboard of the story such as what this character feel in this scene such as Mizuki's fast eating habit, Osada's last cut, the meaning of Gegero's line when he said I've waited for you to Mizuki, Gegero entrust his wife to Mizuki scene,..etc

I'm not typing it all because my mind is too filled with Gegero's underwear.

Oh and Kozo is child of concubine

Visitor can choose audio guide for the exhibition. With Mizuki, visitors will be treated as guest and he'll be in work mode. With Gegero, visitors will be treated as someone who lost their way and Mizuki will act differently because visitor isn't his guest now.

The voicelines promotion for parco exhibition at Ikebukuro is pretty good. Mizuki in salesman mode and Gegero suddenly appear. They're pretty casual with each other according to fan's reviews.

Gegero voice is lighter and higher than the tone he use in movie. Jp fans said that's how he sound like in all new voicelines. That make sense if it's his normal voice and the movie one is his much subdued tone because he's been separated with his wife for years.

This Blu-ray DVD promotion ver. Kitaro's father can be used as reference to hear how high and cheery he can be. If the link isn't available anymore it's because they're privated.

youtube

Anyway, I think this cheery Gegero isn't strange because in the end he's that cute Medama Oyaji.

I love the contrast between Mizuki deep/heavy voice and Gegero's high/light voice. Mizuki can be pretty brusque while Gegero is much gentler. Gegero's laugh is fufufu (eigamura voiceline) so I think Mizuki's will be louder than him because they're always opposite. Not to mention he's showa man, so the image is he will laugh with mouth wide open

Edit 25/6: Kitaro's mom height including the heels, is around Gegero's eyes. So she's a bit shorter than Mizuki. Her right eye is 潰れ (crushed?)

...QAQ

Edit 27/6: At the last room of exhibition is where sculpt (?) of baby Kitaro birth, visitor can see his hand coming out of the grave. Gegero said he love this place the most, most reviewers pointed out this is his kindest and gentlest voice. And I just discovered this room also has the 6 bonus illustrations framed, it's no wonder Gegero love this place the most...not only it's when Kitaro is born but there's images where.. they're all alive and well, as if they survive the village intact and his wife is still alive. I can't....this is so tear jerking.

Gegero is called 子ゲゲ be the staff

#genazo

18 notes · View notes

h3rmess · 7 months ago

Text

WHERE OUR BLUE IS

Written by @h3rmess ✰

Masterlist

Interlude ♧ - Inumaki vs. Okumoto

༄ ༄ ༄

following S1-Chapter 3

༄ ༄ ༄

-> erm can we ignore the fact that I harvested this from the depths of my camera roll pls...

-> I WAS OUT OF IDEAS FORGIVE ME THIS IS OLD BUT IT WILL SERVE!

-> context : yuuta wasn't there on seiko's first day, which is why he asks who she is. he heard about her through the other second years

-> chapter 6 is almost done. I just need to write a a little bit more!

-> I'm watching like 5 animes at the same time rn send help

-> I have exams coming up next month, so my posts may become less frequent for a while

-> SEE YOU SOON WITH CHAPTER 6!!!!

༄ ༄ ༄

TAGS~

@nyxlai @inlovewithlondonn @sad-darksoul @eternalalmondd @httpstoyosi @vivi-loves-penguins @samutoru @lysaray @maya-maya-56

24 notes · View notes

adrivns · 5 days ago

Text

[ jacob elordi, cis man, he/him, muse 7 ] welcome ADRIAN MILES SHEPHARD — or should i say the HOTSHOT? … a quick google search tells me you’re a TWENTY-SIX year old PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER who’s worth 80M. you've called penthouse 35C home for ONE YEAR. it seems you’ve managed to earn a reputation for being RECKLESS, yet you're also quite CONFIDENT. i'm sure as a SCORPIO you're used to people commenting on your VINTAGE SEIKO WATCH / A DEVIL-MAY-CARE ATTITUDE THAT MAKES ANYTHING HE DOES ON THE COURT LOOK EASY ; LOGGING ONTO TWITTER TO IMMEDIATELY START BEEF ; A GRIN YOU COULD PUNCH ; PRAYING HANDS AND A CHEESY QUOTE ABOUT FAMILY TATTED ACROSS HIS CHEST.

navigation. pinterest. connections.

─── personality

positive traits: confident, assertive, resilient, protective.

negative traits: reckless, cocky, blunt, impatient.

likes: pineapple on pizza, call of duty, tony hawk, r/fuckaroundandfindout. VERY passionate about the dark knight trilogy.

dislikes: books with over 300 pages, speed limits, musicals, people who bring their screaming kids out in public, losing (in anything).

there's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, and adrian walks that line every single day. whether it’s trash talking other basketball players or riling up the opposing crowd just for the fun of it, his attitude tends to turn most people off. still, with an $80 million net worth, he’s clearly got the talent to back it up.

─── background

born to college sweethearts william and helen, adrian's upbringing is very much the white-picket-fence-golden-retriever fantasy. he's raised to believe he can do anything he sets his mind to, and he does - selling the most wrapping paper in school history and making the all-states basketball team as a freshman.

sports have always been a staple in the shephard household; william, a former college athlete, first sparks adrian's love for basketball and practices with him the entire summer leading up to tryouts.

adrian quickly makes a name for himself on the court, taking after his dad's talent and competitive streak. he follows in his footsteps all the way to duke, playing one season before joining the detroit pistons as the second pick in the nba draft.

in the following two years, adrian leads the pistons to their fourth championship, wins a rookie of the year award and secures a five-year contract with the new york knicks. although he's always had an aura of being untouchable, his reputation suffers a significant blow in may 2024 when he's suspended for the rest of the season after physically assaulting a rival player.

with the new nba season about to begin, his pr team has suggested he do some image rehab by joining excesstv and showing viewers his more humble and relatable side. adrian has never acted before save for the time he played a dancing spoon in his 3rd grade production of beauty and the beast, but figures the exposure can’t hurt.

─── headcanons

bought his parents a vacation home for their 25th wedding anniversary

played the drums as a kid (if you dig deep enough there's a youtube video from his middle school talent show)

signed a brand deal with nike and lost it a month later after posting a series of controversial tweets

his game day routine includes waking up at exactly 7.15 am, eating a whole tin of anchovies and hyping himself up to slipknot in front of his full-length mirror

always carries around lip balm and applies it like this

every time he has a cold he turns into a frail victorian child on their deathbed

#etv.intro

8 notes · View notes

inevitablysomber-dark · 2 days ago

Text

Under The Radar 5

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

The corporate building Steve’s father owned was nothing short of grand. I walked in, nerves tingling at the thought of my new position. The administrator in charge of my training, Claire, greeted me in the lobby and immediately started the tour.

“This is where the magic happens,” she said as we passed by a massive boardroom. I nodded, only half-listening, too awestruck by how polished and professional everything was. I could feel the imposter syndrome creeping in.

We moved through finance, legal, marketing it was all so surreal. Just a few months ago, I was working in a factory. Now I was here.

Honestly, I had no real intention of taking Steve up on his offer. But after just two weeks at home with my parents, I couldn’t take it anymore, I called in and had them set up my training. Between my mom’s constant nagging to reconnect with my “friends” and my dad’s disapproving remarks about my “lack of networking skills,” staying any longer would’ve been unbearable.

It got so bad that, just to shut them up, I told them I had a job offer and was just waiting for my training to start. That, of course, led to a new set of issues. I suddenly needed a “proper wardrobe” because, apparently, I “didn’t know how to dress professionally.” And a new watch, because, as my dad put it, “You can’t just whip out your phone for everything.” He handed me his old Seiko 5 Automatic, the first watch my grandfather ever gifted him, saying I wasn’t “mature enough” for a Rolex yet.

On the surface, all of this looked thoughtful, like they were just slightly overbearing but caring parents. But every compliment had a sting, every “gift” came with a reminder of everything I’d supposedly done wrong in life. Keeping my time with them brief wasn’t just for my sanity; it was to keep me from burning these bridges altogether. I knew I was all they had left, and honestly, I wasn’t sure how they’d handle it if I simply disappeared. The guilt would probably eat me alive. Despite everything, they were all I knew, and in a sick, twisted way, I loved them.

So, here I was, finally at my first day, forcing a polite smile as Claire led me around the office. I barely heard her voice until we reached my new desk.

“And lastly,” Claire said, smiling, “this will be your desk.”

I blinked at the sight of it, positioned right across from Steve’s office, practically tethered to him by proximity.

“Thanks,” I murmured, sliding into the chair as Claire handed me a folder.

“Your training materials are in here. You’ll go over company protocols, and Steve has requested to check in with you personally every day.”

My stomach did a somersault at the thought of Steve hovering over me daily. I needed this job, and I’d made up my mind to put some distance between us now that we were in a professional setting.

“Thanks, Claire. I’ll start going over these,” I said, trying to focus.

Claire nodded and left, leaving me to get comfortable with my bearings, but the unsettling feeling in my gut wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t let Steve think that just because we had history outside of work, he could treat me differently here. I had to set boundaries.

The morning passed without too much fuss until lunchtime, when Steve made his first appearance. He strolled over to my desk, leaning against the doorframe of his office like he owned the place--well, I guess technically, he did.

“Hey, how’s the first day treating you?” His voice carried that easy charm I was used to.

“Good. Just settling in,” I replied, keeping my eyes on my computer, trying to keep things professional.

“Great,” he said, casually moving over my desk to get closer to me. “Let’s grab lunch. I know this amazing sushi spot.”

I finally looked up at him smiling, teeth all straight and pearly, forcing a polite smile. “I’m actually swamped, Steve. Maybe another time?”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Too busy for lunch with your boss?”

I suppressed a sigh with a nervous laugh. “Steve, we’re at work now. I think it’s important we keep things... professional.”

“Professional, huh?” He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Come on, Kiwi, we’re friends. We can balance both, right?”

My stomach tightened. I took a deep breath, determined to stand my ground. “I really need to focus. Can we stick to work for now?”

His smirk faded for a second, something like annoyance flashing in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. He chuckled, stepping back. “Alright, alright. Focus on work. I’ll check in later.”

As he walked away, I knew that this was far from over. Steve wasn’t the type to back down easily.

The rest of the afternoon blurred by, and I’d almost forgotten about the tension from earlier--until Steve showed up again, leaning in closer this time.

“So, about tonight,” he began, his tone playful but with an edge. “You’re coming out for drinks, right?”

I sighed inwardly, feeling my patience wearing thin. “Steve, we need to set some boundaries.”

He blinked, his expression shifting. “Boundaries?”

“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “This is a work environment, and I need space. I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me get this job, but I need to focus without any... distractions.”

For a moment, his jaw tightened, but then he smiled, that same charming grin. “Of course. Just trying to help you relax. You seem tense.”

His words didn’t sit right with me. I managed a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “Thanks for understanding.”

He tapped his fingers on my desk lightly, his eyes still on me. “Don’t mention it. But just so you know... I’m not giving up that easily.”

My heart skipped a beat as he straightened up and walked back to his office. I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke or something more. Either way, it was clear this wasn’t going to be as simple as I’d hoped. I’d drawn my boundaries, but it seemed like Steve was determined to push every single one.

The next few days at work felt like a tug-of-war. Steve wasn’t exactly crossing lines outright, but he wasn’t backing down either. I’d catch him glancing over at me from his office, more often than seemed necessary. Little things, like dropping by my desk for no reason or insisting I join him for coffee breaks, it started to feel like a test. A test of how far he could push before I’ gave in.

Today was no different. I was finishing up some notes when Steve appeared, leaning over my desk to hand me a file, his fingers brushing mine. “You’re doing a great job,” he said with that grin, the one that always seemed too friendly.

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just trying to keep up.”

His hand lingered on the edge of my desk; his body too close for comfort. “I was thinking--tonight, let’s get dinner. Just the two of us. We can talk about your progress here, you know, check in.”

I hesitated, my pulse quickening. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Steve. I’ve got a lot to do, and I’d prefer to keep work separate from personal stuff.”

Steve’s smile didn’t waver, “Kiwi, we’re friends. Don’t act like I’m asking you to do something out of line.”

I shifted in my seat, trying to maintain my composure. “I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s best to keep things professional.”

He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “Professional… there goes that word again. You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling trapped. “Steve, I’m just trying to set boundaries.”

There it was again--another brief flash of something darker in his expression before he quickly masked it with a laugh. “Alright, alright,” he said, stepping back. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable. We’ll keep it ‘professional’.”

The next day, I decided to take my lunch break alone. I’d barely settled into my usual corner of the café when my phone buzzed with a message from Steve.

Steve: I’m heading over to grab lunch. Join me?

I frowned. I quickly typed a polite excuse.

Kiwi: Sorry, I’m already halfway through my food. Maybe another time.

His response came almost instantly.

Steve: Where are you? I’ll come by.

I didn’t even have a chance to respond before the door to the café opened, and there he was, with his eyes on me. Steve strolled over, sliding into the seat across from me without waiting for an invitation.

“Funny running into you here,” he said, a glint in his eye.

I smiled tightly. “Yeah, crazy.”

For a few minutes, we made small talk--work, the weather, anything that didn’t feel personal. But then Steve leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine.

“Kiwi, you’ve been acting distant. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious.

I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not being distant, Steve. I’m just... trying to focus on the job.”

His lips curved into a smile, “and I get that. But you don’t have to push me away. I thought we were getting close.”

I felt a pit form in my stomach. “Steve, I’m here for the job. That’s what matters.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, just stared at me as if weighing something on his mind. Then he sat back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, Kiwi. I’ll give you your space.”

I should’ve known Steve wasn’t going to just back off. He wasn’t the type to take no for an answer, not for long anyway. At first, he acted like everything was fine, polite, distant enough, professional. But then, like a switch flipped, the demands started.

“Kiwi, I need you at the office before I get in tomorrow. Make sure my coffee is piping hot, 180 degrees and ready. Black, no sugar.”

“Kiwi, I’ve got a meeting with some investors at 8. Make sure I’ve got a casual outfit ready to change into afterward.”

“Kiwi, I’m flying to Tokyo next week. You’re coming along. Pack for the weekend.”

At first, I stumbled, hard. His demands came out of nowhere, like a storm I didn’t see coming. I was barely keeping up. One morning I got his coffee order wrong, too much cream, he only wanted a splash, and he didn’t even bother to hide his displeasure. He made a big deal out of it in front of the entire office.

He muttered, loud enough for my coworkers to hear. “Is it really that hard, Kiwi?”

My face burned with shame as a few people glanced over, some pitying, others snickering. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back. I needed this job, but more than that, I needed to prove to parents that I could handle it, even if Steve was doing his best to make it impossible.

He was calling me at all times of the day, and night. I’d barely fallen asleep when my phone buzzed at 12 a.m.

Steve: Need you at my place. Meeting with Australia in an hour. Bring the folder on the merger.

I blinked at the message, my heart sinking. Who did that? Who made their PA get up in the middle of the night to show up at their home?

But I went. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on some clothes, and drove over to his place, exhausted. Steve greeted me like nothing was wrong, all smiles and casual charm, as if he hadn’t just interrupted my sleep for something he could’ve handled himself.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, barely looking at me as he scrolled through his phone. “I’ve got a few ideas I want to go over for the Australia meeting. Sit.”

I sat, bleary-eyed, taking notes as he rambled about corporate strategies I didn’t fully understand in my sleep-deprived state. This was becoming my new normal. Coffee runs, clothes prep, late-night calls. Steve was pushing me to the edge, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep this up.

The breaking point came a few weeks later. I had been working my ass off trying to keep up with Steve’s increasingly erratic demands, and I thought I was finally getting into the groove of things. But Steve had other plans.

I was in the middle of typing up a report when he walked into the office, flanked by a few higher-ups. I stood up to greet them, clipboard in hand, ready to offer updates on his schedule. But Steve barely glanced at me.

“Kiwi,” he said, his voice clipped, “why isn’t my presentation ready? We’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes, and you’re standing around like you’ve got all the time in the world.”

I froze, confused. “I—I thought you said you wanted the slides in by tomorrow. I—”

“Tomorrow?” He cut me off, his voice loud enough to turn heads. “No, Kiwi, I said today. Or is listening too hard for you now?”

I felt all eyes me. My coworkers, the higher-ups—all of them watching as Steve casually ripped me apart in front of them. My stomach churned with a mix of anger and embarrassment, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“I’ll get it ready now,” I said quietly, my throat tight.

Steve rolled his eyes, then turned back to the others with a casual shrug. “This is what happens when you have to deal with amateurs.”

As they walked away, I stood there, humiliated, anger simmering just beneath my skin. That was it. No more stumbling around, no more letting Steve bulldoze over me. If he wanted me to be his PA, fine—I’d be the best damn PA he’d ever seen. But I wasn’t going to let him keep making me feel small.

That night, I stayed up, reviewing his entire schedule, his notes, his preferences, everything. I started memorizing his quirks, his habits, the things that made him tick. I was going to make sure he had no reason to humiliate me again. I’d be one step ahead of him, always ready, always prepared.

Steve didn’t know it yet, but he’d handed me the playbook to beat him at his own game.

I put my new plan into action. Every morning, Steve’s coffee was hot and ready. His presentations? Polished days in advance. I even had his extra clothes laid out for those “casual” meetings before he could ask. He tried to trip me up with last-minute changes, but I stayed ahead of him, anticipating every move before he made it. It felt like a game, one where I refused to let him win.

And Steve noticed. The satisfaction he once got from controlling me started to fade as I grew more competent, was fading. He began testing me harder, pushing boundaries with more erratic requests, continuing to wake me at odd hours for meetings but I was ready, I had his schedule in hand waiting for that call. It was exhausting, but I met every challenge head-on, and the more I succeeded, the more frustrated he seemed.

Then came the announcement: a weekend business trip to meet investors. And of course, I was required to join him. It felt different, though. Private. Isolated. Just the two of us at a luxury resort with the investors. Managing Steve in the office was one thing, but a weekend away from the safety of our professional environment felt... dangerous. Yet, it felt like I couldn’t refuse.

On the flight, he sat too close. His arm brushed mine, lingering longer than necessary. At the resort, during meetings, he played up our dynamic, compliments woven into professional banter, a hand on my lower back for just a little too long. It was subtle, but I felt the undercurrent. Something was shifting.

He was up to something.

After a successful day with the investors, Steve insisted we celebrate. He chose an upscale restaurant, and I knew I couldn’t refuse. At dinner, his flirtation became more apparent. He leaned in closer, his eyes lingering on me in a way that made my skin crawl.

“You know, Kiwi,” he began, swirling his drink slowly, his voice low and deliberate, “You are truly amazing, I couldn’t imagine doing this without you. You’ve proven yourself to be indispensable.” I forced a smile, but I couldn’t shake the unease crawling up my spine. His words carried weight, a suggestion I couldn’t quite place, but it left a sour taste in my mouth. I tried steering the conversation back to work, but he wasn’t having it. Another round of drinks came, and with them, more talk about us.

As we left the restaurant, his arm slid around my waist, his touch too familiar, guiding me back to the hotel. My mind raced,dizzy, knowing he was crossing a line, but unsure of how to push back .

In the elevator, the tension was palpable. He stood too close, the small space amplifying every detail, his cologne, the warmth of his body. I kept my gaze forward, heart pounding as the doors closed, sealing us off from the outside world. Steve didn’t say much, but his silence was louder than words.

When we reached his suite, he opened the door but didn’t step aside. Instead, he gently tugged at my arm, pulling me inside. The air felt heavy, thick with something unspoken.

“Come in, relax a bit,” he murmured, holding out a drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “You deserve to enjoy this. We’ve earned it.”

I frantically shook my head, my voice firmer than before. “I’m good, Steve. I think I’ll just head back to my room.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, blocking my path. The playful charm he usually carried was gone, replaced with something sharper, more calculating. “Kiwi, don’t act like we haven’t been getting closer. I know you feel it too.” His hand brushed against my arm, the contact sending a chill down my spine.

I took a step back, trying to steady my breathing. “No, Steve. This isn’t right. We’re just colleagues.”

But the look in his eyes shifted, the darkness that usually flickered beneath came to the surface. “Colleagues?” he repeated, his voice cold. “After everything, you think we’re just colleagues?”

The walls felt like they were closing in, but I found my voice. “Yes, Steve. I’m grateful for everything, but that doesn’t mean you can cross boundaries. I need space, and I need respect.”

For a moment, his jaw clenched, and the charm he wore like armor slipped. There was a tense silence before he let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Respect, huh? Don’t forget who got you this job, Kiwi.”

My legs felt shaky, but I stood firm. “That doesn’t give you the right to try to control me.”

He stared at me, his eyes narrowing in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “We’ll see about that.”

After the intense conflict in his hotel room, Steve surprises me by backing off. For the first time in a while, I feel like I can actually breathe. He stops micromanaging me, the late-night requests become fewer, and he's not hovering over me at every turn. At first, I'm suspicious. I know Steve too well by now to believe this peace is permanent. He's playing the long game. But for now, I try to enjoy the distance, even though I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The job is good, I can't deny that. The pay is miles better than what I was making before, and I’m starting to feel more competent. I understand the numbers I’m handling, especially when I'm writing notes at meetings and presentations. My degree is finally coming into play, and that gives me a sense of purpose that I’d been missing. Leaving isn’t something I’m ready for yet, but I keep telling myself that if Steve crosses the line again, I’ll have a way out.

Life at my parents' house isn't getting any easier. The tension there has been at an all-time high, and as much as I hate to admit it, this job is my best shot at getting out. I start searching for my own place, somewhere closer to work, somewhere I can finally breathe without the constant bickering in my ear.

The thought of having my own space again feels exhilarating and with the money I’m making now, I can afford a decent one. It’s just a matter of finding the right one. Part of me wonders if Steve’s backing off has anything to do with this newfound freedom I’m reaching for. It’s as if he’s letting me think I have control. And as much as I want to believe I do, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still pulling the strings

Theres a project and Steve wants me to be a part of it. He brings it up casually in a meeting one afternoon, asking me to collaborate with him on one of the bigger financial initiatives the company is pushing. At first, I hesitate, but the challenge of working on something so significant piques my interest. Plus, if I’m being honest, it’s the kind of work I’d been hoping to sink my teeth into when I first started. So, I agree.

Steve, of course, doesn’t miss the opportunity to get closer. Lunch meetings become the norm again, and every now and then, he suggests we work at his place. I keep the boundary clear, at least for now, reminding him that this is strictly professional. But even when the conversation stays on track, I can tell he’s savoring every second I’m around.

What surprises me, though, is how impressive Steve actually is when it comes to his work. He knows his stuff, better than I expected. He’s sharp with numbers, his strategies are solid, and his understanding of the company’s inner workings is almost intimidating. I find myself learning from him, despite my reluctance to get too close. There’s a part of me that can’t help but admire his skills. It’s in these moments that I see why his father is so eager to pass the company on to him.

But even when I’m impressed, I never forget who I’m dealing with. Steve isn’t just the charming, knowledgeable businessman I see in meetings, he’s the same man who tried to control me, who made it clear that in his world, everything comes with strings attached. I might be playing along for now, but I’m not blind to the game he’s playing.

Several months had passed, and despite everything, I was doing well. Better than I could’ve imagined, actually. After a rocky start at Rogers and Co., things had stabilized. I’d found my groove, and it showed in every part of my life. I’d finally moved out of my parents' house, into my own apartment. It was small but perfect, a space that was entirely mine. With the salary I was earning, I’d even managed to save up enough for six months’ rent in advance, furnish the place to my liking, and afford the little luxuries I’d once thought out of reach.

My parents had even started to take me more seriously, no longer seeing me as the directionless daughter stuck under their roof. I lived comfortably, to the point where I’d started to consider investing, though I hadn’t made any moves yet. The thought of building a future for myself was exhilarating.

Steve, surprisingly, had been cordial, he seemed to respect the space I’d demanded. He’d backed off, let me work without constant interference, and in turn, I was thriving.

I was confident. Six months into the job, my probationary period was about to expire, and I hadn’t given it a second thought. I was sure I’d be hired on full-time. Everything had been going smoothly, no major mistakes, no confrontations. Steve hadn’t given me any significant feedback as of late, critical or otherwise, and I assumed that was a good sign. I was doing my job, and I was doing it well. So, when I got the call from HR to come into their office, I didn’t think twice about it.

I sat down across from the HR rep, offering a polite smile. They looked at me with an odd expression, serious, almost regretful.

“Kiwi,” the HR rep started, their voice firm but sympathetic, “we’ve reviewed your probationary period, and I’m afraid we have to let you go.”

I blinked; not sure I’d heard right. “Wait... what? Let me go? Why?”

They cleared their throat, glancing down at the papers in front of them. “Steve has made the decision. He feels that you’re not a good fit for the role.”

It was like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean not a good fit? I’ve been doing everything I’m supposed to. Steve hasn’t said anything, he hasn’t criticized my work or mentioned any issues.” My voice was rising, panic setting in. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the decision that’s been made. You’ll need to clear your desk by the end of the day.”

Stunned, I walked back to my desk, my body moving on autopilot. As I started to pack up my things, I could feel everyone watching. Eyes darting in my direction, whispering behind their hands. And of course, Steve’s office was empty. No note, no explanation. He didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face. He destroys my life and then disappears, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

With each item I placed in the box, the knot in my chest grew tighter. I thought of all the time I’d invested, all the effort I’d put in to prove myself, to create something stable, and in an instant, it was all taken away. The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill over, but I forced them down, refusing to let anyone here see me break.

When my desk was empty, I walked out of the building for what felt like the last time, my heart heavy with disbelief.

That night, I sat in my apartment, alone, my box of things on the floor beside me. I’d been crying for hours, my face streaked with tears, eyes burning from the effort. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I was going to do now.

All the security I’d built up, the savings, the apartment, the comfort, it felt like it was slipping through my fingers. How long before I couldn’t pay rent? How long before I was back at square one, back with my parents, a failure all over again?

I curled up on the couch, my sobs muffled against the cushions. Steve had taken everything from me.

I spent the first month trying to find another PA position, convinced that if I could just get back on my feet, everything would be okay. The problem was, every PA job I came across paid significantly less than what I’d been making at Roger's and Co. It didn’t make sense. I hadn’t realized how much Steve had been paying me until I started comparing salaries. It was almost triple what others were offering for the same role.

I was getting special treatment.

The rejections came swiftly. And the ones that did reply were offering barely enough to cover my rent, let alone any other bills. I could feel my savings dwindling by the day, the anxiety building with every email that started with "We regret to inform you."

By the second month, I realized I needed to switch gears. There was no way I could survive on PA salaries alone, so I started looking into career paths that aligned with my degree. With a master's in finance, I figured I had a good shot at finding something that could keep me afloat until I could get a raise.

At first, it looked promising. I had multiple callbacks, even landed three potential offers. It felt like a light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. I went through interviews, prepped like I was back in school, and felt like maybe, just maybe, I was going to make it out of this.

But then, it was just like when I first graduated: rejection after rejection plowed me down, and I found myself desperate enough to accept anything that came my way. And this time, it felt worse. I had real experience now, yet nothing seemed to matter. First, it was a phone call, apologetic but firm: “We’ve decided to go in a different direction.” Then another company, saying they’d filled the position. And just like that, the third potential evaporated too.

It didn’t make sense. Why did everything fall apart so suddenly? My heart sank as I realized this wasn’t normal. Something felt off. It wasn’t just bad luck.

On a hunch, I decided to apply for another job using a different resume. I changed my address to my parents’ house, applied under a slightly different name, and removed Rogers and Co. from my credentials. Suddenly, the floodgates reopened again. I got through to a second interview, and everything seemed fine, until I had to reveal my real name. I told them it was an error, thinking nothing of it.

The shift in tone was immediate. They told me I’d get a call back, but I never did. I showed up for orientation day, only to be told that the position had been filled.

That’s when it hit me. I was blacklisted. Steve had done this. He’d blacklisted me from my entire industry. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what qualifications I had or how well I performed in interviews, it didn’t matter.

I was ruined. $200,000+ in student debt with no clear end in sight. All because of one man.

5 notes · View notes