simon always says you fit well in his arms. fit well when he's inside you, begging you to just stay still, so he can finally cum. you fit well in his arms when he holds you when watching a scary movie, you're terrified when watching saw. fit well in his arms when you hug him tight, soothing him after a bad dream.
fit perfectly well in his arms when he holds your lifeless body, in the hospital bed, a wailing baby in a crib - his wailing baby.
your wailing baby. if you had anything left to own. when your cooling body lays in his arms, like a pile of limbs, arms and legs never to move on their own again. fit well in his arms as he's dragged away, never to fit in his arms again.
please read this even if you're not indian. especially if you're not indian.
you've seen the jokes. india is "dirty", indians are "everywhere", why don't they fix their own country. ok. let me tell you why, and what's happening right now while nobody's watching.
first, the history you skipped: britain ruled india for two centuries and drained it. economist utsa patnaik's research estimates around $45 trillion in today's money was taken. the india that got independence in 1947 was one of the poorest countries on earth. every "why is india like this" question starts there. you don't get to profit off a robbery and then mock the crime scene.
now, what's happening RIGHT NOW:
in may the question paper for NEET leaked. that's the national medical entrance exam. over 2.2 million students took it. cancelled. years of studying, families' savings poured into coaching, gone overnight because someone sold the paper. students died by suicide after. these were kids who wanted to be doctors.
and out of that came a protest movement. a gen z group called the cockroach janta party, started by a 30 year old named abhijeet dipke, got 22 million instagram followers within DAYS. they've been doing a sit-in at jantar mantar in delhi demanding education minister dharmendra pradhan resign.
and then there's sonam wangchuk. if you've watched 3 idiots, he's the real engineer the character was based on. built solar schools in ladakh. invented ice stupas so himalayan villages have water. spent his whole life on education. he's 59 and he's been on hunger strike for 17+ days now. reporters went to see him this week and he was too weak to talk. and the troll armies are calling him "anti national" and "foreign funded". a man starving himself for other people's children. that's the thing here, anyone who asks a question is suddenly a traitor.
it's not one incident, it's everywhere you look:
• infrastructure worth thousands of crores failing within months of the ribbon cutting. tunnels collapsing in regions where heavy rain is a guarantee, not a surprise.
• youth unemployment near 10% for ages 15 to 29, 13.6% in cities. in a country of 1.42 billion where more than half the population is young.
• only about the top 3% of indians earn above 10 lakh a year. meanwhile billionaire wealth keeps ballooning and the headlines celebrate it.
• manipur burned for over two years. an ethnic conflict, tens of thousands displaced, and the prime minister barely said the word manipur while it happened.
• journalists raided. critics' houses bulldozed. activists sitting in jail for years without trial under laws like UAPA. our press freedom ranking has cratered.
• even the petrol is a fight now, ethanol blending pushed through while drivers complain about their engines and get no straight answers.
and through all of it, the PM, who came to power on religious polarisation (americans, sound familiar?), travels abroad for photo ops and has not held one single open press conference in over a decade. not one.
what i'm asking:
if you're not indian: share this. our media mostly won't cover any of it because the big outlets are owned by the same billionaires the government serves. the only reason wangchuk's fast is getting any coverage is people refusing to look away.
if you ARE indian: speak up even if you're comfortable. especially if you're comfortable. join the protests. add to this, correct me, translate it. staying quiet is a choice when nothing in this post touches your life.
india is not "dirty". india was robbed, and it's being robbed again, from the inside this time. but it's also the country where a 59 year old will starve for strangers' kids and 22 million young people will rally behind a party literally named after cockroaches, because cockroaches survive everything.
delhi police lathi-charged the protesters with batons and tear gas. five metro stations were shut down to stop people from even reaching the site. mobile internet was cut in parts of central delhi. the stage at jantar mantar was dismantled. sonam wangchuk's wife, gitanjali angmo, was pushed around in the crowd. people on the ground are reporting that doctors who had set up first aid on site were beaten. eyewitnesses say children, minors, were caught in the violence. people are also reporting that stone-filled trucks appeared near the protest site in the middle of the night, before cameras arrived — the kind of "evidence" that gets used to reframe a peaceful protest as a riot. the government is calling it provocation. the protesters are calling it a setup.
the congress president mallikarjun kharge said in parliament: "students have been beaten. the government is attempting to stifle dissent." samajwadi party mp dimple yadav said "today will be remembered as a black day for democracy." even some of the police who carried out the orders apparently looked ashamed. that's how wrong this was.
and through all of it the prime minister has not held a single open press conference in over a decade in power. not one.
what you can do right now:
if you are not going to the protests — and most of us can't — please send an email. right now. it takes two minutes.
demand the resignation of education minister dharmendra pradhan. you don't have to write anything long. "i am writing to demand the resignation of dharmendra pradhan over the NEET paper leak and the violence against peaceful protesters on july 20, 2026" is enough.
if you want to support the people on the ground: volunteers at the protest site need supplies. you can send things through blinkit to the jantar mantar / kerala house area, or get in contact with someone there and coordinate directly. the local gurudwara has been housing and feeding many of the protesters — donations there go directly to people who need it. you can also donate to
sachkhandfoundation4073@icici
who are feeding the students and helping them directly at the protest.
students were beaten to death at a peaceful protest in delhi.
let that sit for a second.
they weren't throwing anything. they weren't rioting. they were sitting in the scorching july heat asking for one thing, accountability for a leaked exam that destroyed lakhs of futures. and the government sent in police with batons.
minors were beaten. children. women. civilians.
sonam wangchuk is on day 24 of a hunger strike. our government forcefully detained him in front of everyone.
we are not okay. india is not okay.
racism against indians is at an all time high globally. we get mocked for how we live. britain spent 200 years extracting wealth from india. our own government spent the last decade doing the same thing, we are mocked for the poverty that was built for us by the people who now look down on us for it.
our media won't cover any of this. it was bought. the ruling party owns the narrative and anyone who challenges it gets raided, jailed, or beaten.
they declared themselves gods (literally they did, their faces edited over gods). they are using violence against children to prove it.
i am asking international media to look at india right now.
and if you're anywhere in the world and you're reading this — say something. you don't have to be indian. you just have to give a damn.
childhood best friend jason todd who makes promises like when i grow up, i'll marry you and then we'll be happy forever- but then he gets adopted by bruce and becomes robin and between all that, loses touch with you and then dies.
he comes back, becomes red hood and its not until he sees you again when he remembers his promises.
you run a small bookstore thats also a safe haven for kids to just loiter around and read-
he goes home and looks up everything about you, everything he's missed out on and what you're upto now- he finds out that you got married and then divorced, something about an abusive husband and sealed police and hospital records- a restraining order as well so he does what he what he thinks is right. he kills your ex for you and then starts to leave little trinkets for you at your shop- giving the kids gifts to bring to you from red hood-
this goes on for weeks and weeks until you stand outside your little shop, hands on your hips, looking up, trying to find him-
he lands right infront of you and takes off his helmet, you still dont recognize him. he's older now, scarred, his eyes aren't even blue anymore-
its not until he says im all grown up and i still wanna marry you that you realize who he is- and all he can do is hope and pray that you still want him the way he wished you did when you were kids.
I love the cod characters a lot, and the canon is fun and all, but as a realist, I've dug the rabbit hole myself and need to point out how canon vs realistic Simon 'Ghost' Riley would be.
Canon Ghost:
- Hyper secretive due to his military special black ops background as well as traumatic past.
- Almost never opens up. The snippets we got of him doing so were still heavily contained and even if he wants to, he wouldn't do it.
- Is in his mid to late 30s.
- Has an extremely deep voice.
- Is deployed almost nonstop, where he is in combat more often than not.
- Likely gets deployed minimum 8 months a year, while the rest he spends in UK training, briefing, or simply working on paperwork.
- His identity has to stay such a secret that he likely uses only burner phones, and wears the mask even at home because of his traumatic past.
Realistic Ghost:
- Still guarded but not a stonewall, simply extremely picky and selective. Likely to open up to someone if he has known them for a few months and they have proven loyalty.
Reasoning: He is a Liutenant in black ops missions. This role requires secrecy AND intelligence. As an INTJ (latest cod personality), he is naturally going to be more closed off, but unlike canon Ghost who is a total loner, realistic Ghost would not have treated his traumatic past as a reason to shun people out. It's more about choosing who the right people are rather than denying himself the possibility of kinship.
- Has less deployment and less combat during them. As a Liutenant, his primary job is commanding short groups. And keeping him in black ops, that would make his deployments much much shorter. UK special forces deploy special operators on shorter periods, think days/weeks to as much as 2 to 3 months at a time, maybe 4 to 6 if we stretch it. But unlike normal soldiers who can be deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time, Ghost would be doing shorter but more intense deployments.
- He also would be spending a huge chunk of time back in UK simply working on *power point presentations*, believe it or not. As an officer, his job is less combat and more commanding people and talking about missions. He also would have a ton of paperwork and trainings. A portion of the year he'd spend either training others or being trained himself, either in UK or abroad.
- Cod storyline don't care about the ages or realism of their characters much. So I'll argue he is not in his mid to late 30s, but around 30-34 years old instead.
- Ghost is likely to be a Captain at this age, not a Liutenant. In the UK, you need training to become an officer. Usually they start around the age of 20, and enter as 2nd Liutenants. At the age of 22 to 24 they become Liutenants from experience. Ghost entered as a soldier, so he likely entered the training for LT later in life, but given his hands-on combat experience, he wouldn't stay an LT for too long. At his skill, he'd likely be a Captain.
- He would still use the name Simon and he wouldn't wear the mask in private like in canon cod. Sure, as a black ops, he'd need some secrecy, but he wouldn't realistically need to hide that much in private. He'd even be allowed a normal civilian phone as long as he doesn't speak about missions. Realistically, he'd be guarded but not want to hide his identity in person. Wearing a mask nonstop and calling yourself Ghost in public attracts more attention than just not wearing a mask and going by Simon. And again, I'd argue Ghost is a very emotionally intelligent man to be in the position he's at in the military, which he also has displayed in the game. So we are not gonna strip him away of that. His trauma doesn't stop a man like Ghost from living his civilian life, it only makes him more grounded.
Anyway, sorry if I offended anyone. If I got anything wrong and anyone wants to enter their own opinions, feel free to do so!
(implied female reader but can be gender neutral if you squint)
a/n : can you tell I've seen the two The Devil Wears Prada movies this week? Currently blasting Vogue by Madonna and Runway by Lady Gaga and Doechii in my headphones while writing this
wc : 4k
The evening had been nothing more than stressful and exhausting. Your feet were numb because of the heels you were wearing, your back felt sore and honestly your head felt bigger than a watermelon. Working as the assistant of Matsuo Sanako, head of the world-renowned fashion magazine Catwalk, wasn’t a piece of cake.
As soon as you got hired, you said goodbye to your private life and free time. The only thing filling your thoughts was Mrs Sanako’s schedule, and how to keep any insignificant issues from getting in her way. And for instance, her taxi was currently two minutes late, and somehow that was your fault. The loud music of the party still blasting behind you was becoming overwhelming. You kept calling the taxi driver, as if it could make him arrive sooner.
Eventually, the guy got here and Mrs. Sanako left. You let your shoulders slump, sighing heavily : she didn’t fire you. Tension finally left your body. Now, it was your job to stay at the party and represent her. You straightened your back, rolling your shoulders, repeating to yourself that you loved your job. Really, you couldn’t complain : your weeks were filled with high couture shows, meeting celebrities and making sure your boss was still at the top of the world while wearing luxury clothes. Messing up wasn’t even the idea of a possibility, you were responsible for the credibility of a whole brand and its biggest effigy. It would be a disaster if Matsuo Sanako arrived at an event and you couldn’t tell her the name of the people who were coming to talk to her. Matsuo Sanako knew everyone, and so did you.
Sure, it was intense. But you loved it. And your respect for Mrs. Sanako ran deeper than any of the roots of an ancient tree. No one else could’ve built the empire she created. Sure, she was uncompromising and left no room for weaknesses. But that was greatness, obsession, passion in its purest form. Mrs Sanako was a strong woman in a man’s world. That was enough for you to justify whatever. She needed to be this way, otherwise she’d get stepped on and ridiculised. So working for her was the biggest honour of your life, since you always were passionate about fashion and precisely with Catwalk’s sense of artistry. You finally were a part of the elite. As an assistant, of course, but that meant something about your skills. For now, you were on a good path to be the first assistant Matsuo Sanako kept for the longest time. That was enough to make you proud.
You were pulled out of your thoughts by a pink haired man watching you. You knew him (obviously, that was your job). Sae Itoshi, member of the Generation World XI, football prodigy and former (or current, you hadn’t digged that much into his career) member of the best football team in the world, Re Al. His gaze was unmistakably piercing. You walked towards him since he was near the entrance of the building and you had to go back inside anyway. You smiled and nodded at him as a greeting.
You quickly checked him out : he was wearing Gheling’s last collection. A great choice of clothes, very fitting for an athlete, you thought to yourself. His bangs were down, hands in pockets. His face wore his usual (and famous) nonchalant expression. His cerulean eyes were not leaving you, so you decided to engage before it became awkward.
“Gheling’s last collection. It fits you delightfully, Mr Itoshi. Nice to meet you, I’m Matsuo Sanako’s assistant.” You told him while keeping a polite smile. You were used to it by now, introducing yourself to celebrities was almost as easy as saying hello.
He stayed silent for a couple of seconds before shifting slightly and answering.
“My manager told me to wear that.” His eyes were still on your face, as if he was analysing a particularly complex football game. His voice was smooth, like silk. If you weren’t in a professional setting, it would’ve sent shivers down your spine.
“Your manager definitely has great taste.” You replied.
“And you’re wearing…?” Sae asked, but it felt forced. As if he wasn’t sure how to talk of something as strange as fashion. He knew nothing about mode, he was a football player for crying out loud. The only brand he was interested in was the one providing his sports shoes.
“Oh” You weren’t expecting him to do small talk, still you indulged. “It’s Silvacci’s new collection. They’re trying something a bit bolder and chic.”
“It’s… good. Compliments your eyes.” He stated clumsily. You couldn’t help but smirk a little, looking down at your heels. Getting complimented by one of the best mid fielders in the world was definitely not in your checklist tonight. “I saw you running around all night. Made this boring evening more amusing.”
“Well you should know something about running around.” You chuckled, then immediately stopped. “I’m sorry, that was out of place.” You apologised.
He shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He shifted, his shoulder leaning against the wall of the building. “No, no. You’re right. Running around is kind of my job.” He paused. “Though I’m pretty sure I can’t do it in heels and pretty dresses like you do.”
You smiled faintly. “Thank you. Coming from someone like you, it means a lot.”
“You know, your boss should be grateful to have someone as dedicated as you. I wish my manager was that committed to his job.” He admitted.
“I’m sure he’s doing the best he can.” You gently said.
“Yeah.” He huffed. “And that’s why I’m running from him right now. He wants me to meet some perfume sponsor.”
You tilted your head. “You mean Oshima Ryutaro? Mrs Sanako doesn’t like him. He’s full of himself.”
Sae glanced at the entrance door, then back at you. “One more reason to avoid the guy.” He mumbled.
“Well, it was a pleasure to talk with you, Mr Itoshi.” You greeted him, glancing at your watch. “I have to go back inside unfortunately. I have to discuss with some people on behalf of Mrs Sanako. Good luck hiding from your manager.” You smiled.
And before the pink haired man could say something else, you were already back inside. He stared at where you had been standing a few moments ago, before running a hand in his hair and walking towards the road to call a taxi. He really sucked with social interactions. But something stuck to his chest, longing to see you again. Though, he knew it would be unlikely. You worked in fashion while he was busy running on the field. Two worlds far from colliding again anytime soon. Like an idiot he hadn’t asked for your number. And Sae would die before asking his manager to get your contact, the man would tell his teammates and they’d tease him relentlessly. It would be embarrassing and Sae doesn’t do embarrassing. So he’ll just have to forget you and lock this moment in the closet at the back of his mind named ‘Awkward and failed interactions.’
The following weeks happened in a rush. You had no time to reflect on your encounter with Thee Sae Itoshi. After all, it wasn’t like you never met any celebrities. It had become a daily occurrence in your life.
Your mind was almost exploding with everything you had to remember for today. Mrs Sanako was sending you running all over the place. You were pretty sure you looked like a mess by now. You got out of the taxi with the new suits Mrs Sanako had suddenly wanted the ongoing shoot to have. On your way to the studio, you almost tripped over your own feet at least twice, cursing your heels beneath your breath.
Sae was bored out of his mind. He had accepted to do this shoot only because his manager convinced him it would boost his popularity (as if he needed that…). However, his focus snapped onto you when he saw you step into the room. Sae has never forgotten a face, and yours was crystal clear in his mind. He never thought he would see you again– and mostly not that soon. He almost visibly cringed at the memory of the failed interaction at the party a few weeks ago. Although, his face stayed as unmoved as a carved statue, his cerulean eyes not leaving your form.
You struggled with the multiple suits, thanking the other assistants a thousand times when they came to help you. Feeling someone’s gaze on you, you looked around. Your eyes found Sae’s, your breath hitching at the intensity of his eyes. You had to rethink who he was, if you had already interacted with him beforehand. Yes. Sae Itoshi. The party. You remembered how his skin glowed prettily under the night city lights. You remembered he wore some Gheling’s suit. You remembered how he had been a bit clumsy with his words beneath that unshakable neutral expression. This time, his bangs were styled in their usual up position– in your opinion, he looked better when they were down. You had probably read on a report that he was the one doing the shoot, but you didn’t acknowledge the information since it wasn’t the most important part of your job. Years of training allowed your brain to sort out capital and key elements you absolutely must remember and the ones you could forget in the span of a few seconds. Really, your memory was your strongest asset.
Back to the staring contest with Sae Itoshi. You could’ve sworn he left for Madrid soon after the party. You weren’t his assistant though, so his schedule was a mystery to you. But you found it strange that a professional athlete would spend that much time in a country where he wasn’t actively training. The guy was a work obsessed beast after all. You could relate to that side of him.
Since ignoring him would’ve been straight up rude, you made your way to him.
“Good to see you, Mr Itoshi. Hope you’re doing well.” You greeted him with your practiced smile. “Is the photoshoot going smoothly?”
He hummed as an approval, slightly tilting his head as he studied you. His stomach felt like it was growing butterflies in reaction to your voice, and he wasn’t comfortable with this weird feeling.
“Do you need anything?” You asked, wanting to make sure he was at ease.
“...Your number.” He responded bluntly.
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Your brain froze. What? Did you hear that right?
His eyes widened slightly, stunned by his own words. “Forget it.” He looked away, a faint blush creeping at the nape of his neck. “That was nothing.”
You chuckled awkwardly. “Uhm… Well I can definitely give you my number if that’s what you want.” You grabbed a piece of paper from the catering table and wrote your phone number on it. You handed it to him.
Sae stared at it for a few seconds, as if it was about to bite him. Then, he took it and stuffed it into his pocket in silence. He finally muttered a half-hearted “Thanks.”
Your phone rang, it was Mrs Sanako. “I’m so sorry, I have to go. I would’ve loved to stay here but she probably wants me on the other side of town in 5 minutes.” You sighed. Before he could say anything, you were gone again.
Sae closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. How come he was so bad at interacting? At least, this time he got your number. He went back to the photoshoot reluctantly. He just wanted this day to be over.
That night, the football prodigy stared at the new contact he created for you. He kept on having butterflies in his stomach and he didn’t understand why. It felt so overwhelming to him. For once in his life, he felt his focus drift on something else than football. He wanted to see you again. He wanted to make time for you through his loaded schedule. The need to send you a message was becoming huge, but he didn’t know what he would say to you. So instead he fell asleep with his phone in his hand, open on your contact.
For the next couple days, he kept on writing the draft of what could be his first message to you. Unfortunately, nothing felt good enough. Should he ask you out? You were probably too busy with work. Should he just text you hi? Wasn’t that weird? Sae Itoshi, a titan in the actual world of football, who never hesitated, who always knew what to do, was overthinking something so simple and mundane. If he was being real though, your mind had surely wandered far away between Matsuo Sanako’s schedule and names of ambassadors and coffee orders. You had probably forgotten you had given him your number.
When he finally decided to make a move and send a message, it was a Friday night past midnight. Rationality was nowhere to be seen anymore. He texted a simple ‘hi, it’s Sae Itoshi.’ He wasn’t expecting a reply, but when the three dots appeared just four minutes after, it took all his self control to not throw his phone across the room.
Surprisingly, the conversation flowed easily. Sae found himself enjoying it, a warm bundle forming between his ribs. He learned that you actually had a day off the following day. He jumped on the occasion and asked if it would be okay to meet up somewhere. Much to his surprise, you agreed.
Therefore, he was currently sitting before you at some fancy bar. The dim lighting of the room was setting a calm and pleasant atmosphere. It wasn’t crowded, the perfect spot for a first date. Some jazz music was playing softly in the background. The poor guy was nervous, fidgeting with the edge of his cuffs. Never thought he’d be the guy to get anxious over someone. You were wearing some designer’s clothes you had taken from the magazine’s closet. In his eyes, you were the prettiest thing he ever laid his eyes upon. He hadn’t realized he was staring until you waved your hand in front of his face.
“Earth to Mr Itoshi.” You smiled. “You’re staring.”
“I already told you to call me Sae.” He mumbled, looking away.
“Alright, Sae.” You paused. “Impressed by my outfit?” You teased.
“...What…? No…” He muttered, staring down at his glass.
“Aw so you think it sucks?” You countered, pouting in a fake disappointed manner.
“Don’t put words in my mouth…”
Realizing you won’t get anything from him if you kept talking about clothes, you shifted the conversation to something you were sure he could talk about : himself and his career. You straightened on the stool.
“So tell me, Sae.” You started. “What are you still doing in Japan? I thought you currently competed in Spain. Not that I’m a fanatic of football, but that much I know about your career.”
He glanced at you, a hint of surprise tainting his lovely icy eyes before settling back to his usual bored expression.
“I had to renew my passport.” He replied. “And we are in the process of deciding if I have to come back to train in Tokyo. They want me in the National team of Japan.” He explained.
“Really?! That’s actually great, isn’t it? Back to your home country.”
He shrugged slightly. “I guess. I just want to play football and be the best at what I’m doing.”
For the rest of the evening, you two kept on talking about football. You were learning about his world while asking more and more questions, truly curious. Honestly, even if Sae wasn’t the talkative guy, it was obvious he loved his job dearly and you admired it. You were the same. Your job was your life and you didn’t know what you’d do without it (even if sometimes Mrs Sanako was close to snapping your last straw.) This night had been a breath of fresh air in both your busy lives. Since then, you made time to see each other every week, on Saturday evenings. Sae would never admit it, but he always looked forward to seeing you. What started as a failed interaction ended as a blossoming love.
Strangers becoming friends, friends becoming something more. However, you never had time to put on a real label on what you two truly were. Over the past year,you have both become a constant presence in each other’s lives. It wasn’t unusual to hang out together in the safety of one’s apartment after a work day. You never had time to go to his matches (much to your dismay), nevertheless it didn’t seem to bother Sae. Late night talks with him weren’t uncommon. You learned more about his personal life, about his conflict with his younger brother, about his friendships and about his colleagues... You quickly grasped who he was and that voicing his feelings wasn't something he did easily.
So there was never any grand declaration of love. It just happened quietly, progressively. No fancy dates, no grand gestures to impress you. Always in the privacy of the apartment. Your first kiss? You were drying your hair in the bathroom when he popped in and kissed you out of the blue, then left without a word, leaving you flabbergasted (not that you’re complaining). Your first intimate time? Some random Wednesday night after ordering take out from the closest restaurant, your hair wasn't even washed. Sae was a quiet lover. He would never say ‘I love you’ out loud or show public displays of affection. However the slight fond look of his gaze when staring at you, or the small gifts he would buy you proved his feelings. Really, you loved how he would see a pen with a drawing of a bunny and just buy it to give it to you because it made him think of you. It wasn’t much. But it was more than enough. He wasn’t stepping in your loaded schedule, and you weren’t interacting with his. Just two people meeting at the same apartment during nighttime.
Nonetheless, you saw the change throughout the following couple of years spent together. Sae was growing tired of your phone ringing while you were hanging out, knowing it was Mrs Sanako asking for yet another thing, making you reluctantly leave his side. In his eyes, you weren’t the problem. In fact you were just doing your job. Though he could see it was burning you out slowly. This work environment was nothing more than toxic. You were never acknowledged for the amount of work you were putting for your boss and the company. At first he said nothing. Then he tried to talk about it with you (in his emotionless, tactless way), but you shrugged it off, telling him you loved what you were doing and you had to be honoured to be working for Thee Matsuo Sanako (as if you weren’t dating Thee Sae Itoshi, duh). He could see you had no social life. You barely had any friends except the ones at work–that you never saw outside of Catwalk’s building– you barely had any time to see your family and you barely had time to stay with him more than a night. He was a work thirsty man, but you were on a whole another level. It wasn’t passion anymore, it was obsession slowly rotting inside you and cutting the oxygen from your lungs. Since the beginning of your relationship, you have never seen him play in real life. You merely watched rediffusions when he was analysing them on the TV in the living room before falling asleep on his lap.
Sae loved you more than anything. He couldn’t deny some part of him was glad you were so busy because it kept your relationship secret (you were never seen outside together since your schedules never aligned to go on a date outside, and you both were always too tired to go to a fancy restaurant). He knew he wanted to live his whole life with you by his side. But he couldn’t do it. Not like this. To love each other meant choosing each other every day. And sometimes he doubted that you chose him over your work. Were you dating him or Matsuo Sanako at this point? There had been rough moments, obviously. And he was willing to go through them if it meant he was still yours in the end.
So, when he heard your phone ringing at 5:30 in the morning on a Sunday, he reached over the bed before you could grab your phone on the nightstand next to you. You frowned, confused.
“Sae!” You sat up, trying to not ogle his shirtless muscled frame and trying to focus on the fact he was currently holding your ringing phone hostage. “Come on, it's not funny. I could be fired if I don’t answer her.” You tried to grab the phone from his hand.
Sae tucked the phone under the mattress beneath him, to make sure you couldn’t reach it. “Then let her fire her.” He countered.
You stared at him, feeling frustration bubbling up in your chest. “Stop. Stop whatever you’re trying to do.” You scolded. “Give me my phone.”
“No.”
“Sae.”
“Get it by yourself if you’re so eager to answer your girlfriend.” He muttered, shifting to lay on his side, back facing you. He closed his eyes, as if going back to sleep.
“Girlfr– what? Sae. What the hell are you saying? Just move already!” You scoffed, pushing his side, trying to open the way for your phone that wouldn’t stop ringing. You could swear it was the third time Mrs Sanako was calling you in a row, and it was as if you could see her fuming. Sae wouldn’t budge. Your shoulders slumped. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, defeated and upset.
Sae glanced at you. Sighing, he sat up, his back leaning against the headboard. “Listen. Can’t you see she’s exploiting you?”
You frowned. “What do you mean? I’m just doing my job. It’s what it takes to be with the elite.”
He stared at you for a few seconds. “Are you being serious?” He deadpanned. “I’m a part of the elite, so is my manager. I don’t overwork him like that.”
You were about to retort something but he had a point. Your phone stopped ringing. Your instincts were screaming to push Sae and call back your boss. However, he made you realize that the way you worked was far from healthy.
Sae cupped your cheek. “Quit your job…”
Your shoulders slumped. “And do what? I don’t know what I'll do without Mrs Sanako or Catwalk…”
“We’ll sort it out. Together.” He stroked your face. “You could even become my personal assistant. I’d like that.” He admitted softly.
Your eyes widened. You never considered that possibility. But now that it was bare in front of you, it felt like the right path to follow.
“You can do that?” You questioned.
Sae nodded. “For you I can do anything.” He pulled away, resting his hand on your lap. “Think about it. We’ll talk about it later.” He grabbed your phone from beneath the mattress and gave it back to you.
For a moment, you just looked at it. Eventually, you took it and went to phone your boss to see what she needed. Without surprise, you left the apartment. What Sae had told you blossomed into your chest. A giddy smile appeared on your face whenever you thought of the possibility of working with your man. When you came back that night, your eyes caught the pink haired man’s form on the couch. He glanced at you over his shoulder.
“I’ll do it.” You paused. He was holding back a smile, his eyes fond. “I’ll work with you. I’ll quit tomorrow.”
These simple words, that felt so easy to say, were the doors to your new healthy life alongside the love of your life. And at that precise moment, you felt lighter than a feather, the weight sitting on your chest vanished. You sat next to Sae, curling into his side. “When’s your next match? I’ll be in the first row this time.”
prguitarman
romaincrisis
theartofmadeline
2087
vaporwave
