chururiii

[chururiii]

rush hour!

[ sakura haruka x gn! reader ]

inspired from this scenario from this otp generator: person a and person b holding hands because there's a crowd but not letting go when they get out of it.

tags: fluff, established relationship, sakura figuring out relationships, and reader being a bit of a tease and liking his blush hehe <3

word count: a little more than 1k !

a/n: i've been dying to write for wind breaker for forever. sakura haruka you're so cute i love you sm you deserve everything good

“C’mon Haru! Don’t pout!”

Sakura sputters, a familiar red creeping on his face.

“Not pouting!”

While your lovely boyfriend is “not” pouting, he follows you through the streets of the shopping district, as you search for a gift for your friend’s birthday.

He yawns, but makes sure to keep an eye on you so he doesn’t lose you somehow, knowing your habit of wandering off. If you both got separated, it would’ve been more bothersome for him after all.

He was planning on spending the day off from school at home, but you had other plans and showed up at his door bright and early and practically dragged him out.

At the thought, he can’t help but scowl a little at how easily you bossed him around in his own home. The treatment from his friends is one thing, but from you too? 

He knows you all mean well, not really meaning it when he yells at the guy in his class or you to get out, not truly anyways, but he keeps his endearment to himself. He can already see how you’d all tease him for it.

You look back again at Sakura and smile, seeing his scowl as he gets lost in thought. He’s so cute.

You slowed your pace and without warning planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

He just about falls over, nearly tripping over his own feet, spluttering again. Your smile is still there, a little more amused if anything, but also soft. 

“Thank you for coming with me today Haruka”

He looks away, red still tinted on his cheeks as he mumbles, “...s’ nothing.”

You hum, pleased, and continue to match your pace with his, walking next to him now as you look around at all the stalls and stores out and about.

He takes a peek at you when you’re not looking and his gaze falls towards your free hand, feeling his own twitch. Sakura feels his cheeks get hot again and he quickly looks away.

You’re always so patient and gentle with him when it comes to your relationship, and it makes his eyes prick with tears more often than not. 

It pisses him off that he has a hard time doing practically anything when it comes to any displays of affection, public or otherwise because you just seem so…unbothered about it, just being too understanding. 

You’ve reassured him that you don’t mind that he’s not so openly affectionate, but you have to be a little disappointed in him right?

He can swing his fists and backflip into kicks no problem, but holding hands? With you? The thought alone makes his heart pound and hands sweat. But…it’s not like he doesn’t want to. That’s what makes him so nervous. What if he does something wrong? What if you don’t want to hold his hand after all?

Before he could dwell much more about it, all of a sudden, a huge wave of people just started to walk past you both from both directions.

He hears you yelp and his head snaps back, seeing you struggle with the crowd.

You lock eyes with him and you can’t help but call out for him, slight panic in your voice.

“H-Haru!”

He tries to get to you, ignoring all the people bumping into him, all his focus on getting to you.

He reaches out for you, struggling a little bit as someone knocks into him again.

“Oi!”

He manages to take a hold of your hand and tugs you forward as he makes a path through the crowd, looking back every so often to make sure you’re okay.

Staring at the back of his head, then to your linked hands, you can’t help the light pink flush that dusts across your cheeks, keeping quiet as he maneuvers you both through the sudden wave of people.

Eventually, he leads you both to a quieter part of the street, grumbling about the sudden onslaught of people and how they were bumping into you.

You stay silent as he complains, realizing that Sakura himself probably hasn’t realized your linked hands, much less how he was the one to initiate, even if it was to rescue you from the crowd.

As a little experiment, you squeeze his hand and you nearly trip when he suddenly stops, and you watch as his face becomes as red as one of Umemiya’s tomatoes. Sakura suddenly lets go of your hand, stammering as you stare.

“T-That was nothin! I-It was just because of that stupid crowd! I didn’t mean to grab onto your stupid hand I–WAIT don’t get the wrong idea I was just—!”

Sakura’s breath hitches as you start to laugh, clearly finding the whole thing funny, and Sakura starts to yell, more embarrassed than anything.

“Stop laughing at me! It’s not funny you–!”

You beam at him, eyes shimmering with mirth.

“Aw, does Sakura Haruka, Furin class 1-1 grade captain want to hold my hand? You’re so cute Haru, of course you can hold my hand!”

He practically stomps away, having enough of your teasing and you laugh again, catching up to him, your grin widening when he grumbles and takes your hand in his without another word. 

Your grin softens into a gentle smile as the two of you walk in peace, and in your head, your original mission of the day gets pushed back for the meantime, intending on savoring as much time as possible holding your fickle, but kind boyfriend’s hand.

You gently swing your joined hands, the moment serene and peaceful as the sun shines bright above and the cool breeze causing the wind chimes to gently tinkle, the sound accompanying the bustle of people all around you both.

Sakura lets out a soft breath, feeling the familiar pang of warmth he feels in his heart that only happens when he’s with you.

But you just have to ruin the moment because in clear disregard for your life (not that he would ever hurt you), you poke fun at him one last time.

“...Your hand is getting sweaty, Haru. Are you nervous?”

“Shaddup!”

a/n: sakura haruka you're so cute

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate on here or any other sites!

[chururiii]

Hello, may I request windbreaker boys ( the trio ) + anyone you like to add with a crush who’s like yuki itose from a sign of affection? Where the reader is deaf and cant hear even with her hearing aids but only can pick out small sounds but she can't pinpoint where it comes from because its like blends in with everything? but is fine with it and is very content with her life and enjoys living, and shes like kind and delicate yet also honest yet also shy? Like whenever they get too close on her personal she’ll mentally scream into her mind and is shy towards affection? + them hearing her laugh for the first time because she never really talks? Thank you!

"a sign of affection" — ft. sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko

prompt : fem!reader, kind honest and shy deaf!reader that can only pick out small sounds with hearing aids but can't pinpoint where it comes from and can read lips (a sign of affection, yuki itose)

sakura haruka

at first, he didn't know how to act around you. but you were persistent. you took out your pen and notebook and began conversations with him. you tell him he can ask questions and he does, carefully. he gets to know you more and starts finding you cool.

he won't admit it but he talks slower when he's with you. he's aware of how fast he speaks and adjusts himself to make you lip-read easier. though, having you stare at his lips so often makes him nervous.

i can't imagine a world where sakura likes someone and is able to keep it a secret.

once, you held his hand to fix it in the correct position you were teaching—he asked you to teach him sign language—his body freezes and he short-circuits. when you notice and remove your hands to ask about it, he says "it's just the heat" with shaking hands and a red face (it was winter).

it's kind of comforting for him that he isn't the only one blushing when the two of you are together. you usually follow suit once you realize you're the reason sakura is flustered.

also the type to fret about you a lot. he knows that you can handle it on your own and you've reassured him multiple times but he just gets worried and protective, especially in a town like makochi.

when he hears you laugh for the first time, you better have an air conditioner you can pull from thin air because his whole entire being is overheating. he finally felt what class 1-1 felt when he was the one who laughed. 'but there was no way his' could compare to yours,' he thought to himself. he felt like there were subtle hearts in his irises from how harder he fell for you.

he quietly and shyly comments: "you have a nice voice," when you notice the state he's in.

surprises you one day when he signs a phrase you hadn't taught him: i like you.

suo hayato

lowkey, probably already knows japanese sign language. he hasn't mentioned to anyone before that he knew multiple languages; just imagine the absolute shock on his friends' faces when they see him effortlessly converse with you.

naturally, you're drawn to him—being one of the few people in makochi that you can easily talk to. and he's equally drawn to you, with the calmingly sweet atmosphere you bring with you everywhere you go.

he finds you adorable and loves to tease you—wallows in how you shy away when you're flustered. one time, he lightly asked if he was going too far. and you—being the girl who's never afraid to speak her mind—immediately opposed it (which was fodder for even more teasing since you practically admitted to liking it).

most of the time though, you just enjoy spending time and talking with him. whether it would be discussing a book the two of you have read or something mundane like how each other's days went, he could sit quietly and watch you yap all day. literally, the best listener.

he can be serious when he wants to be and always watches you close enough to read your mood. when he senses that you're down or upset, he does everything in his power to find out what's wrong and cheer you up. he just knows exactly what to say and do. he strives to be the person you lean on when you have a problem.

when he first hears you laugh, it's like time stops for a second. he allows himself to get flustered—his mouth gapes and eyes widen by a fraction. he believes it might be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. this is also when he can whole heartedly admit that he liked you.

subtly makes much more of an effort to show you his fondness and basically courts you.

nirei akihiko

he's a very curious person. i believe he will try to learn more about you and your life—while consistently asking for reassurance that he isn't overstepping your boundaries.

he would be the most diligent to learn sign language. he researches a lot and watches youtube tutorials in his free time, only sometimes asking you for tips and corrections. though he doesn't always get it right—often mixing up random words like 'interesting' with 'breakfast' and whatnot—but at least he's making an effort. that's enough to make your heart beat faster.

i'm pretty sure he developed his crush for you very early on. his first impression of you was that you were pretty and looked like an angel. picture his reaction when he found out you acted like an angel as well.

unlike sakura, i imagine nirei to be able to adapt more quickly to romantic scenarios (sorry, sakura). especially since you're so kind and patient with him. like after more time spent together, nirei doesn't get as nervous as he was before and starts to be a lot more comfortable around you (vice versa).

he's very attentive. when you're together in groups, he's always beside you and answering any questions you may have like what the others are talking/laughing about. and he always makes sure you're never alone and left out.

he is amazed and in awe when he hears you laugh. cheeks blushed pink while he stares you. when you notice and stop, he gives you the widest smile and signs you so much compliments. he also encourages you to use your voice more.

deadass freezes and pales when he realizes he talked too much and immediately apologizes. he frantically signs that you don't have to use you're voice if you're not comfortable. but also gestures about how everything he said about your laugh was true like how it was so melodic and pretty and that you were truly an angel sent from heaven bla bla bla.

you had to snap him from his trance, holding his panicked hands in your fist. you let out a small giggle. you gently put down his hands to reply that it was okay and to thank him.

i think nirei faints in relief after.

notes : THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING MY FIRST REQUEST!! i got so excited that i got it done in a day 😭 I LOVE A SIGN OF AFFECTION ITS SO TOOTHACHINGLY ADORABLE 🩷 AND ILY I HOPE U LIKE IT ANON 🫶 p.s: please don't be afraid to inform me if any part of what i wrote comes off as offensivee, thank youu!

[chururiii]

GYAAAGHH! I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH I LOVE HIS BLUSHY FACE GOOOOOOOODDDDDDD❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I wanna take his face in my hands and kiss is all over 💋💋💋 he might explode but he'll be fine later 👍👍👍

[chururiii]

I understand that rohan is somewhat to an extent a self insert of araki but SOMEONE NEEDS TO STUDY THE ACTUAL OBSESSION THIS MAN HAS OVER ROHAN BECAUSE ITS GETTING OUT OF HAND

[chururiii]

Cute Sakura reacting to receiving chocolates on Valentine 😌❤️

[chururiii]

That Old Familiar Lie

Sakura Haruka x F!Reader

Summary: After Sakura comes home from a tough fight, you wake up beside him and realize just how much you love him. Or, first time love confessions, lots of tears, and the good old waking up beside each other trope. (Sakura and reader are in their 20’s! He has graduated from Furin)

tags: fluff, mentions of knife wound but nothing graphic, mentions of blood, canon-typical injuries really, reader cries a lot, sakura cannot vocalize his feelings normally

a/n: ummmmm ch 169 made me fall in love with this series all over again and the look on his face in that panel is the cause of this. iykyk. title taken from the calendar, the energy (if this is you then woe is me) by matthew thiessen and the earthquakes

wc: 2.8k

You’re not sure what pulls you out of slumber. A strip of shifting sunlight filtering in through the gauzy curtains, maybe, or an unshakable urge to check in on Sakura. Last night’s fight was a rough one; he’d stumbled home early, blood-splattered and bruised, one suit sleeve torn. Vaguely, you recall dreaming about him and his dozens of small injuries. The details are hazy. Something about bleeding out on your couch while you fruitlessly applied pressure on the wound.

Slowly, you blink your eyes open, bleary gaze landing on Sakura’s still-sleeping form. Relief soothes the last rough edges of your nonsense dream. Good, you think. He needs his rest.

Sakura’s all loose curves in sleep—body slightly arched forward, left arm tucked underneath his head, legs bent at the knee. His right arm has migrated from also supporting his head to resting atop your waist. Black hair obscures his face, longer strands fluttering with each measured exhale from between parted lips.

The rest of your dream-induced worry fades as understanding sinks in: he’s alive and mostly in one piece.

A large white patch covers his right cheek. Smaller butterfly bandages mar his chin and nose. Your attention drifts down, following the slope of his shoulder, where a line of white peeks out from underneath the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.

While patching him up, he’d outline the broad strokes of last evening’s brawl. A group of men attending Pub Ougi’s show decided to prove they were still just as tough and rowdy as they’d been in high school. Bastards, Sakura had muttered as you cleaned his split knuckles. Thinkin’ they can impress people by actin’ shitty. Shoulda kicked ‘em out from the start.

A few rounds of beer did nothing to improve the situation, and by the time Roppo Ichiza finally stepped in to escort the former delinquents away, all hell broke loose. Nothing out of the ordinary, until one man pulled a knife. Not a small pocket knife, either, but the kind meant to cause serious harm.

You know Sakura’s line of work is dangerous. You know he’s fought tooth and nail his entire life. And you know he will handle whatever’s thrown his way. Yet sometimes, seeing the physical evidence of all he puts himself through makes your heart ache. What was he like, before the world told him he was wrong? Before he expected cruelty in place of kindness? How old was he when he was forced to place all his worth into his fists?

That casual heartlessness is something you’ll never understand. Loving Sakura is the easiest thing in the world.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, you scoot closer, then wiggle your arm free from the weight of the blankets and his own limb. Sakura shifts, knees brushing yours, but doesn’t stir. You wait until he settles completely before reaching your hand up, fingertips tenderly sweeping soft strands of black hair off his forehead. A tiny cut reveals itself above his eyebrow.

The ache in your chest grows.

He’s so serene when he’s asleep. No tension creases his brow, no scowl curls his lips. It’s almost as if his body knows this is the only time he won’t have to fight for his existence. Your fingers still. Tears well unbidden along your lash line and you rapidly blink them away. This is far from the first time you’ve seen the injury-laden aftermath of a fight. Putting him back together has become a routine.

Perhaps your tears are a result of too many little things piling up—his casual nature about being injured, the soft, thoughtful way he looks at you when you’re applying antiseptic. The way his arm had curled around your waist before he drifted off, fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt in silent gratitude.

Or, that little voice in your head whispers, in a plea to stay by his side.

You immediately push that voice aside. The very notion of breaking his heart by leaving is unthinkable. Despite your best efforts, a tear slips from the corner of your eye, dripping over the bridge of your nose and eventually into the hair at your temple. Mentally shaking yourself, you will the rest of the stupid tears away. The last thing Sakura needs right now is to wake up and find you crying.

So you force your fingers to resume their slow card through his hair. A few pieces refuse to lie flat, much like the two strands that perpetually stick up from his part. You hope he never loses those boyish casts to his features. It’s endearing, if a little heartbreaking, those final, clinging pieces of a lost childhood.

“I love you,” comes your soft whisper. Three words he most likely can’t hear in the land of the waking without turning a concerning shade of red. In his dreams, however, you hope his reaction is a bit less volatile.

Some minutes later, Sakura’s face scrunches. On instinct, your fingers still once more, allowing him time to register his surroundings as he rouses. A few heartbeats pass, and then his blue eye peels open, a piece of the post-dawn sky. “Good morning,” you say softly, lips twitching into a smile.

His cheeks, predictably, flush a delicate shade of pink, making the bandages stand out starkly in comparison. “Mornin’”, he returns, voice thick with sleep. “What’re ya doin’?”

The hand on your lower back has not moved, you note. His muscles remain loose, too, as if holding on to the last dregs of sleep. “Playing with your hair.” Honesty, when it comes to physical touch, is the best approach with him. Especially in regards to any physical features, such as his hair. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His eyebrow twitches. Shock flickers like lightning across his expression. You begin retracting your hand, only for Sakura to make a noise of protest. “Ya don’t have to stop.” A pause. His blush darkens. “‘N quit worryin’. Didn’t wake me,” he assures without annoyance. Eye closing, he yawns, though you have a sneaking suspicion he’s faking it to hide the clear, desperate want for a loving touch so evident moments ago.

Normally, you’d almost laugh, but this time it just makes your throat tighten uncomfortably. You oblige with comment, idly twirling silken strands between your fingers. The faint scent of his shampoo wafts towards you. “How are you feeling?”

Both eyes open this time. You can just make out the glint of gold mostly obscured by white bangs, the sun bursting behind clouds. Before he can answer, a real yawn cuts him off—you can tell by the way his jaw cracks this time. “Fine.” Underneath the sheets, he stretches out his legs, uncurling his spine, then freezes, mouth pinching in a grimace. “….still sore.”

It strikes you with sudden clarity how incredibly lucky you are to see Sakura at his most vulnerable. More than that; to so utterly hold his trust that he no longer thinks twice about having you by his side. Emotion swells within you. “Fighting off drunkards in your sleep?” You tease, though your voice comes out slightly strained.

Sakura picks up on it. His hand tightens in your shirt, knuckles brushing against the notches along your spine. “What’s wrong?”

The intimacy in that question threatens to undo you. Even now, years removed from that emotionally scarred boy of fifteen, he often struggles with more in-depth conversations. Not from a lack of desire to have them; little experience coupled with the inability to articulate what he’s thinking without resorting to anger makes him easily frustrated. (In your heart, you understand the hurt little boy living inside his head expects a hostile reprimand for voicing his thoughts.)

Your bottom lip trembles. Panic makes him life his head, your hand dropping lifelessly onto the mattress between you. “Whuh—are you hurt? Why’re you cryin’?” Mistaking the cause, he quickly lifts his arm off your waist. Cool air rushes in, replacing his warmth, and now the tears spill.

Pushing yourself upright, you wipe frantically at your cheeks, tucking your knees up against your chest. “I-I’m sorry, Sakura,” you hiccup. “I was thinking about you, and the knife, and—” You sniffle, cutting yourself off. There’s more, of course, but it’s enough for him to deal with your sobs. Everything else can wait.

Sheets rustle as Sakura sits up as well, all traces of grogginess and lingering pain replaced with an earnest discomfort. You feel his eyes on you, sense his helplessness. “The knife?” He asks, like he barely remembers it himself. Like it’s of so little consequence, he can’t possibly imagine why that, of all things, would set you off.

Whatever it is, his question pulls a half laugh, half sob from your chest. He must think you’re going crazy; yet he scoots closer, hand alighting awkwardly on your shoulder. He’s trying. The small effort speaks volumes, your shoulders relaxing under his weight.

No one has ever cried over him—not like this, at least.

What does he even ay in this situation? He can’t fistfight whatever crazy thoughts are whirling around your head. “’M alright,” he eventually settles on, shrugging his right shoulder as if to prove it. “Hardly even stings.” (A lie; the bandages tug uncomfortably along the large scab on his bicep.)

Your body continues to shake. There’s no hint of that fond, exasperated smile you give him when you know he’s playing it cool. Sakura frowns; in his defense, it looked a hell of a lot worse than it felt. The image of your stricken face when he’d walked in, suit sleeve torn and stained red, flashes in his head. His frown deepens.

His thoughts feel sluggish—he’s in desperate need of another hour or so of sleep and a good, filling meal after. But your lack of response finally makes something click. Whatever’s causing this outburst is about more than just the knife wound.

Anything he can think to say or do feels woefully inadequate. With his free hand, he rubs the back of his neck, ignoring the discomfort radiating along his arm. What would you say? You make this shit look so easy. Cautiously, he pats your shoulder. “….I’m here. And…I’ll try bein’ more careful?” This last comes out like a question, his voice rising not because he’s lying, but because he’s unsure how to stem your flood of tears. Soothing people has never really been his strong suit.

Your breathing hitches. Peeling your head up, you stare at him, tears sticking to your bottom lashes. Sakura quickly averts his gaze, however, fingers dig into your shoulder in silent reassurance. It grounds you, oddly enough. With a rather loud sniff, you give him a watery smile.

“Promise?”

“Hah?” He fixes his attention on you, heterochromatic eyes flashing in the early morning sun. “If some bastard comes at me with a knife, I’ll try not to get hurt—” He stops. Shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts.

You watch those two strands of hair—one black, one white—at his part wobble with the motion. Your smile grows. Sakura clears his throat and starts over.

“I ain’t gonna stop runnin’ into fights. It’s my job, and I’m good at it. But I…I don’t like seein’ you upset, okay? So yeah, I promise I’ll try t’be more careful.”

Another tear slips down your cheek. Before you can rethink it, you lean forward, burying your head against his chest. A surprised noise escapes him and you imagine the confused look on his face. All that’s important right now, though, is the rapid beat of his heart underneath your ear and the knowledge that he understood what you didn’t say. You wrap your arms around him, willing yourself to calm down.

“Haruka,” you say, just as he’s slowly returning your embrace. He pauses. You hear him swallow.

“Yeah?”

After a deep inhale, you pull away enough to look at him directly. “…I know you do your best. I don’t care that you come home injured, so long as you come home.”

“Then—”

“It’s just hard seeing someone I love always hurt! I hate that for your entire life, you’ve had to fight!” You don’t mean to raise your voice. Sakura isn’t expecting it, either, blinking in the wake of your eruption. “S-sorry. I’ve never said anything because I don’t ever want to worry you.”

Sakura turns very, very still, an unreadable expression on his face. Red creeps up the tips of his ears, down along his throat, disappearing beneath his t-shirt. “Love?” He repeats carefully. Like he’s never said it before and only now can form the shape of it.

Someone loves him enough to cry when he gets hurt? How often do you sit on the worn couch, staring at the front door, wondering what state he’ll be in when he walks in? It’s almost too much for him to bear. He feels on the verge of tears himself.

Oh. You did say that part out loud, didn’t you? A slow nod as your own blotchy cheeks color a uniform pink.

“You—sayin’ that you—gah!” He pulls you into his chest, this time, resting his pointed chin atop your head. Distantly, you appreciate the fact he didn’t push you away so he could go hide while processing this little development. A tremor runs through him; you squeeze your arms ever so slightly. Just to let him know you’re not going anywhere.

He’ll never admit how grateful he is for the reminder.

“I’ve had to fight. It made me strong, ‘n now I can protect others who ain’t strong enough to do it themselves.” Sakura’s breathing heavily, pushing through the natural urge to run to instead offer you his heart on a silver platter. “I can keep you safe. So stop apologizin’ for feelin’ that way! ‘Cause I don’t wanna have anyone else patch me up, got it?”

In other words: I love you, too.

There’s no real outrage in his voice; it’s that old familiar defense mechanism roaring to life, ready to protect his tender heart should this all turn out to be some awful trick.

“Got it,” you reply through a sniffle. The uncurable ache taking root in your chest all morning finally subsides. It’s not gone altogether; a tiny piece of your worry and grief for the life he never had rests in a small corner of your heart, ready to bloom should you give it cause.

And that’s perfectly fine with you. You’ll never stop caring about those things, because you’ll never stop loving him. Tears slowed, you gradually disentangle yourself from his hold. Sakura releases you as well, and you think you detect a hint of relief in the way he leans back. There is only so much physical touch he can handle for a prolonged period of time.

You swipe at your cheeks, your nose. You should probably get up and wash your face, if only to allow him a moment’s peace from your emotions. That contemplative look he gets when rapidly sorting through his own thoughts is on his face.

“I mean it. I lo—”

He flinches, fisting the sheets in his hands, and you immediately bite back the words. Yikes; maybe you pushed him too far. You wait, patient, occasionally wiping away any straggling tears.

“I know you meant it,” he replies after some moments. “Jus’ not used to anyone sayin’ it.”

His throat works as he swallows. Now that you’ve calmed down, you wonder just what kind of memories you unintentionally dredged up. He’s never mentioned the tiny details of his life before Furin, and you’ve never asked. It doesn’t matter, anyway. You resist the urge to cup his cheeks.

Sakura used to long for someone like you. He’d pass by people on the street, hear them cheerfully profess their love to their kids, their partner, whoever was on the other end of their phone call. He always wondered how they could say stuff like that without thinking twice. It’s embarrassing, and never failed to make him want to crawl out of his skin, even while a piece of him wished he could be normal, like all those mushy people.

Now you’re here, and he flinches. And you just sit there, quiet, letting him work through all the bullshit he can’t quite shake, and he feels like he’s about to burst into a million pieces. A broken tightrope and a field of flowers flit across his mind’s eye. “Not mad ya did. Don’t know if I’ll get used to it, or when I’ll say the same. All I ask is….give me time.”

“Of course,” you breathe, nearly bursting into tears all over again. You want nothing more than to reach out for him, but he’s clearly reached his threshold for the time being. “I need to wash my face. After, I was thinking about pancakes for breakfast.”

“Yeah, sounds fine.” Amazing, how you can let him off the hook so simply. He releases his death grip on the sheets. On impulse—or possibly out of sheer human want—raises his arm and crosses the scant distance between you, thumb removing the last stubborn tear on your cheek.

As the heat of him seeps into you, you know with absolute certainty that you never need to hear him say those three words. He tells you in other, more important ways.

[chururiii]

#169 : ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ

[chururiii]

ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢʀᴜᴍᴘʏ. -`ღ´-

[chururiii]

HE SO BEAUTIFUL🥹

[chururiii]

✴.·´¯`·.·★  ꜱᴀᴋᴜʀᴀ ʜᴀʀᴜᴋᴀ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ  ★·.·`¯´·.✴

[chururiii]

✨🎉 H̥̊ḁ̊p̥̊p̥̊ẙ̥ N̥̊e̥̊ẘ̥ Y̥̊e̥̊ḁ̊r̥̊ 2025! 🥂✨

𒀮*𒀭 ᴡɪꜱʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱᴀᴋᴜʀᴀ ʜᴀʀᴜᴋᴀ ʙʟᴜꜱʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋꜱ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ᴍᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʏᴇᴛ! ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ! 𒀮*𒀭

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him

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Goddamn these bitches gay! Good for them!

[chururiii]

モノノ怪

[chururiii]

According to the DVD/Bluray artworks, his hair is realllllly long. And I can't find scanlations for those anywhere.

I want to have some fanarts of the new medicine seller.