Pairing : Isagi Yoichi (Slursagi) x Hana (OC)
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The bell above the door of Gridiron Grill jingled, a sound instantly swallowed by the roar of a Friday night crowd and the blare of a college football game on five different screens. Hana weaved through the maze of high-top tables and loud groups, her heart doing a little tap-dance against her ribs.
And then she saw him. Slouched in a corner booth, a half-empty basket of chili-cheese fries between him, Isagi Yoichi was staring at his phone with an intensity that could probably melt the screen. He wasn't the boy she knew on the pitch—all blazing eyes and terrifying focus. This version, in a faded hoodie and a beanie pulled low, was… different. Softer around the edges, but with a current of something restless underneath.
"Yoichi!" she chirped, sliding into the booth opposite him.
His head snapped up. The intense focus shattered, replaced by a slow, lazy blink. A lopsided smirk tugged at his lips. "Hana. You made it. Was startin' to think you got lost in all this… noise." His words were a little slow, a little slurred around the edges, like he'd just woken up from a nap.
Hana's smile widened. She loved this version of him. The one who let his guard down. "It's so lively in here! It feels amazing! And ohmygosh, those fries look incredible!" she gushed, her words tumbling out in a happy, pastel-colored waterfall.
Isagi chuckled, a low, rough sound. He nudged the basket toward her. "Get 'em while they're hot. Greasy as hell, but fuck if they ain't good."
Hana didn't need telling twice. She snatched a fry, dripping with cheese and a speck of chili, and popped it into her mouth with a delighted hum. "Mmm! It's like a party in my mouth! So much flavor!"
Isagi just watched her, his elbow on the table, chin propped in his hand. His eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, were hazy with a fond amusement. "You're like a damn cartoon, you know that? All… bright and shit."
"Is that a good thing?" she asked, tilting her head, her tri-colored pink-and-green hair swaying.
"S'whatever. It's you." He took a long pull from his soda. "Better than watchin' these clowns fumble the ball on third down." He gestured vaguely at the nearest screen with his chin.
They fell into an easy rhythm. Hana talked a mile a minute about her day, her classes, a cute dog she saw, all while Isagi listened, interjecting with a grunt, a slurred comment, or that lazy, captivating smirk. He was a man of few words tonight, but each one felt earned.
At one point, a rowdy group at the bar erupted in cheers, blocking the waitress's path. The waitress sighed, exasperated.
Before Hana could even process it, Isagi's demeanor shifted. It was subtle. He didn't stand up or raise his voice. He just turned his head, and the look he leveled at the loudest guy in the group was pure, undiluted menace. It was the look he gave a defender before he devoured them on the field. Cold, calculating, and utterly terrifying.
The guy's laugh died in his throat. He mumbled an apology to the waitress and shuffled his group out of the way.
Isagi turned back to Hana as if nothing happened, the menace evaporating back into lazy indifference. "Where were we?"
Hana felt a blush creep up her neck. It should have scared her. But it didn't. It made her feel… all hot and bothered. And incredibly, stupidly attracted. "Dang, you're kinda scary when you want to be, Yoichi."
He shrugged, picking at the label on his bottle. "S'just noise. Annoying." His eyes flicked back to her. "Can't hear you think with all that noise."
The implication—that he was thinking about her—sent a jolt straight to her heart. She fiddled with her napkin, suddenly shy. "So… what are you thinking about?"
His smirk returned, wider this time, a flash of the predator he was. "Thinkin'… that you eat more than any striker I know. And that I wanna get out of this shithole." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping, the slur making it intimate, conspiratorial. "My place is quieter. We could… I dunno. Order a shitty pizza. Watch a movie. Or somethin'."
It wasn't a smooth line. It was blunt, lazy, and perfectly him. The "or somethin'" hung in the air between them, heavy with promise.
Hana's face felt like it was on fire. She was pretty sure she was emitting steam. This was it. The unguarded, slightly dangerous, totally captivating Isagi Yoichi was asking her back to his place.
Every last bit of her, that whole bubbly, romantic side, was screaming HELL YES.
She beamed at him, a smile so bright it could power the entire city block. "I'd love that! But only if we get extra pepperoni! And maybe some garlic knots! Oh, and cheesy bread! My treat!"
A genuine, full laugh escaped Isagi, rough and unpolished. "Fuckin' hell, woman. Your metabolism is a national treasure." He threw a crumpled bill on the table for the fries and slid out of the booth, offering her a hand.
His grip was strong, calloused from a thousand shots on goal, but his hold was gentle. As he led her out of the noisy din of the Gridiron Grill and into the cool night air, Hana knew one thing for certain. A quiet night with Isagi Yoichi was probably the most exciting, unpredictable thing she could ever imagine. And she couldn't wait for it to start.