#🎨mal.writes

[keimisan]

✓ "a boy kissed me at school today" - tokrev daddies reaction

pairing: mitsuya, rindou, ran and their cute daughters.

a/n: an update after ages? yes.

i am absolutely sure ran's kid doesn't call him dad until later on, she/he just rolls with the name his wife uses. also, mitsuya bestest father ever. and slightly ooc rindou?

mitsuya

"takashi," he hears your muffled voice from over the living room, bubbling with joy when you step into the room with your daughter's hand snuggled into your own, "she wants to tell you something."

this catches mitsuya's attention like none other, and prompts him to gently set his work papers aside to offer your little one his undivided attention. "come here, sweetie," he says, hands extending to usher your daughter to his side.

as expected, your daughter swiftly runs over to mitsuya, excitedly diving into her father's embrace the moment she reaches past his arms. your husband softly pulls her into his lap, securing one of his arms around her waist as the other fumbled over to his papers on the side table, "what does my princess want to tell dada?"

her eyes beam at him and a gorgeous smile graces her lips, one that makes mitsuya reminiscent of the familiar exuberance in your eyes during your early days; except a little too adorned with a childish charm that had him smiling on his own.

excitement lingering in her speech, "a boy kissed me at school today," your daughter simpers.

mitsuya's hands pause right then and there, his expression imitating your amusement when he tries his best to faux sternness, "and where?"

your daughter points to her cheeks, pressing adorably against her plump skin, "here, he kissed me here!"

"hmm, dada's jealous."

while you try your best to stifle your laughter, your daughter falls into a visible dilemma, worried about the fact that mitsuya just admitted to being envious of her newly acquired friend.

mitsuya bites the corner of his lips to suppress the little smile growing inevitably, and lightly pinches his daughter's cheeks, "i thought i was the only one who could do that. what am i going to do now that I'm not special anymore?" he teases.

she looks down, taking the bait, "it felt nice so i thought it was fine...," and then her eyes lift up, hands adjoining together, "but he did it once, i swear! I'll tell him not to anymore if dada's jealous. dada's still very special!"

mitsuya could swear there was no one else more adorable than your daughter, nothing else than her tiny pout that could grip his heart into this warm inescapable chokehold. and there's no way he could possibly deny the proliferating sea-gust of love he had for the both of you, especially when you both were the absolute apples of his eye.

"it's fine baby, it seems like your dada's got competition now. i will compete him fair and square."

"nooo," she tightly wraps her arms around his torso, hands circling around him as far as they could, "dada wins! the boy's kisses are nice but dada's kisses are the best."

"and my little sunshine is the bestest."

mitsuya loves her a bit too much to let go immediately.

rindou

"dada!"

rindou whips his head behind to see you and your daughter entering through the door, her gryffindor harry potter themed school bag hanging in your hands. he returns her enthusiasm with a smile of his own, waving loosely as he speaks, "my girl is back!"

you drop the bag on the corner of the sofa, and your daughter is already jumping beside rindou's leg. your priorly busy husband eyes you to ask what the special occasion was- he, himself rather happy with your little one's jovial mood.

"she has great news today," you say, "come on baby, tell your dad."

she taps his thighs to grab his utmost attention, and rindou complies with genuine interest, "dada listen! a boy kissed me at school today," she says, mirthful, "here, on my cheeks."

the corner of rindou's fatherly smile twitches as he takes in the new information, evidently not happy with it, "that's not great news."

"rindou-"

"but dadaa-"

"no boy kisses allowed for you, little miss." he shakes his head in strong denial, "boys are traitors."— scumbags, he wanted to say. but the language is rather extreme for his lovable, endearing and affectionate daughter that no random boy was allowed to kiss, especially not a little boy who hadn't yet cried his eyes off for her.

and although he thinks that, rindou will never admit to having bawled when she was born.

as much serious as your envious husband looked, you end up bursting in laughter, revelling in his fatherly overprotectiveness you never thought you'd witness, "rindou what are you teaching your girl, oh my god."

your daughter presses her lips together in a spiteful pout, "but dada is a boy too? are you a traitor?"

in rindou's mind he could almost hear your atrocious mockery that you couldn't word out in the current moment.

"dada is an exception of course!" he defends himself, eyes widened as if he were offended, "only your best dad can kiss you."

with that, he pulls his little one into his chest, pressing one too many kisses against her face- which transforms her pout into a giggling fit, much to rindou's pleasure. the room soon fills up with their cutesy banter, a bunch of cheek kisses and a few of your daughter's useless attempts in stopping rindou from any more pampering.

he thinks he loves his daughter too much to endure the likes of a man touching his treasure, and you think he's too into the father role that he feels threatened by a five-year-old boy he didn't even know.

both of you couldn't be any more right.

"i will meet the guy tomorrow, tell him that he has an appointment with the father of the girl he doesn't deserve."

"rindou, no!"

ran

"come on sweetie, don't be hasty, put your socks over there," ran hears your voice mutter around the living room, with the mellifluous laughter of your daughter trailing after your subtle nagging. although his daughter giggled at him everyday after school and excitedly spewed the stories of her day, ran thinks today might be a bit special.

and that makes him even more expectant of the delight his daughter's going to bring.

so the moment both of you step into the room, his lips curl upward, "she seems really happy. something going on? are you all going to prank me?"

you chuckle, patting your daughter's back before she makes a beeline into ran's arms, sitting herself upon his lap as she secures her small hands around one of ran's arms.

"no, ran, our girl's a big girl now."

"and what might that mean-"

before he could finish his sentence, your daughter yanks at his arm, enabling his soft eyes to turn towards her crescent ones, "ran! a boy kissed me at school today!"

ran's expression is as flabbergasted as a deer caught in headlights, and he almost can't believe that his sweet, adorable and most precious angel had been kissed by a boy he totally didn't know, much more, without his approval too. not that he was going to agree to it even if they asked.

"who? a boy?!"

your daughter grips tighter at his forearm, completely swindled by her joy, "yes! he had really soft lips!"

ran huffs a sigh, shaking his head in dissatisfaction, "you're too excited baby. you can't just let a boy kiss you, you know."

"but he was nice."

"no sweetie, i'm sure he's not. besides, he's not dada, therefore, he's not allowed to-"

"but you kiss mama too! that's unfair," your daughter opposes strongly, now leant back on ran's lap as she shoots glares at her father.

while you simply laugh on the sidelines, ran's mouth stutters to form a sentence,

"that's, i, hey!"

"cat got your tongue, dear husband?"

"mommy's right!"

ran feels strangely boycotted by the two of you, as if he's at the target point of a skilled sniper, and bereft of any other options than to give in to both your demanding smirk and your daughter's scrunched brows.

he supposes he didn't have a choice to begin with, since there's no way he can avert his heart from both your inescapable charms thats quite surely the greatest of his weaknesses, "alright, I'm letting it go only because i love you, but no kissing boys until you're twenty okay?"

"now please give dada a hug?" while the little five year old isn't the most happy with her father's set bounderies, she lets it go, knowing full well she can win ran with just another pair of puppy eyes.

your daughter snugly presses her lips against ran's cheeks, the larger man hoisting her into a semi-tight hug, "dad's missed you baby," he says, the smile of the happiest father adorning his lineaments.

"me too, ran dada."

"at least you called me dada."

and ran is almost about to tear up due to his own daughter's cuteness.

taglist: @sxlver-sweet @minwas (tagged you because you moved, but do tell me if you wanna be removed bby) @smilingnekos @isuuki @shinsou-rii @sscarchiyo

[keimisan]

↪ special to me - s. sano

- in which shinichiro sano awaits his twenty first rejection.

pairing: shinichiro sano x fem!reader

warning(s): not proofread! baji keisuke taught emma whats balls meant, not really but he did lmao.

"there's him and there's his friend- behind my back! and they didn't even realize i was there."

you're fuming and vigilantly spilling out your mind as you sit on one of the bench chairs, lifting one leg atop to the other; watching less than attentively how your long-term friend tinkers with the bike, his cream tracksuit smeared with grime.

shinichiro wasn't a college guy, he was rather busy with his motobike shop- which you wholeheartedly supported. but sometimes, you can't but wish that he was there with you when you walked to your college building, there with you to experience the tiresome classes and the never-ending projects, and admittedly, there with you when a bunch of random guys decided to hit on you, that too, after spewing a sea of shit-talks about the same you.

"then they acted like nothing happened and said that i was hot, it's an incredible switch of personalities honestly. how can you bitch about someone and immediately flirt with them." you exclaim, swaying your hand on the bench-top, agitated. but the boy you'd come to for a breath of respite seems rather ignorant of you, having no reaction to your constant trumpets.

and you can’t differ, you were a bit offended when he blew a raspberry on your rants- he usually never did that.

"you're not listening," you apprise.

the sound of metal against metal resonates louder than when he replies, "but i am," completely off with his voice and conduct.

"then why are you not saying anything?"

a tuft of regret creeps into you, thinking that he must've been tired of your persistent complaints after all this time. you mean, it really could get tiring when he can't gossip with you since all you were on about these days was your college life and daily drama.

"it's alright if you don't want to listen to me-"

"i really like you, alright? i like listening to you but don't say stuff like that in front of me, it makes me jealous," shinichiro loudly tightens a screw into the vehicle, beads of perspiration dripping down the side of his face.

but what the fuck?

your eyes are wide like a goldfish and mouth agape like a volatile breed of dog as you exclaim, "wait, w-what? you like who?"

and you almost trip out of your shoes when he replies, "you obviously."

no way.

while you're busy being astonished with your brain running at a thousand miles per hour, shinichiro moves onto another bike, the metal of his hand clashing with the brake levers as he tightens the bleeder screw, "now, before you reject me and make me reach a milestone of twenty one consecutive rejections-"

"you idiot!"

shinichiro jolts out of his skin, his entire organism undergoing a passive shudder as he replies, "well, that's an aggressive approach to rejection. calm down, y/n, i'll take it back-"

"you fucking dork!"

you're picking up a stray metal tool and striding towards him at a petulant pace. it scares the living soul out of him, nonetheless shinichiro couldn't help but notice the sprinkles of domesticity in how you're after his ass, that too- with smoke radiating off of your head; or maybe that's just his imagination, he surmises.

"alright, fine! i don't like you, slow down, slow down," he lifts his arms up in surrender, eyes squinting with your approaching silhouette.

"you absolute arse!"

shinichiro's eyes widen with the rubicund that freckles on your skin, embellishing your skin in the most celestial hue. your dainty fingers press tauter on the unclean metal, and shinichiro backs the fuck down.

"who said i was going to reject you!" you yell at him, his head leaning back on impulse as he peers at you in horror.

"the twenty other girls who rejected me?"

the way you click your tongue is menacing, but shinichiro notes the cutesy details of your tongue mocking him, of your teeth that slide against the wet flesh of your lips, he notes the minutiae attributes of your livid lips at such a close distance; he could shut you up with a kiss, he thinks.

"oh so now i'm other girls, huh? is that how you see me?"

shinichiro backs the fuck down again, "of course not-"

"shut up!"

"yes, okay."

you lean back, your pouty lips ghosting over each other as you slowly keep the heavy tool down. but shinichiro's momentary peace comes down with you jabbing your pointer finger at his chest, voice preferably low, "there's no way i can reject you when i've liked you for four-damn-years, mr. sano shinichiro! you're always chasing other girls and always sulking about how no one wants to date you- while i was always listening to you rant about it and being able to do nothing because i knew you'd never like me!"

the latter's brows link together, "wait, that what I thought."

you couldn't believe it. being oblivious was one thing, but there was a very evident vacancy in your love life that he's sure to have noticed. and you, someone known infamously as his right-arm buddy, liked him just so much that, "have you ever seen me go after another guy? have i ever liked anyone else? no, so how can you think that."

"but, you've never shown interest in me either."

that has your lips stuttering close. he's right, you've never acted more than friends with him, even avoided the friendly acts of a hug or casual touches. so you’ve never given him the impression, probably. a redder blush coats your cheeks, as you prepare yourself for the words you never thought you'd confess, "that's because," you pause, giving him a skeptical look, "that's because you're always after those pretty girls who wear skimpy clothes and i'm just me. i'm not fancy like them, nor am i pretty like them."

"but you're prettier!" shinichiro's quick with his reply as you finish your sentence, a little lace of guilt carving his throat. he takes a small pause, and then takes two steps close to you, looking at you with an intensity you can't turn away from, "you know why most of them rejected me, y/n?"

he takes one of your hands into his cleaner one, gliding his fingers through your bonny gaps and interweaving your hands together, "they said i was in love with someone else. they said they didn't want me because i wasn't genuine with them," he brings your hands above his lips, his dulcet words and supple breaths tickling over your nails, "those girls aren't special to me, you are."

and then, he presses a chaste kiss on your knuckles, his gazing dark eyes as pretty as a picture, "i like you, y/n. will you give me chance?"

you wondered if he'd courted the other girls with this same dreamy look and lilting words; because how could they reject him when your eyes were watery with tears coursing and nipping from deep within. "you dummy-"

before you could finish, a bunch of childish voices surrounded the walls, much courtesy to your breached privacy that was now being shared by the little rascals.

"BRO CONFESSED HAHA."

"I KNEW HE HAD THE BALLS-"

"no, emma where did you learn that?"

"baji keisuke."

shinichiro looked about to leave it all with his eyes straightened in a line, his hands dangling below his hips with no hope, he laments, "didn't even let me have my damn moment."

"you naughty kids, come here!"

your far-long crush now darted after his siblings in applied hurry, not before shooting you an oh-so-flustering wink you'd never even flinched at. and you laugh, having dissolved the reality that the girl-craze shinichiro sano finally didn't get the same indiscriminate words slapped into his cheeks and finally, didn't get rejected to complete his twenty-first rejection milestone.

"wait for me, y/n!"

[keimisan]

↪ sincerely, yours- k. baji

- in which baji keisuke gets anonymous letters from his secret admirer.

pairing: baji x fem!reader

notice: fluff? fluff.

a/n: I said fuck tumblr because the timing is too good.

not proofread, requested

i didn't want to fall in love, not at all. but at some point, you smiled, and holy shit, i blew it.

- sincerely, hopelessly in love.

baji reads through the letter that had mysteriously appeared in his locker, wrapped with a cerulean paper and scented with faint sandalwood perfume. as if the delicate envelope wasn't fancy enough, you'd also taped a piece of grass flower onto the thick and elegant parchment of your letter. he reads it a few more times, his brows knitting as a shred of evidence to a visible confusion.

he wondered if the sender had gotten the wrong locker, and the wrong person too, respectively. but the back of the envelope showcased "keisuke baji" in clear and bolded ink, much to his delight.

instead of a fluster, it raises a question mark in his mind, not to mention he was at a loss with how neat the handwriting looked. it was even neater than chifuyu, who he knew to be a vocabulary and writing genius- and god forbid if the latter knew, baji won't be getting the other half of his yakisoba again.

however, he kept the letter in his pocket, making sure it doesn't form creases. and no one noticed the trifling gleam of joy in his spectacled eyes as he walks off to the first class.

i caught myself smiling, and realised I was thinking about you. but then again, when do i not?

baji keisuke, you make me smile all the time. i hope you'd smile a little more as well, you look beautiful.

- sincerely, the butterflies are cease firing.

this time, baji finds himself smiling uncharacteristically, his head leaning onto his locker to shroud the sight of his flustered grin. and under the shadow of his own hair, baji bites his lips, reminding himself, again and again, it's totally out of his personality. but you'd told him to smile more, you'd told him you'd loved his smile, so how can he not?

the butterflies are cease firing.

baji so badly wished he could use the godly power of psychometry right now, because he was dying to see the person behind the sweet words that lit up his day. while he knew that he wouldn't be able to return their feeling because you can't really fall in love with someone you'd not known- it could be a prankster for all he knew. but the prankster did a good job prepping and choosing words because goddamnit, baji keisuke was flattered.

i saw you smile at my letter the other day, and i once again realized how mesmerizing you are.

I am so impressed with you, your amazing heart. how your mind works, how you live, and especially, how you love.

if you could, would you show me that?

- sincerely, yours.

[name initials]

"fuck yes," baji whisper-yells, completely oblivious to the strange looks he was receiving, and completely dismissing the fact that chifuyu was right there beside him with the other half of their shared yakisoba in his hands.

"what's up?"

baji's head snaps at the other's voice, hastily stuffing the letter back into its wrapping as he shoves it back to his locker, "it's nothing. just realized that my mum would check this maths test and i bummed it."

chifuyu seems to believe that as an answer, lifting his chopsticks as he engorges a spoonful of the noodles in his mouth, speaking in blurred words, "good luck for you then."

you'd never know the humongous charity work you did because the next few days, baji's mother didn't have to slap his ass to wake him up, nor did she have a bucket of ice water prepared to splash him awake. baji keisuke woke up at six in the morning, dressed within five minutes, ate his breakfast that he never did before, and went to school at exactly six-fifteen in the morning.

baji's mom knew school started at eight.

baji stood behind the lockers, hidden, and observing for any passerby to drop a letter in his cabinet- in all intruded secrecy. the fifth day, he sees your silhouette make way, eyes stuttering everywhere to be wary of potential intruders, baji included, though he was just there. you opened the locker that he always kept unlocked- since whoever and whatever had the courage to steal from him must be desiring death or must be mikey.

baji's eyes observed you and no way in hell- he thinks. there was no way an "impulsive aggression" called himself could have you as his secret admirer because you were just so gorgeous he almost couldn't believe his eyes. with a charm as great as yours, and words as sweet as yours, he doesn't think falling irrevocably in love with you is hard at all. and baji being himself, quietly sneaks in behind your back, looking for the right timing to, well, catch you.

just when you were about to close the metal of his lockers, there he was, slamming it shut, inducing a loud resonation to hit your ears as you immediately turn around. the fear in your eyes form sprinkles of anxiety as you look at just who it was, eyes enlargening when you realized- fuck.

it was keisuke baji!

"i-i'm so sorry!"

your head hits his chest when you attempt to bow, embarrassing, you'd say; but then baji leans in, having your back flat against the metal, apprehension clear in your orbs that avoided his at any cost, he says, "so it's you, [name initials]"

it's embarrassing to be caught.

"you're as beautiful as your letters, I see."

and as if your cheeks weren't warm enough, he makes your stomach churn with an entire zoo clattering against your ribs. you have no idea how to reply, nor do you have the courage to, not when your lips are about to bleed with how hard you bite at it.

but you're so happy to see him up close.

"i-, uh, thank you. you too."

you mentally slap yourself for stuttering out such a lame reply, but baji seems to be satisfied with it as he releases you from the hold that had you breathless, almost tripping your stilled feet as he says, "there's still an hour before school, so do you like peyoung yakisoba? we could get some, talk and maybe i can smile a little bit more."

your eyes widen yet again, lips unable to form a coherent reply with how fast your heart was hammering against your chest, almost on its way to break through and drop right into his welcoming hands. but nonetheless, you gather the minimum vocal strength you could muster and speak, "of course, i love yakisoba."

the first reply you'd liked and the first reply that was not fictitiously embarrassing.

baji grins, his eyes squinting as the smile reaches up to his eyelids- and your heart skips a significant beat.

"well then, tokyo manji gang, first division captain, baji keisuke. nice to meet you."

and chifuyu wasn't there to remind him that he wasn't going on a fight.

[keimisan]

Tokyo Revengers

headcanons

when they see doodles of themselves in your notebook

pairing(s): ran, rindou, koko, inui x gn!reader

i'm sorry i did koko wrong (his one's a bit crack-ish) but his black card's all i can think about now.

we all know he’s a cocky piece of shit.

you were in the kitchen to make him dinner on a last minute notice because he probably called you at 10 in the night and demanded that you be here because he wants to have a home date. at midnight- yes.

you can’t really refuse him because you hadn’t spent time with him in days.

you brought your go-to bag in a hurry, forgetting that it had your notebooks and study materials too.

you tell him to bring you a hair-tie so that you could clip it down, and he probably gets his cocky hands on your notebook.

immediately raises his brows when he sees it. the front page had a doodle of his braids and lazy eyes, he knew it was him- the teenage him, because he didn’t look like this now.

when he opens it though, the pages are filled with cute little drawings of the now him, some of them even with you in his arms.

ran doesn’t even need to guess to know that you’ve missed him, you probably drew these preoccupied-ly, having him in your mind.

he then goes to the kitchen with your hair tie and your notebook. dragging you by your waist, he splays the notebook on the table, smirking as he teases, “missed me baby?”

“as if, ran.”

“are you sure, angel?” he follows you as you get back in front of the stove, hiding your smile behind your lips.

ran wraps his arms around your waist, entrapping you in a lock you can’t even move in and pressing a kiss on your nape like he’d seen in your doodles- and it tickles!

“what are you doing, ran, I’m busy,” you object- you wouldn’t if you could move any other limbs while there’s vegetables boiling in front of you.

“you wanted me to do this, right angel?”

he’s seen it in your drawings, you realize. you really can’t help how your lips stretch in to a rather wide smile.

"that's what you get for drawing me behind my back."

you know and you feel it too- him smiling behind your hair. you guessed he didn't really dislike being portrayed into small chubby figures.

"it's beautiful by the way," he whispers, low enough that you could miss it.

so you actually do end up pretending that you didn't hear; you bite your lips, “no you misinterpreted it. it was just a back hug.”

“oh, that’s even more feasible sweetheart.”

It had been a week since you’d seen him, you know it’s because of the bonten business and he can’t really put you above his work. and you also don’t want to burden him by calling and seeking attention all the time; so while your mouth doesn’t say you miss him, your pencils sure do.

rindou comes home late at night, right the moment he was released from the headquarters and rushes to you. you’re sleeping on the bed and your lamplight on your table showcases your open notebook.

your pencils are scattered haphazardly and the highlighter pens he’d bought you on your second date are right beside the myriad of color pencils and sharpie markers.

he’s quite flustered when he sees himself in the pages, his inimitable hair color and his impassive expression.

he keeps his baggage down and endorses himself into flipping through the pages.

he lets a smile coat his lips- since you’re sleeping anyway, you won’t be able to see him turning into mush over your doodles.

“rin?”

he immediately twirls behind, your sleepy figure right behind him, “did I wake you up?”

“no, I was waiting for you.”

he thinks it’s even more adorable that you don’t remember falling asleep.

but then your half-lidded eyes widen in shock, and you snatch the notebook from his grasp, clutching it to your chest.

it's more than adorable, he thinks, but his eyebrow quirks up and lips form a straight line (though he finds it really hard to not smile) “what are you hiding from me?”

“n-nothing! obviously nothing rin, what do I have to hide haha-”

“is there something I shouldn’t see?” – he is totally having fun.

“of course not!” and then he sees your resolve slowly break down, and you keep the notebook on the table, your voice meek as you say, “you’ve seen them anyway.”

“they’re really cute, y/n. you were never going to show me, were you?”

you knew you weren’t because how embarrassing! those chibi figures don’t suit him at all, you thought he’d probably grimace and tell you what was on your mind when you drew those.

but, “these are too good to be hidden,” he says.

he lowkey fangirls over those chibi drawings but will never tell you because yes, it doesn’t suit the rindou haitani but oh well.

he might as well be whipped for both you and your little drawings.

you were on a home date with seishu, and he’d just gone to put the popcorns in the microwave. you know that he’d be coming real soon, and that you shouldn’t be scribbling on your notebook now of all times- but, there was one space left for another chibi seishu.

look, the temptation is real alright.

while you were eternally busy erasing and drawing, your tongue in between your lips, inupi comes up behind- you knew he did but you needed to get it done, so you don't react.

he silently sits beside you, trying his best to peek into what you were doing through the thick barricade of your hair/ your shadow (in his defense you lean down too much when you draw)

he then sees a lot other chibi figures scattered around the pages, a few colored. it’s undoubtedly him, the light eyes, the scar around their eyes and of course, his blonde hair.

his eyes squint, “i-is that me?”

you don’t respond verbally, but nod your head at him, drawing through the last bits you had left.

“here, done!” you exclaim, holding your notebook up like a trophy. you’re not afraid to show him at all because you know your boyfriend likes cute things, and that he’s really appreciative of anything you like to do- that included your preoccupied drawings and the absent-minded shaking of your leg.

he then takes the notebook from you, keeping it on his lap as he skims through them all, observing. there’s a little smile on his face that you don’t fail to see. he doesn’t say much as he caresses through it.

then his eyes lay upon a rather messy doodle of you both, smiling. “I love this one,” he says, pointing at the drawing you weren’t quite proud of.

“this one? this one’s a bit messy though,” you say.

“but it has us both, I like us together.”

he’s super, super appreciative of your doodles, absolutely loves them. if you ever draw anything, show it to him, his soft praises will cheer you up for the rest of the day.

“I like all of them, your doodles are always beautiful.”

the way he says is in the most heartwarming, fluttering way. you knew some people don’t need many words to express the weight of their feelings, don't need verbal speeches but only the glint of their eyes to convey their feelings that they can't hide.

you believe seishu’s the supreme example of that.

he was in yet another heated bonten meeting, being engaged in the money transactions and having his mind filled with corporate ethics.

so when he comes back, you being in the washroom, he notices the pencils and erasers littered on the table- with a notebook he knew all too well open on the surface.

he goes near to see what you’d had up your sleeves this time, only to notice the significant cat eyes, lopsided smirk and his long hair with that unmistakable cut.

he thinks it’s fabulous. He’s like, oh look, it’s me.

there’s multiple drawings in one page, some even scratched out. but it’s all adorable; and it’s even more beautiful when he sees your figure beside him in various actions.

did you actually want to pull his cheeks this much?

when you come back, he’s totally like, “sell me these,” with a blank face.

you think it’s outrageous but end up chuckling instead, “why would you want to buy them?”

“because I like them, obviously.”

“no, I mean, why would you need to buy them?”

koko gets unbelievably confused at that, like if he wanted something, of course he’d need to deal himself into it.

“it’s not some commissioned art, you know,” you say, laughing at how baffled he was.

“look, you probably have your head jammed. freshen up then maybe I can sell you my entire notebook.”

“alright, that suffices.”

he almost leaves for the washroom and that sigh of relief almost escapes your lips- until his head peeks out of the door and he says, “or we could exchange equivalently.”

“hajime- what?”

“you give me the drawings, I do whatever you’ve drawn in them.”

not a bad deal really but he needed to get all this deal-shit out of his head or you didn’t know what you’d do with him.

“that includes you getting to shop with my black card.”

“deal.”

honestly, when he says it like this, you won’t want to give away your doodles for free anymore.

but when he's actually in his right mind, he'd probably tease you a little. saying stuff like, "who is that? is that mee?? do i really look like that???"

but likes them anyway.

i mean, he can't draw for life, so who's he to judge.

haha look who

[keimisan]

↪ dear cupid- k. baji

- in which you're stupidly in love but baji doesn't get it.

pairing: keisuke baji x fem!reader (could be gn but i used fem pronouns)

wc: 2,591

content/warning: you have an obvious crush on baji, but he doesn't believe you lol, a little bit comedy, FLUFF? FLUFF like finally some fluff, everyone just tortures that boy T.T

not very proud of this, so constructive criticism is accepted. author lady is desperate.

it was yet another morning of you wakening up to the thoughts him, beaming as you stretch your limbs and enthusiastically prepare for the planned day ahead. except it’s a little bit different, a lot lot more when you actually manage to snag baji from the stray cats of the street and get him to meet you alone, no chifuyu matsuno and no toman obstructing your privacy, and pull him into a secluded corner. no matter how courageous you were, how painfully apparent you were at conveying your affections- confessing was still hard. especially when it’s keisuke baji, a man with a head as thick as his impenetrable density.

“baji-kun, i-”

“baji-san, we have an emergency,”

you weren’t sure if you’d felt this emerging heat of rage and embarrassment rise up your cheeks any wilder before, but when your own friend, chifuyu matsuno, just ruined your best attempt at piercing through baji’s thick wall of impermeability- you were sure the killing intent was fiercer than ever before.

keisuke baji turns away faster than a cat could lure him, and strides towards the shorter blonde faster than your mind could comprehend. and in the heat of the moment, with the desperation of your long-planned confession, you end up blurting it in the most irresponsible way you could.

“are you fucking kidding me keisuke baji? i called you here to tell you i like you and you run away with who- chifuyu?!”

you knew by his solid reactions that he hadn’t believed you in the slightest, nor had he taken you with any less than a pinch of salt. he smiled that incredulous smile, the smile of disbelief and amusement coated in the same essence; generally, you swooned over the handsome curve of his lips, but not so when he, along with his stupidly luscious hair, waves you inconsequential yet again.

he simply utters, “uh- great,” and runs off while chifuyu stands there with wide eyes, promptly realizing that he’s about to receive nothing but harsh treatment and scornful grimaces from you for the next few days.

dear cupid,

please work on your aim. in fact, upgrade to something semi-automatic with laser light and night vision.

- sincerely, frustrated.

you have always played the cupid, the praised matchmaker; preferably, a damned snake. you have seen pairs of youngsters promising eternity with a chaste kiss, seen your own friends settle down with someone they looked at with large, floating heart eyes; exampling your own best friend. and you have seen countless guys, falling into your charms that you’d gained by mere experience but to no avail.

you have always played the cupid, yes. but who was going to play the cupid for you?

for the first time when you were assigned to be an exclusive accompanist for chifuyu and his middle-school gang’s much staid meeting, to be there as an advisor, your eyes were stuck on him, stuck on his caramel skin and equally enthralling black hair.

or maybe the melody of his heart that you wanted to call yours, who knew truly?

though you’ve never had to play self-cupid, you also did not thrive in the shadows and succumb to defeat; so you had went up to him several times, initiating a few conversations he waved you through, and excused himself as he had had “shit to handle” that was prominently important.

dammit keisuke baji, spare me some attention before you go pet those cats.

you were baffled, not because of his beauty; but because he challenged and provoked the most critical famine of the world, taunted the driest pitch of parched wells with how uninterested he was in you. much shame on your name, but the one and only boy you ever crushed on, never looked back at you. perhaps you were trying too hard, trying to occupy his eyes as he shut close his locker doors, trying to use chifuyu to pry onto his free times only to find out he discovered petting cats more important than appreciating your company; not to mention, you were also trying your best to drop the hints of a very subtle ‘i really like you dumbass!’

but baji keisuke is dense.

you were the only one struck and punctured by the cupid’s arrow, but that half-naked bastard really wasn’t diligent in his work because he must’ve forgotten that it worked both ways.

dear cupid,

next time hit us both.

- sincerely, damn frustrated.

however, you weren’t really unmotivated.

failure is as constant as success, it’s a life lesson, and nothing to be ashamed of. you inscribe these words from your last internet scrolling session into your brain, punch your fingers into a fist and build up a resolve as thick as baji’s density.

the next he knew, in order to attract him in your charms, you had somehow become the infamous casanova of the institution who all men and women swooned after. with your hair styled in a completely different way than your lackadaisical middle-part, your back in a straight line rather than the usual slouch of a broken spine, your eyes adhering to a natural look with mascara and blush rather than your morning unwashed face. he had to notice anything, even the most obvious of changes in you, or so you’d thought.

but,

“why are you following me,” keisuke says for the tenth time of the day, scowling as you flutter your eyes and muster the sweetest smile- yet traced with witticism- on your lips, garnering faux innocence as you reply with the same words for the tenth time of the day, “because i like you of course.”

the other day, you’d snatched baji as soon as the school bell rang, the boy being in a clear fright the moment he sees you as soon as he lifts his pair of dazzling golden eyes. chifuyu stands at the end of the door, in evident defeat due to his lack of punctuality, and enters into a gawking competition as your death stare renders him completely speechless.

“you ruined my confession, you snitch. let me have my alone time with my crush.”

baji himself was surprised at how his buddy for life stepped back, craning his neck to mutter a last goodbye and running off to who knew where.

keisuke baji never took your seriously, though you’d made it a fact at every chance you’d gotten. you’d been shameless with the countless times you told him you liked him, been rather proactive with how you sculpted your replies and looked him in the eyes, singing as saccharine-sweet as you can, “look at me, not the cat.”

everyone around you knew that you were, doubtlessly, fallen head over heels for the oddity of a touman captain- much courageously. except, obviously, the boy in question.

you were walking home after school today, mercifully letting chifuyu have his dosage of baji-san and deciding to walk alone instead of bothering them any longer. however, what was totally out of your hindsight was a few gang members trailing behind you, inciting a horrendous shiver to run up your spine. you tried to ignore them, initially, since your home wasn’t very far away due to the short route you were taking- except that it wasn’t possible to when one of them grabs your wrist, hauling you behind to face the rest of them, astonished.

it’s at these time you felt that walking with your crush was a form of safety more than anything else.

“you’ve been ignoring us, eh?” the man speaks, and you writhe your wrist in his taut grasp, straining against the clear power he had over you.

it’s at these times you wish you could call keisuke baji your boyfriend.

the other two smirks behind his shoulders, and you mentally, along with somatically, prepare your knees, gathering the most strength you could in the junction of bones as you raise it up- painfully near to knocking him and his reproduction organ towards impotency’s door.

“leave the girl alone.”

however, you don’t get to showcase that talent.

you pivot your head to look at the familiar voice, eyes widening as you take in the silhouette of keisuke, in his intimidating glory and undone hair. it surpasses every hope of whoever you wished to come for your rescue- because in no way could you have thought that someone to be him, someone who was clearly not interested in you. but he was here, in flesh and bones, hands tucked into the pocket as his canine teeth makes a perilous appearance under his grimacing lips.

the men before you step back in fear as whispers coat your surroundings, the one before you saying,“it’s the toman captain!” the other trips behind and scrambles off like a traitor, his voice audible in incomprehensible stutters. another mumbles a, “he lit a car on fire!” as he too, takes the route of his friend.

and in a flash, they were gone.

while you didn’t really need baji to frighten them off, you were sure to inscribe this memory into your fond memories.

you saunter towards him, feet skipping steps and face simpering. the very daunting baji keisuke, reeking with strength and superiority, still falters when you step a little too close to him; and his eyes hesitantly fall over to your giddy orbs, the fear of your unpredictable actions evident in him.

“oh my gosh, baji keisuke!” you cheer, clapping your hands together as a love-struck pretense takes over you, “i just fell for you even more.”

baji turns away, beginning to walk in the opposite direction, seemingly done with your playful coquetry, “stop joking y/n.”

“why would i joke? of course i like you.”

its like a bolt of thunder strikes the solemn ambience when he halts abruptly, his booted heels stuck to the road and face aghast as he looks ahead. it makes your smile fall from your lips, along with your hands that nervously twiddle with your own fingers behind your back, anticipating what the stoic golden-eyed individual would say next.

baji cranes his neck to catch you behind him, mouth hesitating before he gives in, “do you really….like me?”

your hands itch to shield a shy smile that tugs vigorously at your lips, but you bite the flesh instead, walking closer to the other, “i thought i was obvious enough, baji-kun.”

he still seems to be in severe disbelief, eyes scrunched as he scrutinizes your face for any evidence that you were joking. but you look at him with all the flirtatious insinuation secreted behind, lips in a fond smile that had him reconsidering his own assumptions.

“do you mean it? you’re really not just messing with me?”

“keisuke baji,” you hold his cheeks into your palms, pressing onto his skin with petite force, “i’ll say this for the nine hundred and seventy fourth time, i really like you. i like you so so much but you don’t pay me attention.”

for once, his eyes imitate that of a cow, brows shyly deviating in fluster as the tip of his ears take on a deep crimson- rendering him unable to move and unable to avoid the resolute intent glimmering behind your smiling eyes.

and you take the best opportunity, simpering, “go out with me?”

haters would say that he spoke with impassivity, or that he’s made the driest confession ever. but your testimony is far different. you’ve felt the sincerity through his arched eyes and seen the ulterior emotions in his few words. you’ve felt the gentle touch of his hands that held yours above his cheeks, felt the reluctant frisson of his lips, the flustered breaths of his nose.

“well i guess, you’re likeable.”

dear cupid,

i love you, you bastard.

but don’t worry it’s platonic.

- sincerely, happiest.

“guess what fuyu? guess what fuyu? fuyuuuu,” chifuyu aggressively heaves his arm in an attempt to get you, the synonym of an adhesive bug that spoke, off of him. but to no avail, since you only but cling onto him tighter, forcing your best friend to distance himself from his own arm.

“i’m dating keisuke baji! my gosh!”

chifuyu snaps his attention towards you, plain shock covering his lineaments as he blurts, “wait, h-he agreed? are you serious?”

you nod vigorously, stars of vigilance falling under the crease of your eyes and chifuyu remains purely astonished, his features refusing to hide the obvious and offensive shock he’s gotten from your news. his mouth agape and yours pulled into a far too joyous smile- you cannot but enunciate in happy words, “he didn’t turn me down!”

and then your hands are pried off of chifuyu’s limp arm by none other than your recently acquired lover- who untangles your fingers and swiftly pulls you to his side, causing a flitter of zoo to erupt in your stomach, “i guessed it wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to turn her down.”

chifuyu sneers at baji’s comment, and you click your tongue in amusement, “where was this thought when you burned that car?”

baji doesn’t snicker back, instead, his face contorts into one of embarrassment as his fingers scratch the back of his neck, willfully avoiding your gaze. chifuyu, on the other hand, straightens up- mouth still blatantly agape and eyes still symmetrically surprised, “this is my last day. my desires have been fulfilled, baji-san has become well-behaved. it is time,” he takes a dramatic pause, breathing in a heavy whiff of air along with a voluntary choke in the middle, “i take my farewell.”

to your surprise, baji ushers him out with a not so subtle, “get the fuck out.”

you watch as the latter pessimistically walks out, not forgetting to spare you both a look before he excuses himself outside the door. while the scene in itself is comical, you don’t miss to notice how this is the first time keisuke baji has chased out his buddy of life, that too, for you- something you’d never have thought would happen in your wildest dreams.

while the fondness coats your ears, you instincts move with involuntary nerves and before you realized it, your lips had already planted a chaste kiss on his cheeks. the bewilderment is clear in both your eyes, much more so for you when kissing him out of the blue totally wasn’t your intent.

however, you try to sneak yourself out from the discomfiture that only escalates with baji’s widened eyes, “thanks for umm, for chasing my rival out.”

baji snaps back into reality with your voice, stammering with fluster and emotions you knew he probably couldn’t explain. but he catches himself rather soon, clearing his throat as he says, “chifuyu is not your rival y/n.”

you snicker with mockery, “of course he is, you both were practically boyfriends. i cannot brush him off just because you chose me, old passion dies hard you see.”

“you’re the only one i like y/n.”

“you’re- oh,”

this time, you’re the one who’s flabbergasted with lips stuttering to form even a coherent word. as you turn away, the simplicity of a smile too much coated with lover’s fluster behind his back, and eyes crinkling with the flush that had your cheeks warming up- you speak, unbalanced as ever, “i mean, yeah, same i guess.”

and as baji’s hand slithers around your waist to guide you out, you swear you could never get used to it.

dear cupid,

i fucking love you. not more than him, but yeah. perhaps i’ll leave you money to upgrade your technology.

sincerely, fucking elated.

[keimisan]

Tokyo Revengers

Headcanons

when they see doodles of themselves in your notebook.

pairing(s): mikey, draken, mitsuya, chifuyu x gn!reader (self-insert)

Mikey was beside your desk waiting for you to return from the washroom so that you and he could go home together. But right then, he sees pages on your desk and thinks that perhaps you’d forgotten to pack them in your bags.

Wait, these aren’t school notes but drawings.

Squints his eyes and stares because it looks so familiar but he can’t quite put a finger on it. he’s literally just scrutinizing to figure out who on earth it could be, but it looks so familiar.

Then it clicks in when he sees a doodle with his close-to-heart cb250t, his touman jacket flying in the air. after that, he’s flat out observing all of the other doodles and matching himself with it.

Now that he realizes, he thinks it’s pretty accurate, too accurate how you’ve portrayed his frequent behaviors with a few arches of your pencil.

He notices how a lot of them portray him smiling, happy and having fun- and that you’ve drawn his eyes like a crescent in them, with little lashes invigorating from them beautifully.

He’s so drawn into it that he doesn’t notice when the notebook is snatched out from his hands, making him turn around to see the culprit.

He was about to throw hands until he saw it’s you, with a pout gracing your lips as you close your notebook shut.

“give it back baby,” he pleads, dragging his voice out like a kid in demand. now you’re both pouting and mikey’s the ultimate baby so it’s you who has to give up.

“alright, take it but don’t make fun of me,” you say, hesitantly handing your notebook back to him.

“how can i? it’s too accurate and too cute,” he says, and before you could have the preparation, mikey lands a brief kiss on your cheeks, completely freezing you up.

“next time, draw us both together.”

The next you know, mikey’s laminated all of those doodles and they are now prettily sitting on his desk at home. he claims that they’re his “motivation”

He might be a bit weird but you guessed you loved him anyway.

You were with hinata while touman was in a meeting, waiting with her in a room. You’d gone to bid her goodbye when draken came in and saw your infamous notebook sprawled open on the table.

And then he sees the chibi faces you’d scribbled on them.

Recognizes himself in a second because he believes he’s rather peculiar to have someone else like himself. It’s unmistakable when you’ve drawn that braid and his dragon tattoo in a miniature way in the miniature him.

Not to mention the patterned jacket that he always wears.

He thinks it’s too cute how you’ve made his head bigger than the rest of his body, and his eyes have this winged liner along his lids; and how his braided pigtail isn’t defying gravity.

observes the rest of the doodles very carefully.

He’s sure he’s never posed like any of the poses you’ve drawn him in, but your mind is as peculiar as his hairstyle so he doesn’t question it, though he does wonder if his braids really look this jumpy.

When you come back into the room and see him flipping the pages of your notebook, and you’re about to snatch it away from him, he tugs it back.

“It’s me, so it’s mine,” he says, trying his best to maintain an emotionless façade.

“I drew it, it’s mine,” you give it a little tug back, but not too much since you really adored your notebook and of course because it had a lot of your boyfriend’s chibi doodles.

“you drew me, so it’s mine.”

“how the-”

“copyright infringement,” and that’s when draken bursts out into a smile and pulls you into his chest, giving you a loose hug as he keeps the book on your table.

“they’re really small and adorable,” he laughs, pointing at the one that’d caught his eyes, “just like you.”

“I’m not small!”

“you bet you aren’t.”

It was a stay-at-home date and chifuyu was, as embarrassing as it is for him, late. Though grooming himself up is for you and for the date, but still, he knew he shouldn’t have gotten late.

You told him to go sit in your room and that you’d arrive with coffee and a few snacks- chifuyu almost thought you were mad by how plainly you’d told him that.

He somberly sits on the floor of your room, rather dejected thinking that he’d pissed you off. The notebook and pencils make way into his vision a little later, but his curiosity spikes up at its best.

He simply looks at them, the different poses and expressions, and wonders, ‘who is it’. it’s totally a boy, but who, who is it that you drew who was not him.

Then he flips up the page and notices more doodles scribbled on the parchment, colored. A deep red engrosses on his cheeks when he sees the blonde hair- undercut included, and his cyan eyes.

it’s him! you doodled him and not some other boy!

A little part of him is regretful that he’d been so late that you’d drawn a horde of his doodles and the other part of him is irrevocably happy and in love with you all over again because the drawings were out of his imaginations, too adorable.

And there was peke j too!

So when you come with two mugs of freshly brewed coffee, he tells you how cute they are, excitedly going, “kawaiiiii!”

You can’t be mad at him when he’s so happy, you can’t be mad at him at all!

“I know I was late but these are blessings,” he says, gleaming at the pages with a blush on his cheeks, “I can’t believe I’m dating someone as wonderful as you.”

And it’s your turn to turn beet red when he reads the scribbles at the top you'd written carelessly, saying, I love you. he gets shy for a few moments too but then whisperingly replies back anyway, “love you too.”

It’s a ton shit praise from him, some even shy when you tease him but it really shows how much he loves the doodles.

He’s not really a fan of tattoos at the moment but he knows he might just put one on his ankles or his wrist if he steals your notebook again.

It’s almost evening and mitsuya suddenly remembers that you’d said you’d wait for him in his club room- he can’t believe he almost forgot.

He’s rushing towards the classroom in brisk steps, but when he reaches the room, it's empty and there’s no one in there. A single light is turned on, so he thinks you’d left.

He’s just passing by and checking the room when he sees a notebook on his desk. he goes to close it but notices the abundance of doodles in the pages.

some of them were even colored with markers, the lilac hair and lavender eyes, it’s undoubtedly him. especially when he sees the sleeveless black jacket he always wears, and that crossed earring.

He smiles adoringly at it, and his eyes form crinkles when he sees the pinkish blush you’ve put on his cheeks, “adorable,” he says to himself.

But you’re right behind when he does. Though you end up smiling at his words, you still form a strictness in your tone and say, “takashi,”

He turns back immediately to your call. And then he pulls you by your shoulders and shoves the notebook in front of you, “it’s pretty,” he says, softly smiling at the papers.

“spend some more time with me then, maybe I won’t have to draw these to comfort myself,” you say and mitsuya looks at you In pretend-astonishment, “you missed me so you drew these?”

When you nod at him with a jutted lips, he swears he’s about to lose it all but he wraps his arms around you instead, “but I like them,”

You let out a chuckle, “there’s not a time I’m not missing you so these will keep coming, rest assured.”

he laughs as he kisses the top of your head, muttering "silly," as he does so.

Mitsuya really likes the little doodles you make of him, sometimes borrows your notebook and shows them to luna and mana.

Really appreciative of them and expresses it in short words like, “pretty” or “it’s amazing”, but you know he means those words with all his heart, so he doesn’t need to praise you too expressively.

you bet draken's one was inspired by tumblr +

[keimisan]

↪ not you- h. kokonoi

- in which kokonoi is too late

pairing: hajime kokonoi x fem!reader

wc: 3,544

parts: 3 + extra dialogues

warning(s): canon divergence, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to lovers, kokonoi was a little shit to you, would've liked to keep it no comfort but that's not the request so, but koko is better I guess.

requested

a/n: not my best, but i tried T.T

you've always been a little ousted every time you changed schools. you never knew how to converse or how to ask for help from the teachers, causing you to be unaided and destitute. while it was unpleasant, you'd slowly but surely learnt to be your own support, your own aid. you figured you didn't need to be dependent on the help you weren't getting, especially when you'd just moved schools.

that is until a boy named seishu sits beside you, and causes the greatest change that you'd never have predetermined.

it was like any other day in the library, silence and quiet lingering in the parchment scent of the benches. you keep on reading, the stack of similar books you'd collected obstructing your view from the front. while you do immerse yourself in the letters and highlights of the book, you also keep watch of the outside decor. and it astonishes you when you hear the sound of soft heels clicking against the floor and feel a presence sit beside you, rather close. it incites the hair on the back of your neck to rise, but you decide to focus on the topic at hand, the book. but you can't help how the elegant presence lures your attention away, sometimes stealing gazes at the other you’d seen to be blonde.

you're surprised with a shiver covering your body as the boy asks, "do you know what this means?"

the sudden question takes you off guard, but nonetheless you lean over to peek at his textbook, a light blubbing atop your head as you comprehend the gestures, "y-yes. it’s spelled like this, it means moon."

the blonde boy takes another look at the figures and words, "ah thanks," he replies

just then another presence makes its way into your vision, a boy much different than him- with dark hair and eyes as black as the night sky. he makes a beeline towards you, preferably the ethereal boy since you hadn't known each other.

"inupi!" he hollers excitedly, running up to sit in front of you both.

"hajime."

you guessed the black-haired boy was named hajime, and the one beside you was inupi, respectively. the newcomer doesn't even take a good look at you before turning his eyes, asking, "who's that?"

a placate smile makes its way onto inupi's lips, "a new friend. say hello,” he says.

friend, you think, a very extraneous word, much more foreign when it’d been months of you aiding your own company; ceasing all your expectations of a giddy experience of friendship.

however, best to say, your first impression to him wasn't the most ideal, nor did he find you eccentrically peculiar- because the next you knew, he had complimented your very quality that you'd made the least apparent, saying, "hello, i'm hajime kokonoi. you seem very nerdy."

nerdy, not the most relatable for you. while you did put your best into your studies, your outcome was rather mediocre. you were just another average student at the school, just another addition, just another girl.

"you don't say that to someone you've just met koko," the blonde boy defends, giving him a mean look on your behalf.

it made you smile unknowingly when koko, or so inupi uttered, pouted with disdain in his eyes; "my bad," he mumbles. and inupi gives him an affirmative nod, proceeding to take your help for his studies and proceeding to reprimand the other for his, by preference, discourteous behavior.

that's how you met inui seishu, your absolute best friend and hajime kokonoi, your absolute crush.

hajime kokonoi

the boy who was so obviously head over heels for akane inui that it left you admiring how far his affections can go. you quite understand him too; akane was such a beautiful woman, with shoulder-length blonde hair and kind, vivacious eyes. the way she spoke so elegantly could never be compared to your casual demeanor, the way she was so courteous with every move she made could never be compared to the stiff you, and how she managed to capture the entirety of kokonoi's heart could also never be compared to you, who'd accepted the cruel reality of your unrequited love.

you've had feelings for him. but you also knew he had akane.

though akane single-handedly enamored kokonoi into her sweet palm, you'd never been envious of her. she was one of the best people you'd ever met, and you were also rather attached to her as a younger sister. so you'd never have imagined the night, the cursed evening where the inui household was seared and destroyed by scalding fire. and not even in your wildest dreams would you have premonitioned her, akane, to be this heavily injured.

you cannot explain the terror you'd felt, the sheer vibrations of horror that reverberated through your chest and conveyed into heart-wrenching cries. you had engulfed seishu in a hug, your eyes never ceasing to let the tears fall. and the boy simply patted your back, holding you as if you were the one suffering the loss, and not him.

it stung at your heart how he pushed and locked the feelings of despair at his heart. but that was just him, he was never the one to show pain, never the one to cry.

and hajime, he'd gone crazy.

you'd known after a few days when the news of akane passing away rung harshly at your ears, that both inui and koko were devastated, as were you. seishu had just lost his only family, and koko'd lost his only love.

and you'd lost a dear sister.

after a few weeks, months, her memory wasn't there to haunt your every night. however, you knew when you saw koko, you knew when you saw seishu reviving a gang, that it was seishu's salvation and seishu was the only way koko could keep akane's residual intact with him.

seishu had been absent that day, much mysteriously since he’d not informed neither you or koko about it beforehand. you’d thought that perhaps he’d been sick, and with no one to take care of him, he’s probably shivering in his bed, hungry. it induces a sharp sting at your heart, and you conclude that you’d go to his home instead of yours. kokonoi tags along with you, sharing the same worry for your friend.

the sound of your soles clunking against the asphalt echoed through the air, hajime’s silent presence lingering beside you. you both walked in hush, not uttering a word, not saying anything. that’s until you feel a few droplets of coldness fall on your head, making your eyes blink in surprise, “koko, i think it’s raining,” you say.

“yeah.”

and before you knew it, rain was pouring down at its finest, hitting the ground with unforgiving, angry force. koko grasped at your waist and pulled you closer to him, his free hand sheltering your heads in a faint attempt of obstructing the rain as you both sprint in a run. a waiting area makes way into your vision and you usher koko to take a turn towards the roofed space, completely secluded.

by then you were both drenched, clothes sticking to your skin and hair framing in wet circles around your cheeks. the coldness of the rain incites a dreary frisson to cover your body in shivers, teeth chattering as you rub your forearms. the latter notices it immediately; koko takes off his coat and slings it upon you, pulling you into his chest as he caresses your back and arms in order to warm you up, "are you still cold? do you want me to hold you better?"

you didn’t know how to explain your heart that was jeopardizing rapidly amidst your chest, your heart that thrummed in a relentless rhythm with the propinquity that had your body warming up in fluster. in normal circumstances, you knew kokonoi wasn’t someone to hold another so dearly in his arms, if not akane, and obviously not you. he’d never even clapped hands with you, never even tried consoling you- you were just another girl, just another presence in his life he couldn’t care much about simply because you weren’t her; nothing more, nothing less.

then why was he caring for you like your coldness that’d not even initiate a fever mattered to him?

you shove a heavy stone over your heart, your lips stiffening up as you speak, "koko, don't do this."

kokonoi doesn’t budge, continuing to scour his palm up and down your back as he replies, tone nonchalant, "what do you mean?"

you gulp a knot down your throat, knowing well enough that the next words would thoroughly reveal the intentions of your heart, thoroughly expose you; and yet, you knew you had to, because if you didn’t you’d never be able to. your lips stutter for a moment, before you utter in low, firm words, "don't make me feel this way koko."

this time, his hands halt, his body distancing from you along with the warmth that left you paining, "y/n, i- , you're making it confusing."

"don't hold me, don't pull me close like you care about me more than you should. there's only space for her in your heart, you don't and will never see me as anything more than a friend. i know you care, you'll care if something happened to me. you're scared because you already lost someone else. but i know you'll never see me the way like you saw her, and you'll never .... you'll never return my feelings. i'm not her,"— with that, you release the knot of breath that’d clogged your nose, with the cracks that hazarded your throat, and the feelings you never thought you’d express.

kokonoi remains quiet, his eyes cast downward and face expressionless. you almost feel remorseful for how indifferent you’d suddenly caused him to be, but your doubts, your guilt and your hopes are ridden away, harshly, brutally nipping at your insides when he opens his mouth, eyes peering straight and unhesitant into yours.

"you're right."

you were right, he said.

"huh?"

"you're not akane, you're not nearly as great as her and you can never get to the same page as her. you shouldn't hope for something like this when you know that i'll never like you."

he says it like your feelings didn’t matter to him in the slightest, like the hurt that’d swamped you whole wasn’t anywhere near the subjects of his concerns- like you’d joked with him, a blatant and meaningless jest.

"fuck you kokonoi hajime."

after that, he never saw you again.

when inupi had seen him the next, his eyes impassive and empty, he’d apprised him about you. but kokonoi said nothing, did nothing but shrug his shoulders like he hadn’t cared the least about your absence. inupi dragged him by his wrists, turning him around as he murmured gruffly, “she came to me before she moved out, told me to never tell you but i know you care about her.”

kokonoi rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue, “you should’ve done like she said, because i for sure don’t care about her.”

what a lie!

he kept convincing himself that it was for the better, that he didn't feel anything when he saw your tear-stricken eyes, or the slight quiver of your chin. but only he knew the reluctance that miffed his fingertips with fire, the words that chanted in his head that he could never love anyone other than akane. endorsed by his ravaging thoughts and crisis, kokonoi said the words he’d never meant to voice.

— and he hurt you.

he never tried searching for you again, partly from the guilt of having returned you so derisively, and partly from the incessant self-convincing that he could never love again.

it had been years, years of him engraving the crestfallen memory of you in his mind. and now he’s detached from both you and inupi, being loyal to a criminal organization called bonten. what a switch of events! he wonders. how fast time had passed, how fast he had scorched all his connections and how fast he had rendered himself bereft. as he sits in his own office, being burdened by the thoughts of you, your fading smile and waning glint. he wonders how you were, if you were doing well or if you were even alive.

the remorse of losing another piece of his heart chains him tight, pressing cold and burning against his skin.

nonetheless, he keeps looking out the glass, watching the darkening sky ignite with a lightening cracking through the clouds. and then, the sky pours heavily over the roads, the same and indifferent way he’d seen it unleashing it’s rages- the same way it had poured when he’d last seen your dazzling silhouette.

a sudden force compels him to venture out into the rain, perhaps to clear his mind and reawaken the cruelty that’s supposed to reside in his heart- he doesn’t know. but he steps out of the bonten headquarters, the droplets of water already soaking into his tinted hair and the expensive fabric of his clothing.

the nostalgia of you hits him like bricks, stinging to his eyes and weighty above his heart. he thinks he’d gone crazy, completely maniacal because his eyes seem to have fabricated a shadow of you in the benches. you, who he’d not seen in forever; you, who he’d rejected. it’s absolutely impossible that fate would allow him the grace of meeting you in human form, but he's pleased with the silhouette his mind paints in front of him.

there he sees you, sat on one of the secluded benches, shivering with cold. it makes a smile coat his lips when he remembers how you’d always been cold, how you’d always have your teeth chattering with the slightest of temperature drop. he’s impressed at himself and his mind with how well his eyes sculpt your adult form to be, the perfect illusion, he thinks.

his feet unknowingly take him closer and closer, until he’s almost beside you, watching as your teeth clattered with your eyes closed, body crunched to secure as much warmth as you could- just like he’d remembered from the old days. smirking defiantly for the testaments fate cursed him with, he sits beside you.

it won’t hurt to talk to his own hallucination right?

thus be begins, forgone feelings grinding their way up to his chest as he speaks, "i can't believe i'm hallucinating. but i've got to say that i've missed you, y/n."

your eyes snap open when you hear the voice, matured and so poles apart than you’d remembered. but you knew with the gruff of his tone that he was, unmistakably, the love of your past. and you look to the side, seeing him outfitted in a red two-piece, his hair drastically different than it was before. even though he looked different, his miens seemed to have been enhanced by a fairy- so much unlike the black-haired boy of your memories. but his monolid and squinty eyes remained the same as ever, although stricken with drought and seclusion.

he leans back against the metal chairs, a calm smile playing on his lips, "i know you won't speak but how are you? i haven't been well at all. i've been thinking so much about you, it's surreal," he then entangles one of his hands into his hair, tugging at a few strands, "to think that i'd think about you after all this time. i mean look at the audacity after i turned you down like that, even comparing you to her. ah, i'm so stupid."

you watch as he closes his eyes, head tipped back, face tainted with the expressions of regret and pain. it confuses you, why would he think about you? you, who were insignificant and meager to him. he’s never given you two looks, never even looked back when you watched his back run into the abyss- so why now? why after so many years?

you take a deep breath, staring right at his pain-stricken profile, "you're right."

his eyes burst open in alarm as his expression contorts into one of horror. then he alarmingly turns his head towards you; and his eyes run over your drenched figure, your unwavering eyes gazing directly into his obscure ones, your way longer hair that cemented onto your skin, your tinted lips that were nothing like he remembered- just you.

he can’t believe this.

"good to see you after such a long time, hajime kokonoi."

you don’t really see it with the moist lingering among you, but his eyes gloss with unfallen water just as yours do- but it’s him who is wavering, him who’s lips quiver with shock, him who’s pupils dilate with disbelief. kokonoi sits up immediately, "h-how are you real? no, i mean, are you cold? you must be!" he says as he stands up, hastily taking off his coat. he then swings it over your shoulders, adjusting your sides to engulf you snugly into its remaining warmth, simultaneously rubbing your sides to generate heat.

"i told you not to do this all those years back too you know. you never listen." you chuckle through heavy lips, but don’t stop him as his strokes become slower- you’d surmised his hands would fall anyway, if nothing’s changed. "stop caring, koko, i'm not her. i've been alive without you looking after me all these years, you know."

but they don’t fall. instead, his eyes turn into black stones, brows scrunched, "you're not akane, i know. she- she's dead. you'll never be her."

but he’s the same as ever.

you can’t really escape the hurt, the same sting, the same disappointment. it’s as if it’s a repeating cycle, an endless loop that you can’t escape from. a forbidding slap of reality that you’d never be accepted, even after all these years, that you’d never be someone he’d want.

sheer impetuous forces you to slap his hand away, and shrug his coat off of you as you stand up, "you don't need to tell a girl twice, k-kokonoi."

the man takes note of the stumbling crack in your voice, and your cluttering resolve that’s as translucent as ever- but he can’t let you go, not now. he feels his hand itch and move by itself when your feet collide against the ground and form into steps, leaving him alone, tearing him apart.

his fingers wrap around your wrist in impulse, desperation tugging at the side of his lips as he yells, "but you're you. you're not her and i'm glad that you'll never be. she's a past that i cherish, but i can't keep on ignoring the present for her. my present is you, though i don't know if i have the right to say this."

you stand there, unmoving.

"in the present, i like you, no, i love you. it took me so long to realise but,” he pauses, his grip on you falling tender, “i guess your absence all these years knocked it pretty hard into my head."

you don’t look back, you don’t falter either; but a tear runs down your cheeks in utter secrecy, lips hesitating before you say, "what if i don't like you anymore koko?"

"that's fine, really! just don't," he’s instant with his reply, yet, his voice drops an octave into a soft whisper, "leave me by myself."

you guessed you were not akane, you’d never be. but you were your significant personality, you were your own. and yet, you couldn’t believe that the man you’d loved throughout ups and downs and shifts and bents was accepting you for who you were; was confessing to you that your feelings weren’t unrequited, that he was in love with you too.

you wondered who punched the reality into his thick and bleached head.

you twirl behind and slither your hands around his neck, head falling onto his cold shoulder, “i won’t.”

you feel him slowly but surely return the act of intimacy, his fingers hovering above the curve of your waist. he gulps, as a bile of unsure emotions trickled at his throat- and then he fully embraces you back. head nuzzled into your neck and arms vowing never to let you go, “thank you.”

“thank you for not turning me down, thank you for coming back.”

he lets his eyes fall close.

“thank you for not being akane.”

seconds and minutes pass by, with the both of you standing under the shed, away from the rain that had already lessened. your body doesn’t chatter with the nipping chill anymore as he holds you tighter, this time, with the surety and affected you’d always desired. he’s warm, even more so when he breaths out on your nape, the hot air brushing against your skin.

your unrequited love is yours, kissing and blowing your tears away, whispering in your ear that he’s here for you, and that you’re not her.

not her.

+ dialogue

"how are you then? would you like to get coffee?"

"this drenched?"

"well, tomorrow? treat me to a date, you look rich."

"i am rich, true. all those skills paid off."

“i am reconsidering this. i say you give me your credit card for a day, then i’ll agree to the date.”

do leave a feedback if you'd like! likes and reblogs are much appreciated - keimisan

[keimisan]

↪ complexities of loving your friend - ch. matsuno

- in which chifuyu can't sort his feelings out despite being a shoujo fan.

pairing: chifuyu x fem!reader

wc: 3108

a/n: finally we have the f2l here, like finally. a fic of our oblivious boi hopelessly falling in love and not being able to realize it. huge thanks to @mqnjiro for inciting this fic and helping me with some planning T.T

tagging: @mqtsuno @hanniejji (BAE I DIDNT FORGET YOU SEE) @sxlver-sweet @isuuki + taglist form on my navi if you want to be added in the future

“chifuyu?” your voice interrupts his percolating thoughts, eyes eagerly peering up at him. your fingers grasp onto the fabric of his shirt as you drag him across the classroom, to the desk you occupied- and chifuyu stares, a grating itch squabbling at his chest, way more prominent than what he could suppress. but he doesn’t stop you as you vigorously run over to your notebooks, stuffing them into your backpack in delirium.

chifuyu stares at the sparkles and hues of your eyes as you hurry yourself, the subtle delight that never ceases to leave your lineaments- he’s sure the way you’re so excited has your fingers tingling, your head thronged with escapades or perhaps your nerves leaping with the anticipation of walking home yet again. he knows you so well, he was your friend after all, and yet, he didn’t know the compelling force that had his heart stinging with your happiness.

how can he feel happy yet so so anxious at the same time?

“let’s go, fuyu-”

“ah, i just,” he scratches the back of his neck with a hasty hesitance, “remembered that i had some work to do, you can go home alone.”

his ache intensifies with the frown that covets your lips at his words- and oh divinity, chifuyu regrets every separate word he uttered when you provide him no answer, your conduct rather sullen. he then watches as your eyes light up yet again, your world a little brighter as you say, “take me with you, i’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem right?”

and chifuyu mercilessly drops a hefty stone above your hopes, voice rather stoic and coarse as he replies, “i can’t y/n. don’t bother me like that.”

chifuyu feels like he’s just slipped expeditiously from a mountain, from a tall height and the peak of a waterfall- crudely falling and dwindling till the stones and bricks punch him like thick needles at his guts. It’s excruciating, and yet he doesn’t budge when your hands fall in somber submission, your voice mumbling a little okay that’s barely audible, and your previously conspicuous enthusiasm tearing apart along with the ache that simply deepens in his chest.

he doesn’t understand it at all.

so he walks away and takes a different route back home, leaving you alone in the hollow classroom that was once filled with your own gusto.

chifuyu knew the boundaries that existed, unspoken of yet resolute with every passing moment. a form of solitary bivouac, a thick sheen of wall separating partitions of his feelings that can’t help but merge together, and a strong chain of metals and graphite manacling him back- it’s all within the boundary that he supposed was your safety, was your comfort and your contour that he should never cross. but to him, it felt like nothing but an estrangement.

he knew it so well, and yet he couldn’t sense himself falling into the abysmal well of your laughter- he couldn’t realize how deep he was swooning into your sunlight.

it all started the day his finger effortlessly slipped from the pinpoint of his feelings, and then everything else turned into a muddled mess.

“y/n, i’m here—”

chifuyu halts, eyes dropping over your sleeping silhouette; your head nestled snugly into your folded arms. he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up, not when you’ve discovered utter comfort in a position that is sure to leave cramps upon your neck. he simply watches, his gaze consistent with how shamelessly he’s perceiving the crease and crevices of your face that he’d never noticed before. sometimes, he felt unsettled because of how mesmerizing he found you to be- since when were you this attractive to him?

and sometimes, as he stared at your relaxed figure, he felt a fervent desire to caress your cheeks with his thumb, to run his calloused hands through your hair, to place his lips on your forehead where the shadow of your strands fell.

his hands extend under pure unconsciousness, and he promptly surprises himself when he finds his fingers faintly stroking the top of your head. his hands stiffen in their respective position as you slur in your sleep, your eyes heavy lidded yet leisurely awakening.

“chifuyu?”

and then you awake, the smile on your face more apparent and sprightlier. chifuyu feels his heart skip a quiescent beat when your eyes crinkle with morning light, “you fell asleep huh?”

“it was getting boring,” you muse, and a deep curve of your lips makes the world stop around you, a smile that enunciates a million butterflies in a split second.

and a precious dip around the edges of your lips crinkles and makes him question the functionality of his soul.

“come on, let’s go home.”

as you tuck your hair behind your ears and exhale a yawn, chifuyu again feels the disturbing flitter of uncertainty he could never pinpoint, could never know.

it’s nothing but an itch, a weird scratch at his heart, how could he possibly know?

“chifuyu!”

chifuyu turns his head at the beaming voice, noticing your jumping silhouette at the main entrance of the campus, undoubtedly merry. however, his stature remains impassive as you saunter your way towards him, in a complete contrast to your bubbly morning mood. chifuyu himself doesn’t know how he’s stubbornly suppressed the urge of embracing you in his arms, or pressing a kiss to your exorbitant cheeks, or simply hear the sonorous giggle that slipped past you lips at the most random times.

but again, the notions of such actions kicked at the wall of boundaries he knew he can’t cross.

“let’s go to class together!” you exclaim, painfully close to engulfing his hands into yours and sprint away. but chifuyu steps away before you could, face clad in indifference as he declines, “we have different classrooms, y/n.”

he sees your smile fall for a second before you pick it up in an instant, your hands reclining to grab the straps of your backpack- instead of his fingers, “you’re my friend, i’ll walk you. come on,”

you’re my friend.

for some reasons unbeknownst to chifuyu matsuno, his mood sours up despite the sweetness of your smile enclasping him in an envelope, despite your refreshing gaze that awaits his assertion- despite you being completely okay with how unpredictable he was being. and chifuyu feels even more unsure with how his heart wrenches, or how irritation again nags at his stomach due to the same, undiscovered uncertainty. “you don’t need to,”he says, before he walks away into the building, leaving you alone within the hollow crowd yet again.

perhaps he was of age, at the brink of impending puberty, or whatever they called it. maybe it was why he was suffering through imbalanced emotions, doing things he’d never expect himself to and thinking too comprehensively about the you he usually didn’t. maybe it’s not just you who made the difference, maybe he would feel the same with other girls as well- or so he thought.

“ah, chifuyu matsuno, what is it?” his classmate from whom he’d excused a little bit of time asked, perplexed at the boy’s untimely call.

“will you go out with me?”

she stares at him like a deer caught in headlights, brows furrowed as she takes an unsure step, “that’s so sudden, do you even like me?”

chifuyu didn’t know. despite the humongous amount of manga’s he’d read, he genuinely didn’t know. and yet he dives under his life-saving façade, replying, “i do.”

the girl stares at him in disbelief, and chifuyu stands there in utter triviality, his eyes boring none of the emotions you could ignite ever so effortlessly. she heaves a sigh, “well, i’ll have to refuse.”

she then takes a step as she engulfs him in a loose hug, hands smoothing over the pad of his shoulder. chifuyu didn’t know for what she felt the need to provide him consolation, but he felt nothing with another’s arms wrapped around him, felt none of the sterling flutters and accelerating beats that he felt with you- none of it all.

“so you don’t know who you like huh?” she asks as she pulls away, and chifuyu stares dumbfounded, “well i hope you will soon enough.”

and then she’s gone. like an everyday presence that did not make much difference in his everday life, like an inconsequential company that didn’t have his attention at blank point- absolutely unlike the you who had him at a word’s notice, had him beaming and his heart skipping in enthrallment.

your company was soft colors of nature, pastel and greens; sometimes yellows and sometimes a vibrant apricot; or the delicate browns and the sky that deepened to show him the stars. it felt like an earthiness that lasts a lifetime, sempiternal and extremely, seductively beguiling. and sometimes the soft colors smeared upon the brief conversations, lousy acts and recess under the sky that matched allies with you.

what was this feeling?

he feels rather unpleasant when he can’t pinpoint the surge of life that elates him with every thought of you. he was your friend, someone you could rely on- then why on earth was he being such a dick? why couldn't he look into your mesmerizing eyes and let you entwine your dainty fingers within his? why couldn't he match the pace of his tennis shoes and accompany you home as you babble out the stress of the day? it's all what friends do, then why couldn't he?

you’re my friend, you’re my friend, you’re my friend.

“but i don’t want to be.”– friends didn't look at friends that way.

chifuyu sits on his window sill, eyes widened with surprise when he finds himself providing an answer to the question that’d been haunting him for months. his palm covers his lips, a batch of welcoming warmth canopying him in a tight blanket of solemn realization as he says yet again,

“i don’t want to be your friend.”

chifuyu hadn’t the heart to face you after he had perturbed through the invisible barrier of friendship- and so, he had adhered to avoiding you at all cost. skipping through walking you home, gossiping about the outrageous dramas, or simply, laughing as you walked side by side.

he should’ve known how unsettled you must’ve felt due to that, but he procured that to be his way of protecting you. from him? much regrettably, yes.

“chifuyu!”

chifuyu hears you yell through the corridors, having spotted his familiar tuft of blonde hair among the grave silence. his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, eyes squeezing shut as he muttered a low ‘shit’.

“i found you!” your voice is as enthusiastic as ever, the same avid hue and the same sparkling elegance. and you completely overlook the fact that he had been out of contact, “can we-”

chifuyu doesn’t turn around, only pivoting his head to peek at you in the briefest way, his mouth anxious as he replies, “i’m sorry i have cram school today, so i can’t.” — and you hadn’t even finished your sentence.

you take a few silent steps, scared that if you walked fast he’d slip away, vanish into the abyss like he had the past couple of days, “you don’t read in a cram school.”

“well i enrolled a few days ago-”

chifuyu is cut off when you heave his wrist with ample strength, forcing him to turn around to look at your glistening eyes that engraved regret pooling at the depth of his stomach, “don’t lie.”

he knew he couldn’t lie to you, he knew you could always tell him apart and yet, he tries his last attempt as he shakes his head in denial, “how would you know-”

“fuyu,” you begin, sheer gloss coating your eyes, “why are you avoiding me?”

your inquiry catches him off guard, and his mouth flutters like the wings of a bee, rendered wordless. as much as he’d like to deny, he wasavoiding you, there’s no other explanation. but that’s all because of the impenetrable wall that obstructed him from you; and there’s no way he could tell you that.

“did i do something wrong?”

he notices a substantial hurt shelter your face, sees as you try your hardest to shove the melancholy under your pulled up sleeves. and then he watches you hesitate with your fingers that drop from his wrist, your lips stuttering as you ask,

“chifuyu, do you hate me?”

no, not at all.

chifuyu loves every inch of you- the fading sunset behind your eyes, that moonlight that dances through your hair, the sadness nestled in the creases of your palm. there was no way he could hate you when the only thing you’d done is carry a lantern, with burning and flickering fire that had been his sentiment, fueled by the little gestures of affection you showed that had held warm every now and then.

“i’m really sorry if i offended you, chifuyu. it’s fine if you’d like to take some time off if you….dislike me now and it’s—”

“fuck no,” it’s completely involuntary as the words roll off his tongue, and he doesn’t even realize when he says fuck it to his omnipresent, theatrical conscience and lets his impulse take over, lets the innumerable thoughts of his mind spill out in batches of coherent words, “i like you, okay? i like you so damn much that i have no idea what’s happening to me. i like all of you, not just the parts that make sense, not just the parts you’ve shown me. i love the parts that i don’t yet understand, the parts that weigh on your shoulders, the parts i notice only when i steal glances at you in silence. there’s no way i can hate you, y/n, no fucking way.”

right when he’s done with his little rant, the sky breaks upon with the realization that the love was unrequited, because you see him as nothing more than a friend, an ally, a comfort. and he’s just ruined it all for you, ruined the friendship he treasured so much.

“— shit, i’m sorry. forget it, i just ruined everything didn’t i?” chifuyu scorns at himself, knotting his fingers into his dyed hair as he abruptly turns on his heels, opting to walk away on his embarrassment.

“chifuyu, you didn’t ruin anything,”

the said boy stiffens up as you slither your arms around his neck, softly planting your chin on his shoulder, “mister shoujo manga didn’t know how to confess properly after all. what made you think i won’t reciprocate?”

chifuyu appears to be frozen, stunned when you utter those words spoken with admirable formality- and with a cadency of unequaled honesty. he is even more stunned when you swivel in front of him, touch impeccably soft as you gather his cheeks into your hands, enabling his lips to form a scant pout.

“dummy,” you whisper; and then he feels a gentle peck on his lips, succinct yet abysmal in ways he’d never have surmised. your lips brush his, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings and the smoothest flower petals; just long enough that he could inhale your breath, feel your warmth and the taste of the small intimacy that lingered far after you’d reclined.

maybe he was hallucinating in broad daylight, like a madman caught in inexplicable passion. in a trance like the fog of stark winter; in an other-worldly imagination cloaked with ocean waves. because there’s no way that the next second transpires with your arms around his neck, and your supple lips on his yet again, except in motion with the same craving as his and a hundred, thousand words conveyed with a mere movement.

and when you pull him in by the neck and kiss him deeper— he forgets how to breathe.

after seconds he’s lost count of, he feels you slowly separate, leaving his lips colder than ever before. you smile the brightest smile he’s ever seen you wear, playful as you confess, “well, i like you too, fuyu.”

chifuyu stares back with an abundance of crimson nipping at his cheeks obdurately, mouth sealed shut and speechless. he can’t even hide the fluster with how your eyes see through him like an open book, and he can’t help but grow even more shy when you chuckle, the sound hitting his ears like a refreshing reminiscence, “you didn’t need to avoid me like that, i was hurt you know. i thought you got tired of me or something,”

he stands back the moment your hands slide down his shoulders, “i’m,” he pauses, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “i’m sorry for that.”

you pretend to contemplate for a moment, and chifuyu’s abdomen crawls with apprehension. but then you smile with the same cheery mien, “i guess i’ll forgive you.”

oh how chifuyu missed this!

he then clasps your hand in his, giving it a tender squeeze as he begins to trod upon the tiled floor, softly smiling, “thank you, gorgeous.”

chifuyu is quicker than he’s ever been the moment you pucker your lips in a pout, gently pressing a chaste kiss on the reddened flesh of your lips. and despite you oh-so-courageously kissing the life out of your best friend, he still feels you flinch when he stuffs your entwined hands into his pocket, along with a stutter that initiates your apparent fluster, “w-who said you can do that so suddenly?”

chifuyu chuckles, “you can’t just pout and expect me not to kiss you.”

you look to the other side with a convivial warmth pressing taut against your face, “i’ll miss the days where i could pout freely.”

“you don’t like it?”

chifuyu sees you mirroring a semi-permanent simper, your cheeks delighted and emphasizing the obvious lift that you couldn’t hold back.

“oh, this is definitely better.”

as you both slowly walk towards the much familiar way back home, savoring the moment of a truncate bliss that would linger far into the day, talking about things how friends would- except you weren’t friends anymore, nor was there the impeding and bothersome barricade of restricted feelings.

perhaps, chifuyu needed to believe them, believe that fairytales were not written for princesses with glass slippers, not written for spells that transformed you into a frog. they were written for hopeless romantics like him who’d never believed in their own happy ending, never trusted in the miracles of fate. most of all, he needed to believe that they were written for him.

yet he still can’t believe it when he sees your lightening face the other morning.

none of his shoujo manga’s prepared him for this.

likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! thanks for reading :)

[keimisan]

↪ absolutely smitten- r. haitani

pairing: ran haitani x fem!reader

wc: 1166

hey mal bby again congrats on 1k im so proud of you <3 can i please request fluff + "you're absolutely smitten, you'll never let her go" - absolutely smitten by dodie, you can choose whatever character you think would fit this well or whoever you feel like writing !! 

a/n: hewwo, thank you so much. here you go. It turned a lil long wjdwndns. also umm, a little ooc-ish? and deteriorated writing ofc

ran haitani did so many things but never on the spite of feelings. he believed that through head could the wisest decisions arise, not any other way- since his two eyes had witnessed time and time again the foolishness of clouded judgement and heart's wishes. if it's ran haitani, there's no way he'll act on his heart.

if it's ran haitani, there's no way he'll love.

"hey, ran! pass me the bottle."

ran remembers the date rather clearly when he first met you, a presence with the ability to shake his heart with one look, one wink and one smile. he remembers the autumn breeze a few days later that procured a few thin leaves to fly past your head, and he remembers your reluctant voice when you asked him if he was the guy in the posters- with no fear.

maybe he was a bit too playful, or maybe his flirtatious instincts swerved towards you a bit too much- he doesnt realise. but when you didn't meekly smile at his flattery, and didn't tuck that shy hair behind your ears, he was utterly determined to make you fall in love with him. he thought it was his stubbornness to prove to himself that he's devilishly attractive or that his charm is impossible to neglect. but he never knew if his thoughts were as correct as the surety of his heart.

"ran haitani?! are you deaf?"

but it was just his sentiments screaming at himself to win your stone heart.

"OI HAITANI! THERE'S BOOGER ON YOUR HEAD."

"eh? what, where, wait- booger?!" ran jumps up from his seat, curiously looking at the pink-haired male for some sort of confirmation that his preciously styled hair did have trash on it. however, the latter looks at him with bored eyes, snapping his fingers as he says, "where was your head at,"

ran's smugness falters a little at sanzu's humble accusation, but he picks his fluttering mind up and straightens his tie, "i was thinking if i...left my kitchen stove turned on."

"you don't cook," rindou grimaces from the other side of the room, only to receive a rather dirty look from his older sibling.

"i was boiling water okay? my throat was sore. now shut up."

kokonoi chimes right into it, flapping a burgundy envelope in the air as he motions it towards the older haitani, "i have no idea who the fuck sends a letter in these days, but i think your girlfriend is coming in a few."

"first, she's not my girlfriend. second, why would you open my letter."

"I thought it's some super secret organization deal or something. because one sane human won't send analog letters written on actual paper."

"shut up."

ran gently opens the folded piece of parchment, his eyes scanning upon your tiny writing; and in small words, it read, "3 p.m, i'll come to your office for my studs."

it's safe to say that ran almost forgot about your earrings that he had professionally snitched at your last meet, just so he could get you to meet him again. he thought you wouldn’t really care, but at least he could bother you with a fake sense of responsibility that he couldn't keep someone else's stuff in his pockets. but you seemed keen to get them back, even asking him voluntarily if you could come to fetch them. and there's no way ran could say no.

"i can't believe you stole her earrings. are you that interested?" koko chagrins, sitting down on his assigned chair as he twirls his necklace.

"I'm not interested, you dimwit," it's almost a growl on ran's stead as he replies, but it turns into a hushed whisper when he fiddles with the thin paper, "i'm just playing. I'll let her go after i get tired obviously."

but something in him told him, nagged him that he was so wrong about himself.

ran haitani never allowed his heart to snag second chances, second glances or the second minute of attraction. he never relied upon the organ that was only ever good at pumping blood. it was only the mind for him, thinking and deduction and letting it all go.

"you're absolutely smitten, you'll never let her go."

kokonoi's words irked him just as much as they pricked the thick shell around the canopy of his heart. he was wrong, wasn't he? kokonoi of all people couldn't possibly know what was in his heart when he himself didn't.

"no way— "

a twist of knobs and, "sir, we have someone asking for— "

it takes ran less than a second to saunter out the door, frantic feet taking in a speed of apprehension as he dreads your safety among the dangerous security men. it was foolish of him to have delayed informing them about you, since one wrong reply from you could get you killed before he arrives.

he swore that if they harm a hair on your head, he'd kill them all.

soon enough ran enters the top-corner room, his eyes laying upon two bulky guards straining you by both your arms. and he sees you, brows scrunched with your eyes cast downward, tresses of hair falling upon your forehead- and he feels his locketed heart skip a prominent beat.

ran motions for the guards to leave with one angry wave, fury glistening through his eyes as he ensures every single one of them out the door. then he takes in your figure that plops down on the sofa right after, throat emanating a stuttering chuckle, "it wasn't very, um, welcoming."

ran inwardly thanks himself for making it in time. at least you weren't harmed, at least you were safe.

he kneels down before you, taking your trembling fingers into his hands, pressing a soft squeeze to offer a little bit of calm he doubted he could. ran looks into your eyes that feign indifference and strength in them, but he knows that you're just as scared as you appear strong, "i think i don't have them. you'll have to come again."

the stud earrings, of course. you had almost forgotten your main purpose of visiting a gang headquarters. your earrings, he had them and you had come to fetch them- you remember.

it gives you a hefty amount of joy when you register that you'd have to meet again, along with the warmth of his hands that entangle tightly with yours, "at a cafe please. this place is so scary."

a cafe sounded like just the most perfect couple's place to ran. not to mention he'd been in one far too many times, courting women he wasn't at all serious about. but a cafe with you, your beige sweater paws and emerald earrings induce a different ambiance to him.

to him, it feels like an indirect confession. but of course, you of all people would not be willing to give him a chance. or, just maybe, maybe a round table and two glasses of caffeine could let your hard exterior soften just a little.

and maybe his too.

"i-yeah, yeah sure. my pleasure."

ran haitani and a date? surely not

[keimisan]

↪ perfection in your flaws - t.mitsuya

words: 7,822

descript: you're the sole guardian of your twin younger brothers, and you just recently moved to a cheaper apartment, where you meet the kind neighbor, mitsuya takashi. and through your ups and downs, through your hardships and happiness, through the time you spend with him, his sisters and your brothers- mitsuya comes to love it all.

warning(s): fluff? fluff. second pov, female reader, set when you and mitsuya are both seventeen but toman exists, angst with happy ending.

I tried a different format this time, with no capitals T.T for @lila-skies, don't know if i did this plot justice, but thank you for letting me write it, it was wonderful.

p.s: you can't tell me mitsuya doesn't call mana baby.

takashi mitsuya is an excellent brother, luna and mana knew so, everyone around him knew so. but when it comes to the brother in question, mitsuya has never been very confident. he’s always trying his best, but there’s still a lingering feeling of, what if he's not providing them enough, what if he's not the best I can be, what if they feel obligated to limit their desire just because they were poor, what if they’re unhappy- so many what if’s and so many questions that were inescapable.

“taka taka!”

mitsuya’s attention shifts towards his young sister from the patch of wool he was sewing, palpably noticing the tears that smeared her cheeks and her rosy, swollen nose as she waddles towards him. he immediately gets up from his seat, rushing to his sister as he kneels down, “what happened, mana?”

“thaw boy hwurt me!” mana exclaims, a wave of unstoppable tears raining down her reddish eyes.

“where are you hurt baby?”

“thwere,” mana mumbles, pointing to her right knee- a little reddish scratch blemishing her skin. mitsuya gently wipes her tears away with the pad of his thumb, one of his hands sliding down to tenderly pat her slouched shoulders.

“it’s alright, it’ll be fine once I patch it up.”

he slides his hands under mana's arms, lifting her to sit on his bed as he fetches the medical kit reserved for his little sisters. mana’s hiccups are the only sound he hears when he softly caresses the slight scratch with a pinch of ointment, making sure that he’s never pressing too hard. then he brings up mana’s favorite plaster strip- an animated cat with a copperplate kawaii written under it. mana’s pout brightens up at the sight of the cat’s doodle, and mitsuya carefully swipes it on the joint of her knee.

“there you go, better?”

mitsuya smiles when his sibling nods her head vigorously, her dinky hair-buns bopping along with her- as if the scratch was never there in the first place.

“taka will go and see who hurt mana, will you come with me?”

mitsuya takes her tiny hands into his, ushering her to lead the way as he stands up. he walks along with mana in slow steps until they reach the staircase that lead to the ground floor; and mana jumps down the stairs, dragging him by the arm as she occasionally exudes light sniffles. he supposes it was the new neighbor’s kid who’d recently moved downstairs- since mana’s never been this upset throughout the years they’d lived here; in fact, she’s gotten along with the neighbors quite well.

It’s the second door to the ground floor where the new residents moved in- quite obvious with the cartoon boxes laying around in front of the door, messily. the door’s open, he notices; and a little boy, around the same height as mana sat on one of the many boxes.

“is it him?” mitsuya asks, earning a brief nod from mana- who’d already hid herself behind his legs. he walks over to the young boy with mana trailing behind, walking through the thin space the boxes provided.

“hello, little guy,” mitsuya greets; and the boy, with short brown hair and shimmering hazel eyes, instantly looks up. his eyes shift to mana behind the older's legs and mitsuya can already say that he’d been terribly apologetic as he hurridly jumps down the cardboard, uttering a faint, “h-hello,”

“my sister says she's upset at you, is that true mister?” mitsuya’s voice is cool despite the fright that glosses the latter’s eyes and he almost feels bad for confronting the preschooler because of how courteously he bows down in a formal apology.

“I’m really sorry-”

“haru, I told you not to play around here,” comes a feminine voice through the door. mitsuya looks up, and his eyes land on you; your features are starkly similar to the young boy but not your messy appearance, with your clothes in a mess of dust and a plastic medic box in your hands. you must be his mother, he thinks, or his guardian.

but you looked too young.

your eyes meet with his when you notice another presence, and then fall down to see a young girl shrouding behind his legs, firmly gripping onto his pants with watery, twinkling eyes. a crease forms on your eyebrows as you match the girl with the voluntary testimony your brother had given you earlier, concluding that, “ah, you must be the little girl’s guardian,” you say.

“uh, yes, my sister told me that--”

“I’m extremely sorry for the trouble my brother has caused. there’s just so many boxes that he ended up losing his balance, it’s my fault too,” you say, directly cutting him off with a slight bow- but not as profound as your brother.

ah, so this is what happened.

It matched up too, the little boy looked nowhere near as harmful as mana made him out to be- instead, he appeared quite meek and humble. however, mana wasn’t happy with the boy’s proven innocence.

“taka, he pwushed me,” mana mumbles from behind his feet, pointing at her accidental offender.

“it was a mistake!” the boy exclaims back, “I apologize, mister,” he dips into an apologetic bow, yet again, and mitsuya notices a similar scratch mark on his left knee, partly curtained by his palm that covered it.

“he told me about it the moment your sister ran off, he accidentally tripped and ended up pushing her,” you join your brother with another bow and like any other responsible older sibling, you repeat his apology as your own, “I’m extremely sorry for the inconvenience.”

“it’s alright, please get up,” mitsuya is shaken at the extent of your modesty, going as far as to stand low for a mistake your brother had committed; but the lingering question was still apparent like headlights in the precinct of his mind- were you his only guardian then?

when you and your brother stand straight, he notices the ambiguous yet distinct similarities you both sported, especially with both your hands folded courtly at front. It didn’t look like you’d had more elders in your place, since you appeared to be handling the work of one house on your own- but, you were still too young to be taking care of a boy, someone of such a premature age.

“ane-ne!”

mitsuya is even more baffled when another small figure exits the door- that too, a kid who looked exactly like the boy he was facing. the same height, the same satiny brown hair, the same alluring hazel eyes and the same, indifferent humility painting his voice.

you look behind when you notice the voice, and you immediately look to be internally sweating when the other appears immensely worried. a gasp leaves your mouth and you almost trip out of your apron as you exclaim in cognisance, “I left the water boiling!”

mitsuya is sure he feels your concern on a spiritual level.

“fu--, no no, I can’t curse,” you stutter as you say so, heavily concerned, but mitsuya can’t keep the little smile that demands itself on his face because of your dilemma he finds all too relatable. “I’m sorry sir, but I gotta leave.”

he watches as your busy form hurries into the house, in a visible panic. the little boy however, stands there, dumbfounded and zealously staring at mitsuya. mitsuya offers him a scant smile, and mana steps out from his behind, silently gaping at the two identical faces.

mana has never seen such resemblance in two siblings.

“hiroshi, haruki!”

The boy in front of the door immediately rushes inside at the holler and the other; the other boy clamps his legs together and bows, “excuse me,” he says as he too, runs inside the house, carefully passing through the boxes that litter their front.

“taka,” mana says.

“yes?”

“thwey look swame,” mana exclaims in astonishment as she looks up to see mitsuya gently smiling at the ajar door. “I guess they’re twins, mana,” he replies, bending down to caress the top of her head.

“what’s twins?”

“it means they were born together.”

mana looks quite dejected at his answer and mitsuya wonders why, he was positive there wasn’t anything to be upset about here. “I thought doramon mwade a dwuplicate,” she says, voice disconsolate, and mitsuya’s eyes droop down in a straight line, wondering if he’d ever get used to this.

she’s a kid after all.

“too much tv, mana.”

The bell chimes in when another customer enters the café, the majority of it already packed with a bunch of students and elderly people. you can’t spare your attention to the new customer, having been occupied with mixing the concoction of syrups and chocolate into heavy milk. you do have your hopes on your co-worker though, who you’d left behind, but who’s also terrible at handling customers.

honestly you didn’t know why the owner had even employed him, his temper was straight-up frightening and your heart spins on anxiety every time you leave him alone. hence, you try your best to hurry and have him get back into the kitchen so that you could receive the orders.

The moment you step out of the staff-only door and hand the beverage over to your co-worker, subtly telling them to deliver it to table five- you see the corner most table occupied with a single person, it shouldn’t be though. you walk to the corner of the aisle, scrutinizing to relieve your concerns of where are my brothers, they aren’t unsafe, right?

but hiroshi and haruki are right there, sitting diffidently in front of the said stranger, though he looked quite familiar when you looked close. you quickly wipe your hands on your black apron, making your way over to the corner to take a look, curious.

hiroshi and haruki are efficiently chatting, the most they can at their age anyway, and the boy who sits with them, is who you notice to be the one you’d met the other day. that boy who came with the little girl. his arms are folded over the table and he’s softly smiling at your two siblings, haruki’s occasional bubbly exterior coming into view and hiroshi trying his hardest to contain the energetic boy. as a sister, seeing them so gleeful made your heart swell, filled with the maternal gratification you relished so much.

“hello sir,” you speak, making the latter look up to meet your eyes. you’d say it was the first time you’d gotten such a close look at his face, and his divine lavender eyes that peered into yours.

“I was wondering why your brothers were there,” he says, scratching the back of his neck in nervousness. his eyes double-taking a proper look on you, he asks, “do you mind if i..?”

“no, it’s totally alright," you smile at him, your hands waving to symbolize nonchalance, "you live in the same apart right?”

“yes, right upstairs, mitsuya takashi.”

“I see. I’m y/n.”

then it falls to thin silence, however, mitsuya tries to make the most of it as he takes in your features; your subtle yet tired eyes, your hands that looked too calloused to be of a teenager's and your endearing gaze as you look at your twin brothers, whispering soft nothings to them. It had clicked him the moment he met the twins, why were they here? you must’ve had no one to take care of them back at home if you brought them here during work hours.

did you bring them here everyday?

It was hard to keep your eyes on the kids when you were diligently working, but it was the best decision, he surmised, to have your eyes on them it was the best you could do.

“anything to order, sir?” you ask after you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears- that mitsuya notices rather attentively- your notebook and pen ready to take note.

“a latte would be fine.”

“coming right up.”

then he watches your figure vanish off behind the counters, and your brothers eager to let him continue where he left off.

mitsuya knew he wasn’t being very interesting, but the way haruki’s face lit up every time he smiled back at him was fervent, and mitsuya couldn’t help but feel the accomplishment creeping in when hiroshi burst out in a smile along with his twin.

they both looked the same, but were such different personalities that it baffled mitsuya. while haruki was so utterly cute, pink fanning his rosy cheeks and jutted lips spread in a small smile, hiroshi was composed and calm, brethren of serenity pooling under his fingertips like silver. while haruki’s ruffled brown hair amplified his adorable appeal, gorgeous wisps falling over his cute little eyes; hiroshi’s tender eyes added to his reserved charm, his bangs combed and styled in neat strands.

after he’s done with the coffee and with entertaining your brothers, he briefly ruffles their hair- partly apologetic for ruining hiroshi’s neat coiffure- but it was too tempting not to, he excuses. then mitsuya struts off to the counter, paying (that's just an excuse) as he strikes a small conversation to let you know just how amazing your siblings had been.

honestly, mitsuya was mesmerized at the compassionate glint in your eyes when you talked about them, and the minute spurt of pride that glazed you equally insecure lips. It was apparent simply by watching that you loved your siblings to bits, and if mitsuya could do anything to help, he knew he’d do it without a second thought.

“they’re usually quite compliant, but I can’t really keep them sat on one place for so many hours. besides, my superior doesn’t really fancy it, but I had no choice,” you say, expressing your concerns as you sullenly look over to your twin brothers. “I’m not able to give them the time they need, it feels like I’m extricating them from e good upbringing. it's distressing for me but there’s nothing else I can do.”

mitsuya’s eyes fall over to them along with you, watching as haruki tries to fabricate tissues into an aeroplane and hiroshi simply peers- the amusement hidden beneath his sealed lips. and mitsuya thinks, he thinks; what if he could keep them with his little sisters? It would heave a great responsibility from your shoulders.

“you’re doing your best, you know it right? If it’s too much for you, I can take them both to stay with my little sisters,” mitsuya offers, observing a leaf of hope that breeds on your lashes.

“sisters?”

“yeah, I have two younger sisters. the youngest is mana, the one I came with the other day. and there’s luna, she’s two years older,” mitsuya informs, watching as your expression turns into one of awe, watching as your feet inclines to oscillate, but doesn’t, instead you sport a smile of glee when you ask him, “so you take care of your sisters?”

“uhuh,” mitsuya nods his head in affirmation, “I watch over them most of the time since my mom is busy, so it’s totally fine if you leave your brothers with me,”

but trusting an almost stranger with your brothers that are gem of your heart, it wasn’t as easy.

“I’d visit you tomorrow to meet your sisters, I’m sure haruki and hiroshi would be thrilled. I hope they can bond, so that I could leave them with you with no worries,” you tell him. then you dip into a grateful bow, your hands clasped into one hold as you say, “thank you so much, mitsuya-kun.”

“ah, please don’t bow!”

mitsuya is scared to bits because you might bow in any unknown time and he’s afraid he doesn’t know how to handle so much of formal gratitude; but then you stand up, head tilting to deepen the dimples that stretch your cheeks into pellets, “thank you really, mitsuya-kun.”

mitsuya would be lying if he said it didn’t affect him, you didn’t affect him; because his hands stutter midway when your eyes are barely visible through the tight-lipped smile you give him. and his fingers are cold when yours are pressing onto your own, poignant and beholden for the hope he’s offered for your siblings.

“please, the pleasure is mine.”

today was the day you’d decided to assess the opportunity of mitsuya takashi, the kind boy who lived upstairs. if you were to be honest with yourself, it’s frightening, since you couldn’t trust anyone blindly, even if their intentions are as pure as protein in egg-whites- it’s hard to.

you walk steadily towards the door in question, your brothers by both your sides, obediently clutching onto your hands. then, the front of the door with a neatly written “mitsuya” strikes at your heart, you really were doing it. but you suppress the concise blotch of uncertainty into the segment of hair that you tuck behind your ear and then you knock.

one, two, three – succinct thumps against the wooden door.

one, two, three – you wait.

one, two and –

“y/n-chan!”

mitsuya peeks through the door as he unlocks it wide, letting you into the floors of his cliquey yet convivial home, "come in."

“ah, I’m afraid I cannot come inside right now,” you say, politely refusing his generosity.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, but could you…..let haruki and hiroshi stay for the time being?” you ask, and even though he’d affirmed you that it was okay, that it was his deliberate will to let them stay, you still considered the diaphanous strip of prospect that he might not be able to.

but mitsuya smiles as he utters a rather generous, “come in, haruki, hiroshi,” ushering them to leave the warmth of your palms. haruki doesn’t bother to hesitate and merrily tunnels into the house, his eyes wandering everywhere to scrutinize the details of a new home. hiroshi, on the other hand, seems tersely iffy about it; but as you hold both of his hands in yours and give them a little embrace, telling him it’s alright; hiroshi too, steps into the house, taking a truncate look at mitsuya’s standing silhoutte.

“he behaves so mature,” mitsuya says, a bewildered glint in his eyes. “he does, it’s like he’s already so grown up.”

mitsuya looks at the smile that formulates on your face, your grip on your baggage tightening. and he watches when you crouch down and call for your siblings, “hiroshi, haruki, I’ll be back in the evening, stay with oniisan, okay?”

haruki is the first one who comes running straight into your embrace as hiroshi too, joins him in rather steady steps. you snuggle into their warmth, patting their back with adoration when the both of them press a moist kiss on your cheeks- and mitsuya stares with a smile, watching you giggle, the sonorous melody leaving you so effortlessly.

he thinks it’s the first time he’s seen you actually smile, so genuinely, with your gums show-casing only to turn your lids into hemispheres. he’s so focused on you that he doesn’t notice when your eyes lock into his, and when he’s peering into yours too, pre-occupied. “thank you, mitsuya-kun,” you mutter, and mitsuya thinks he’s been thrown into a tempest because of how graciously your melody enthused his instruments.

“don’t mention it.”

that afternoon, you’re greeted by an unexpected visit from your neighbor, who comes into the café and leans against the counter. you eye him suspiciously at first, your gaze speaking the words of doubt seeing him stroll in so nonchalantly when he's supposed to be at home with his- and yours too- siblings. but the latter informs you that his friend hakkai was there back at home, with both of your gentlemanly brothers and sisters; subtly specifying that said hakkai 'loved' kids and that he’d had no problem babysitting four kids all by himself.

he partially felt guilty for lying like that, because four kids and hakkai meant the tall boy’s utter demise, but he’s gotta do it when the situation demands.

he tells you that mana and haruki got along quite well even after their feud that’d happened the first day, and that luna completely adores your twins and impartially stated that, “they’re better than mana,” to which he’d laughed. he tells you that as much as his sisters loved your brothers, he loved them too.

and strangely enough, it makes you blush.

thus, before you could begin to foresee, it became an everyday routine for you to leave your brothers with mitsuya before you retired for work. after two weekends of you spending the days at mitsuya’s abode because of your brother’s incessant insists, his sisters grew to be too fond of you; so before you left for work, it wasn’t just your brothers smooching your cheeks but his sisters too, clung onto your arms and gave you little moist kisses and bid you a very heartfelt goodbye.

even mitsuya saw how your heart wrenched when mana told you to, "come back soon, sis!"

your little brothers and his little sisters were always, from dawn to dusk, always together. It turned out that they became attached to each other’s backs, never wanting to break away, never wanting to separate. and you’d become a little family of two guardians and four siblings.

one small family that you'd never known would become such an essential part of your life.

mitsuya, on the other hand, visits you almost every day, with the excuse that hakkai was there and diligently watching the four troublemakers. though you should be glad that he’s aiding your café’s financial economy, but sometimes you told him that he didn’t really need to come daily, to which the lavender-haired boy replied, “I like it here, so why not?”

but you’re too oblivious to notice the sparkles in his eyes that only shined for you.

mitsuya attentively watches you work, watches when you tuck the stray thread of hair behind your ears while his feel empty, when you bite your lips while his are cold, when you accidentally smear powdered milk on your cheeks and innocuously forget to clean it while his hand itches to, or when you let out that big sigh of relief after your work-day comes to an end while he too, relishes in your joy. so mitsuya completely, utterly, thoughtlessly blames his biased impulse when he asks you, “I’ll take you home, hop on.”

mitsuya’s enchanted, as much he already knew, even more than how the flowers captivated him, even more than he thought he could be.

and when you loosely but securely hold onto his jacket as he speeds up on the road, mitsuya loses all reason to keep on impugning any of his impulses- because while his nerves are as steady as your immaterial presence, his heart is in a turmoil against all his rational permanence. he’d shamelessly add on that, even after months of his self-proclaimed routine, he’s still not used to the searing heat that engulfs his organism whenever you’re this close, this near to him.

he thinks it’s weird, he thinks it’s totally abnormal for him but he knows it too.

but he can’t confess, not yet.

mitsuya would've never surmised the hell that breaks loose when he receives a call from you, in sunny daylight.

the sun was high up and scorching when he was on his way to touman’s scheduled meeting, an important one that required him to be present. mikey had applied much pressure for the squad captains to be there, claiming that it was necessary and that if his mediator wasn't there, it would cause disorder. the touman settlement at five steps distance, mitsuya’s cellphone rings; and like the usual times, his lips form a smile when he sees your name on the caller id, and his fingers hover above the accept button as he gapes at your smiling face- but he’d have never expected the news that came afterward.

he presses the neon green button, inclining his cellphone beside his ear to greet you- but he doesn’t get to. instead, what he hears is the painful sound of your cries, chanting his name over and over and over again, in a relentless beseech, a relentless pain. “y/n, y/n! respond to me, please,” he pleads over the phone, your sobs prickling like strident needles to his chest.

he hears you heavily sniff through the incessant snivels, prompting yourself to speak something, anything coherent; mitsuya doesn’t expect you explain anything and he’s more than relieved when you reply in choked stammers, “ […] h-hospital.”

and that’s all it takes for him to rush to you in minutes.

he hurriedly gets to the said hospital, mumbling you and your siblings' names to the receptionist in a splutter- he doesn’t bother to say thank you as he runs up the stairs to the third floor, his mind scurrying over the words the woman behind the desk said, “[sirname] haruki is in a critical condition, if you’re one of his guardians, I suggest you complete the arrangements and the payment soon enough.”

mitsuya is terrified, he’s walking on needles and sheathed swords and it hurts, it really does when he sees your tear-stricken face buried into your hands, sitting in the waiting area with hiroshi by your side. hiroshi’s too little to understand, too young to reciprocate the pain you’re feeling, but his little hands caress your back anyway, his eyes skimming to half-lidded sadness as you cry into your hands.

mitsuya’s sure that the little one doesn’t even understand what’s happening, why you’re crying, or why his other half’s in the operation room and why they’re not letting him, letting you through. It’s all the more painful when his mind skids over and over and all he can say as his feet stutter in front of you is, “I’m so sorry,”

you look up, with your lashes fluttering with an unstoppable tide of tears that mitsuya wished, prayed he could swipe with the pad of his fingers. your lips tremble when you press them together, and your arms jump up to cloak around his neck in desperation, in utter vulnerability. mitsuya holds you close, sneaking his arms around your waist when you conceal your face into his nape, letting out a few sobs, a few cries, a few choked whispers as you clutch onto the material of his shirt- leasing all your burdens, all your tears and your tremulous fingertips reside against the cotton of his shirt.

“h-haruki,” you try to speak, but it all comes in incoherent stammers- you don’t want to try, you knew you didn’t need to try because mitsuya gets it, he understands it.

“it’ll be fine, trust me, it’ll be okay,” he whispers into your ear, caressing your back in consoling, slow strokes. he lets you cry into his shoulders, lets you dampen his shirt that he couldn’t care less about, lets you hold onto him as the only support that held you together.

“mitsuya,” you croak, “mitsuya, what if i lose him?” you bring your face out, your eyes barely open with the horror of your own words, “I can’t, I can’t lose him!”

mitsuya can’t say anything, can’t word anything out because really, what if? he too had his sisters, he too would break if anything were to happen to them. and just like his sisters were everything to him, yours were too. but, what if, what if, what if- it’s excruciating to think, even more painful to visualize the possibilities of what if, what could happen; what if, what if, what if.

he too, didn’t know.

his heart tugs and sears itself away as your chest reverberates with your sobs, your lachrymose eyes filled with grief, consternation, and pain. he wished he could take it all away, take all the worries and all the pain away from you- make it his if he has to, he’d do it a thousand more times if he has to. but seeing you like this, was unbearable for him.

so he really can’t do anything as he sits you down on the bench yet again and crouches down to pull hiroshi into his chest- simply hearing you cry, the remnants of your pain that he could feel stabbing at his own eyes as he mutters to you, “it’ll be alright, he’ll be okay,” — and to himself.

It’s been a month since haruki was rushed to the hospital, a month since the dreadful time you'd passed in the hospital corridors. the mere remembrance of it brings you fright, you never want to go through it again, never want to face that pain again. you knew all together how excruciating it felt, how you felt like you'd been broken to innumerable pieces that mitsuya could barely fit in his hands.

it's too painful, you think.

however, the operation was successful and the doctors assured that he’d be fine within the next few weeks. but boy, haruki was absolutely vigilant, he couldn’t bear the thought of not getting to play and not getting to torment hiroshi by kicking him. and while he was resting in your chambers, luna and mana made it a habit to stay in your room and entertain him.

you didn’t know what you’d do if you didn’t have those little girls, if you didn’t have mitsuya.

but haruki’s pleads were getting incessant so you’d convinced mitsuya and took him to the park with a few of his friends for extra help- and also met the infamous hakkai he’s always mentioned.

at first you and mitsuya were with haruki, watching his every movement to see if anything hurt, worried and livid with any discomfort he displayed. but after a while, haruki was more than fine and so, he pushed you both to go rest under the tree- having known himself how much strain you’d put on yourself ever since his release.

hakkai was terrible with kids, so your noted. while chifuyu, a friend of mitsuya who’d owned striking cyan eyes and blonde hair, excelled at the art of babysitting- but he treated them too much like he was handling a cat. and takemichi, oh him, the poor lad who’d done nothing but been ignored and only demanded a little bit of attention- did the bravest thing possible.

while hakkai was busy getting tackled by mana and haruki, takemichi went near them like the hero he thought he was, and declared in strong, authorative words to, “fight me instead,” and that was how he dug his own grave, with mana and haruki stuck on his stomach as he gets fists of sand thrown at him. on the other side, you see hiroshi and luna dangling on chifuyu’s legs, refusing to let go of their grip and the laughter that never ceased to escape.

you think it’s bliss in the form of smiles.

“say y/n,” mitsuya says, staring off to space, and you reply in a hmm, “if it’s alright to ask, don’t you have any other guardians? you’re too young to be working instead of going to school.”

you stay silent for a few, though you weren’t scared to tell him, he deserved to know anyway. but you still take a few seconds to formulate your words and without any hesitation, you reply, “no, I don’t. it’s because our parents passed away right before we moved. and I didn’t really have any relatives I could rely on. I didn’t want to too, they never bear good intentions- the relatives I mean.”

you then look at him as he stares back into your eyes, “we moved because I wanted to save money, in case something like- something like this happened,” you smile at him but mitsuya knows the unsaid words that you hide- in case one of you fell to the clasps of death, you wanted the money to save them.

you were so prepared that it makes mitsuya’s nerves run through a hill.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“no it’s alright," you wave your hands in dismissal, "you’ve helped me so much. you should know.”

mitsuya clamors all the courage that he had in him, and slowly encases your hands into his; giving them a soft squeeze- and feeling how snugly your hands fit into his- he says, “please know you can come to me for anything, any kind of help. I’d gladly do it for you.”

anything? you think. mitsuya was a rather rational being, so such words out of him were out of your expectation. your lips break out in mellifluous laughter, and you remove one of your hands to keep it above his, “anything?”

“well, almost--”

“can’t take your words back, mitsuya kun.”

mitsuya simply smiles as you laugh in front of him, your head tipping back, the hair you’d tucked behind your ears coming loose. “you’re doing so much for me that there’s nothing more I could ask of you. I can’t spend time with my brothers, or take them to places, treat them to restaurants because I have to work. I’ve chosen to give up on my ambition for them, I’d do anything and everything it takes for them, so thank you really. for doing the things I couldn’t.”

the last part of your speech catches his attention like a grasshopper on his windowsill, “you had a dream?”

“it sounds weird to say this now, but yes I did,” you reply, letting the loose strands of hair irritate your lashes, “i…wanted to be a model,”—it’s impossible now, you think. but you don’t really regret, you don’t regret one pinch of all that you’ve sacrificed for your brothers who are your entire world. “but I’m not cut out for it anymore I think.”

mitsuya seems to ponder for a while, and then he eyes you with the mesmerizing and affectionate look in his eyes that brought along that soft smile of adoration, “no, I think you’d make a great model.”

you go along with his dreamy atmosphere, your head tilting as you ask, “really, you think so?”

mitsuya’s free hand rises to tuck your flowing hair behind your ears that had already imitated the color of the similar vermillion sky, “I know so,” and you know he’s not joking at all when he says, “you’re always stunning.”

that makes you abruptly break free the taut hold of your hands, though you regret it right afterward when you begin to miss the soothing warmth of his palms. you look away from him, bringing your hands up to your face to feign a cough- or to hide the crimson that coated your cheeks, you didn’t know, “I could sit here and watch them wall day, they look so happy.”

mitsuya knows how cliché euphemisms are, how cheesy affectionate words are, but his mind seems to spill all of the poetry, all of those verses like a hymn when it comes to you. he’d say you’re godforsaken-ly perfect, godforsaken-ly beautiful and godfor-fucking-sakenly so gorgeous that he can't begin to explain; but he knows you’re not flawless, you’re not the goddess of perfection his eyes may make you out to be. because that’s what makes you all the more beautiful-- your imperfections, the crinkles of your eyes, the scratched skin of your forearm, all the things he knew you’d never liked about yourself- he loves it, he loves them.

say you take the moon for example, the full of flaws, splotched part of the galaxy bards romanticized to be eternally perfect, but it really wasn’t. it was so filled with imperfections and blemishes and dark gray within its white that its flaws were what made its splendor all the more encasing.

he thinks that’s you. that’s your charm, that’s the coruscate that takes refuge in your eyes as you look away from him, that’s the shine that furbishes your silken hair to strings of velvet, that’s the lacklustre that graces your fingers and the skin of your rubicund cheeks, that’s the uneven surface of your lips that you’d bitten at any chance you’d got, that’s your specialty, your perfection, your excellence- just so you.

the perfection in your flaws.

mitsuya mumbles, unheard by you, “I could sit with you forever.”

final

“miss y/n!”

— comes the bellowing voice of the woman behind the ornate wooden desk, calling for you in a whim of apprehension. you turn around to face her and consecutively, your hair slides above your forehead, covering a part of your eyes; but you don’t bother, you don’t tuck it behind your ears like you normally would, “yes?”

“It’s out of your official schedule, but you have an appointment during the lunch hours,” she informs.

“lunch hours?”

she haphazardly goes through her pile of papers, whimsically looking for a particular encrypted parchment; you watch her as she mutters a ‘please wait’ and scrambles through the envelopes on her chair- till you see her grab a piece which wasn't paper.

she brings up a silver-accentuated piece of clothe to you, its surface embroidered in flowers and a letter you knew all too well. “sir asked me to tell you to meet him during the lunch hours,” she says, handing you the handkerchief that slithers like silk into your palm.

despite you knowing who it was like the other side of your palm, you still ask, “who was it?”

“designer mitsuya takashi.”

you nod to her as a sign of approval, thanking her before you stride off to his workplace, at the very end of the hallway and preferably the largest room in the complex.

you’d have never imagined it, never imagined your rather exorbitant heels to click against the tiled floor as you walk in a rather expensive dress garnishing your figure. you’d never have imagined the boyish mitsuya you’d known forever to knock on your door after years you’d lost count of- his lilac hair grown further his neck, his slender figure wearing a priceless suit that complemented his similarly lavish business card.

you wanted to cry, you wanted to hug him and ask him why; why did he leave without saying anything? why did he leave after he told you he liked you? why wasn’t he there? or where even was he? you wanted to jump into his arms the moment you saw him, tell him that you’ve missed him so much while he wasn’t there, tell him that you liked him, no, you loved him back, tell him to never leave again because it really hurt to have a part of your life gone and detached from you. but, you do none; you shut the door right to his face and hear him exclaim behind the doors.

"ah, y/n!"

he rang the doorbell another few times, promptly giving up when you showed no signs of mercy. you’d thought he left when you open the door again, with a sea of tears in your eyes- but there he was, with his kind eyes and serene smile and waving at you as if he’d done nothing.

you broke down right then and there when mitsuya takashi, apologetic as ever, pulls you into him, softly cradling your head and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. you try to push him away, punch him with all your remaining strength, tell him to get away and that you didn’t want to see him after all this time- but he only holds you closer, his lips right beside your ears as he mumbles, “I’m sorry y/n.”

you guessed you never had it in you to be mad at him, never intended to push him away when he’s so deliberately calling out for you- so you couldn’t really blame yourself when you slumped onto him, simply crying your heart out. your get out’s turned into don’t leave’s and your I don’t want to see you turned into why didn’t you come sooner?

you guessed love was as persistent as ever.

“work with me, y/n,” he says, offering you his business card from the other side of the table. “work with me and use me to get to your dreams.”

that’s how you're now trying on the most recent of his new creations that weren't revealed to the public or any agencies yet. facts unchanged, mitsuya takashi is an excellent couturier, so his tailoring is zero to never not pleasing. you know when you try the dress on that he's spent so much time trying to get it to fit your figure, every little stitch and every little piece of fabric- even the colour, is hand-picked exclusively for you; and you know by how it hugs your curvatures that he's been the best version his own persnickety critic when he made it to look pretty only on you.

"how is it?" he asks you, the measuring tape hanging around his neck and his fingers gliding over the smooth surface of the polished wood of his sewing table.

"beautiful," you say, performing a little twirl, a gracious smile on your face to emphasize how much you really liked its outlook. mitsuya then comes up behind you to clip the topmost button you'd missed- which wasn't even compulsory because most people won't notice that. but mitsuya, he can't miss it, he can’t but gape at your salient details and your intricate expressions.

he clips up the button and smiles to the mirror, "you're always beautiful."

even after the almost two years you’ve worked with him, his compliments never cease to paint your cheeks into a shade of pink, “thank you,” you say — like you always did, whenever he threw those praises you’ve never heard him say to anyone else.

unbeknownst to you, he quietly spins you around, taking both your hands into his as he looks into your eyes with vehemence pooling in his two orbs. unbeknownst to you, he marvels at the garnet dress he’d sewed himself, caressing at your skin as his other hand slips down to rest in his pockets. unbeknownst to you, he reveals a similar velvet coated case from his concealed pocket, looking at the tears that coat your eyes. and totally, chastely, yet wickedly unbeknownst to you, he presses a kiss to your forehead, uttering in intransigent, committed words, “marry me,”

you’re absolutely flabbergasted as he kneels down before you, your hands adapting a tremble as you anticipate his actions; but the latter, he smiles as if it were nothing. mitsuya slowly opens the maroon case to reveal an equally vibrant yet minimalistic ring as himself, proposing yet again, “marry me, y/n.”

you don’t know if you wanted to gasp and animatedly say yes like you’ve always wanted to, or if you wanted to bend down and kiss him right then and there because- he’s really proposing to you, mitsuya takashi is proposing to you.

“be mine baby?”

but you can’t really voice out anything when you clamp your hands on your lips, irrepressible tears streaming down your cheeks as you repeatedly nod your head. mitsuya seems to have premonished the situation, seems to be not shaken at all because of how handsomely he asks for your hand, prompting you to drop your right hand onto his.

and after all this time, you say, “i’ll marry you, takashi!”

as mitsuya slides the ornate ring on your ring finger, he wastes no time- immediately standing up to slither his arms around your waist as he entraps your lips into his, kissing you with all the words he couldn't speak, all the feelings he couldn't express.

his tepid, soft lips moved slowly against yours as his arms held you tighter, enabling you to keep your balance through the shivers and the sudden loss of strength in you. you felt him smile into the kiss as your fingers fondle with his mullet, and he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, moving his lips in a slow, passionate rhythm. even if it was just a kiss, a silent form of intimacy; to you, it spoke of countless words, words that were indescribable and laced with ample epiphany.

this was so much more better, so much more magical than all the times he’d planned for the perfect proposing kiss. but that wasn’t perfect, perfect was a now, perfect was the sentiment you shared, perfect was the longing, the triumph.

perfect was you.

as much as he didn’t want to break away, you both were getting out of breath and he could feel you struggling to keep the pace. mitsuya breaks the kiss, wet lips ghosting over yours and foreheads in the heart-hold and simple, pure joy rushing in his veins. he couldn’t but burst into the widest smile he could generate, with both his hands enfolded around your face, thumb in constant motion as it blindly glided over your cheek.

this was your happy ending.

“you're good?” he asks- as if he didn't just kiss you breathless, as if he didn't just kneel down in the most fanatical way, as if he didn't just ask you to marry him like your prince in shining, blinding delight.

as if he wasn’t having fun while you inhaled sharply to regain your stability.

“no, i'm not dumbass!”

mitsuya lifts your panting face to meet his smile; and then he, with all the care in the world, tenderly tucks your free hair behind your ear, “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he says.

“you could’ve always done that,” you reply, giggling into his lips. he kisses your lips again, “nah, it feels different when you have a stunning fiancé,”

you puff your lips in a pout, “I wasn’t before? is that why you didn’t confess?”

mitsuya takes amusement in your faux sulk, pressing onto your cheeks, he chuckles, “you’re always stunning.”

“I just wanted to give you the happiness, be the man that you deserve.”

you stare into his lavender eyes you loved so much, as if they were a token from undulated amethyst, broken and turned into orbs that no beauty could top, “I love you, takashi.”

though it’s natural of you to say this, mitsuya still can’t evoke his eyes from turning into saucers. then it’s your turn as you press an abbreviate peck on his lips, watching with amusement how the crimson his cheeks share are so akin to yours, “ and I always wanted to do this.”

you’ve never expected a happiness this bright to smoke into your life, savoring in its redamancy that never ceased to amaze you. but it's mitsuya takashi, the boy who’d always had you back, the boy who’d been the epitome of your comforts, and now the man that owned half of your life. he bumps your noses and returns back to kissing you with the smile and the finesse never leaving him and you wonder.

you wonder how you could get so lucky.

you wonder how he could come to love the perfection in your flaws.

i whopped my ass over this, and as i come to the end of editing, my legs are fucking numb and its 3 in the morning. i'm dying but it's good that i post this before i die.

[keimisan]

↪ face masks and gels- rin. haitani

- in which rindou is too petty to admit it.

pairing: rindou x fem!reader

warning(s): makeout? kinda, fluff mostly, it's canon that rindou is petty, it's canon that rindou is a grumpy smurf

“come on, lean back!”

rindou didn’t know why or how he agreed when you asked him if he’d like to freshen up. as innocent as it sounded, freshening up wasn’t the traditional, completely self-indulgent act of splashing water on your face and calling it a day, not at all. absolutely not when you were sitting him on an inclined back plush chair and mixing avocados and strawberry syrup with a damn tablet.

the mixer literally looked like a barbie toy to him, unequivocally useless to the view. but he was genuinely surprised when he saw that it actually worked; and that you actually flapped your sweater paws with joy when the concoction stilled. you poured the liquid on a mold, spreading and putting it in the mini freezer you’d gotten specially for these masks. expensive spending n your stead but rindou didn’t understand hot girl self-spoiling anyway.

whatever made you happy, he didn't really care.

and then rindou’s neck-hair rises up when you smear a cold substance on his face, spreading it across his cheeks with the softest of touch, “did you cleanse your face or did you just water-wash it, rin?”

while it did feel restful, rindou sighed dramatically at your doubts, “i used the exact facewash you gave me,” he replies, albeit grumpily.

your giggles resound the room when you childishly boop his nose, earning a scrunch back from the boy laid underneath, “it’s an exfoliating cream, bet you’ve never exfoliated your face.”

“this world is new to me.”

after a good while of you carefully preparing him for the final act, making sure that his skin is perfectly prepped and moist, you head out for the mask in the freezer.

you’d admit, rindou has patiently sat through the entire process with his eyes closed, probably partially asleep too- much contradictory to his defiant demeanor. but it’s when you remind him how long he’d sat and thank him for it, he lets go of that composure and sighs heavily- and dramatically.

“why did i even agree?” rindou laments, slapping a hand on his forehead as he watches solemnly when you bring out the ‘facemask’ from the freezer. he almost sneers on impulse, being his usually grumbling self, but your giddy steps and the nonchalant sway of your hips permit a little gratification to his agitation-stricken nerves.

well at least you were happy with whatever you were doing, heckins to his face, perhaps.

“heyyyy, don’t touch the skin, i prepped it you know.”

“it was supposed to be, no, it is my face.”

“now don’t be so petty, you said yes tough guy.”

“everyone makes mistakes," rindou snickers, but submits to you anyway.

with that being his last word, you set the translucent mask on his face, beginning to soothe it out with a face roller, “close your eyes,” you say.

rindou can’t but admit that the lax and cold press against his face along with your gentle hands treating his cheekbones like a fragile jewel did feel good; it felt appeasing enough that he could drowse off listening to the summer girl piano music in the back. and you were rather skillful at it, with your proficient caress that almost felt like a paid-massage session.

but then again, rindou haitani is too petty to admit it.

“feels nice?”

he hears you ask as you withdraw your hands from him and rindou doesn’t say anything but simply shrugs, though internally, he already reminisced your warm hands easing out the coldness of the mask, even for a second. when after two solid minutes he finds no trace of your figure behind the chair, or even the subtle feel of your dancing hips, he wonders where you’d went with the nice marble roller.

you’d told him not to open his eyes, but not like he’s one to listen; so he, as discreetly as possible, cracks one eye open- which immediately gets shut again with the press of your two fingers, and your small voice that tells him to, “nuh uh.”

“dammit.”

like that, the rindou haitani no one’s been able to tame sits on a slanted chair for twenty minutes straight, completely relaxed, with a strawberry-scented avocado mask moisturizing his face and a cucumber pigmented eye mask forcing his lids shut. though he’d adamantly denied it, you knew he liked your face therapy by how his breathing relaxed every time you dragged the smooth marble across his skin, or how the omnipresent creases of his brows turned into a forgone memory when you massaged his face with nimble touch.

you knew the very ruthless, slapdash and belligerence expertise younger haitani certainly had soft spots; starting from you who’d been one of the only people to witness his many sides, to his annoying brother, to the pencil that got him better grades and to your shenanigans you’d named as relaxing sessions. he didn’t dislike it, of course, he didn’t when your sunlight radiated off to him like a virus, when your cutesy frolicking had him mushed; heck, he’d even choose his favorite academic subject if that’s what you asked- he’s glad you didn’t.

past twenty minutes, “it’s done!” you announce, now slowly peeling the mask from his damp face.

your eyes are literally shining as you do so, spotted with unparalleled satisfaction as you look at the now glistening skin, all of it the result of your hard work. rindou pretends to blow a raspberry but you see the little smile on him when you twirl around to keep the used mask on the table, cast to trash.

he instantly picks himself, attempting to get up from the chair, “yes finally done.”

but he's pushed back with your hand slanting him against the chair yet again, your head shaking as a no, “nope, we’re done with the mask, not with you.”

“the fuck?”

you chuckle at him, bringing out a reddish lip-shaped solidified gel from rindou didn’t know where- and gently set it down on his lips. then you apply pressure against the satiny curvatures to properly settle the mask.

rindou didn’t know if he’d been shut up by a gel mask or if you took too much fun in indirectly sealing his lips to muteness. nonetheless, he’s now forced to watch as you flitter and whirl in front of him, the impromptu tropical playlist now the cardinal of your attention.

it’s exactly after three songs do you whip to look at him, with crossed arms and a pissed look on his face. rindou supposes this mask too, had reached its time when your dancing comes to a halt. and much preferably, your attention too, switches back to his suffering self.

you clap your hands, saying times up! and rindou releases a breath he didn’t know he’d held. you peel the pinkish gel from his lips, the skin now too nourished and too provocative for you to ignore. you’d done a great job honestly. his skin felt as silky as velvet and looked as good as a baby’s and his lips- plump and fresh from the nourishing gel.

so you succumb to your urges and press a kiss to his freshly hydrated lips, tasting the humid flavor of strawberry from the mask, “now we’re done with you.”

but rindou can’t let you slip away with what you’d just done, not at all. how dare you catch him off guard like that, now you’ve got to suffer the consequences.

rindou hoists at your wrist, pulling you in between his legs with one swift move, a smirk adorning the lips you’d spent so much time on, “but i’m not done with you.”

with that, he encases your lips in his, gently tugging at your lower lips as he pulls you closer. in a minute, it turns into a series of soft pecks against your lips. sometimes a few smiles came in between, a few unreciprocated trials of pushing him away while he just grinned and tightened his hold on your waist, a few protests because as much as you loved getting showered by the rather timid boy like this, rindou was showing no sign of stopping; and sometimes a few breaths mingling with his own, gasping for the sole purpose of being able to kiss again- which he does, rather voluntarily.

you slap a palm on his lips as he leans in to initiate another kiss, asking, “but seriously, it felt refreshing right?”

rindou pretends to think, his pupils moving to corner of his eyes, “i guess.”

“say thanks.”

“anything for you, stubborn woman.”

“no, rin!”

rindou is still too petty to admit it.

prayer circle that this beats shinichiro

[keimisan]

when they put on headphones, they're listening to (categories)

actual music

MITSUYA, souya, inui, naoto, yuzuha

relaxing tunes

hina, inui, TAKEMICHI

weird, obscure noises pinipeWpeWminimeWmeW

ran, nahoya, HANMA

the horrified screams of their enemies

SANZU, izana, rindou

meaow meaow

CHIFUYU, kazutora, baji, wakasa (im sorry-)

wears them to show off, didn't even know they could play songs

kakucho, hakkai, kokonoi, MIKEY, senju, peh-yan

too tough for stable music, listens to metal

RINDOU, mucho, yuzuha, draken

what is music, put the headphones on fire

BAJI, ran, sanzu, nahoya

i hope someone else hasn't done this before dfivsjdv

[keimisan]

⇛ the chaos and the peace - mitsuya takashi

pairing: mitsuya takashi x gn!reader (self-insert)

words: 1,163

description: our boy mitsuya with an s/o who's crazy like Baji

warning(s): nothing, just a crazy reader and ma boi mitsuya softly falling in love. It was supposed to funny but it turned soft. Let's be real, mild cursing.

requested by @angrysupremacy

songs: maniac- conan gray

mxmtoon- cliché

When you were first presented before Mikey, the leader of the infamous gang Touman, you were described as sporadically crazy. Mikey wanted to place you under a division that could tame your antics but Baji came forward, joined hands with you, and demanded you to be put under his supervisory. The entirety of touman knew, ah, what a bad decision because chaos plus chaos was forest-fire and even Mikey won’t be able to hold you both down.

But Baji said what he did, and you were put under the first division. Mikey also told Mistuya to keep you both under a check, since you both together seemed like a predestined omen to him. It was one heck of a week, to say the least, because the next Mitsuya knew, you and Baji burned up a car, menaced a convenience store worker, screamed incessantly in the middle of the road and threatened your own class teacher to politely let you bunk so that you could go and eat some snacks.

In the next touman meeting, Mikey swung an arm around Baji’s shoulders and said, “They’ll be under the second division from now on.” Baji gave him an incredulous look and pretended to throw hands and to take it seriously. But Mitsuya, already done with the stunts you’d pulled in a week, said, “You punch me or whatever, I won’t take another burned car.”

Though being in Mitsuya’s division put you in a solitary suppression from your everyday drama, it wasn’t that bad. Mitsuya took you with him almost everywhere and kept an eye on you so that you don’t scram off and burn yet another vehicle. Besides, he was really handsome with his piercing lavender eyes and kindness etched onto his skin like magnificent freckles. You guess you didn’t mind being docile once in a while if you get to receive that affirmative smile from him.

Once he saw you walking with a container of kerosene, dangerously close to his precious bike- he thought you were going to burn it down because he kept you stifled. Then, Mitsuya ran towards you, panic evident in those purplish eyes as he says, “Look, I know I did you wrong, but don’t burn my bike please, it’s my life!”

You look at him with empty eyes, utterly confused. That’s when he notices that the container was empty and mentally slams a hand on his forehead. “Ah, I’m extremely sorry for that. I misunderstood you.”

You then smile at him, shaking your head to symbolize that it was alright- he’d apologized too, how could you stay mad even if you wanted to? That was probably when you realized that his kindness and the gentle glee of his demeanor doubtlessly entranced you. And you actually fell quite hard- so deeply that your mind never accumulated any thoughts of burning down a car.

But you weren’t the first one who confessed. It was the second division captain, who with a trace of perspiration on his forehead, scratched the back of his neck and told you he liked you. Of course, you didn’t know why, you mean, you both were so different that it was laughable. The skin of your hands was coarse and your mouth was unpredictable; while him- he was soft-spoken and gentle, though unbelievably strong too.

Baji couldn’t believe his ears when you told him Mitsuya was in a relationship with you, who was called baji two because of how miscellaneous you were. But nonetheless, your counterpart was happy for you, and assured you that he wouldn’t even need to threaten Mitsuya to keep you happy because the latter just wasn’t that type.

Mitsuya had plenty of babysitting antics from raising his two adorable sisters, Luna and Mana. Though at first he didn’t trust you with them because you were definitely the type to teach them how to break someone else’s pencils, or twist their ankles if they pissed you off. True to his thoughts, you actually were teaching them how to make the immaculate paper planes so that they could hit kids from a distance. Something you named, “Baji two special long ranged attack.”

Well, he didn’t really mind that.

Your dates with him were fun, like really fun, for him and for you too; though he pretended to be in a bind with your craziness. He’d never say it to you but your chaos matched well with his peace- and he really liked to see you enjoying yourself; even if it meant you were throwing someone’s shoe into the river. He’d reprimand you, sure, but only because he knew you’d never listen to him.

You were this one dollop of craziness he couldn’t pacify, but it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for him; partly because you were considerate and kind when you wanted to be, and partly because he really liked you. Now, we can’t beat feelings, right?

But his lips twitched when you and Baji walked on the roads, arms wrapped around your shoulders. He’d really need to be on guard because Baji and Baji two together was a handful.

“Fuck off,” Baji says. You pull your sleeves upwards, gathering your breath as you say, “Fuck off,” but louder. Mitsuya face palms from right beside you.

You were smart though, and helped him a lot with gang works. You could see through people easily and named it as, “I don’t like their vibes,” and Mitsuya trusted you blindly on that.

Most of your dates were in his house, playing with his siblings and maybe cooking. Though Mitsuya won’t let you in the kitchen because he didn’t want burnt eggs on his platter. Once he took you to a festival and you wore a kimono, he was quite- mesmerized. Because how beautiful. After that, he makes sure to invite you to festivals just so he could see you in a kimono because you normally wouldn't wear pretty things.

You both had your fair share of romantic moments. But Mitsuya vividly remembers when he first pulled you close with a sea of courage, to kiss you, Baji one burst through the door and went, “YOOO,” and you completely ruined the mood by yo’ing back. Though the latter went away after catching the signs, Mitsuya was too flabbergasted to actually continue.

Mitsuya always keeps you beside him, not because he needs to keep an eye, but because he felt at ease when you were with him. Though he’d never have expected that you’d kiss his knuckles after a fight and ask him to kiss yours too because apparently, “they hurt”.

And not to mention his sisters betrayed him for the first time in his life when they said, “Bring oni-chan, they are more fun,” and he stared with wide eyes because all that hard work and sweat he put into raising them and this treatment is what he gets.

Last but not least, you both knew he was the serene moon and you were the scorching sun, but he loved you anyways because you filled the gap of comfort for him that he never knew existed.

I feel like this isn't what was expected.

[keimisan]

⇛ out with a kick - nahoya kawata

pairing: Nahoya “Smiley” Kawata x fem!reader

words: 1.7k

description/ request: can i request a smileyxfem!reader where the reader is much stronger than him and they meet up in a fight where she saves him and he falls in love with her and tries to confess?

songs: no one- lee hi

            oh- stray kids 

for @mostazamerlo​, hope you like it!

The Kawata twins, a sought-forth identity that gave chills to ordinary delinquents. Nahoya was used to facing dangers and threats and situations that required him to fight- not very often but he had his fair share of experience. But these occurrences were mainly centered around when he’s alone, poor on defense and seemingly vulnerable.

So it was uncalled for when he was exposed to public. Nonetheless, Nahoya never had his guard down, not for a moment.

“Yo bro, I forgot my wallet. I’ll go get it, you wait here,” says Souta as they both stand in front of the Kawata residence, prepared for their daily survey. Nahoya watches his vice-caption stride up the stairs, but doesn’t follow- instead his eyes wander to the busy roads of Tokyo, taking in the bustle of hectic workdays. It’s nothing out of ordinary, the screeching vehicles and resounding footsteps as boring as everyday noise.

Though he doesn’t particularly like the main roads, he can’t but accept that it does make him feel better secured because of the myriad of people surrounding his sides. It assures him that an ambush in a place like this is simply impossible. So he pursues his lips to incite a melody of whistles, pre-occupiedly waiting for his dear brother, half-defenseless.

And that’s when he feels a hard kick land on his back, catching him completely off guard as he stumbles to the ground- unnoticed and unforeseen. In the few seconds that awaits his fall, he mentally prepares himself for a counterattack to come the moment his knees touch the ground- and for him to dodge it. But when he expertly flips himself around, swinging with the support of his right hand on the ground and eyes the mysterious opponent with their hand fisted tightly to launch a punch- something more unexpected happens.

What he sees next is your uniformly customized booted leg above his head, diving straight into his opponents face that has him jerking back. Your feet land smoothly on the ground, the tips of your boots handling your weight like that of a ballerina- effortlessly supporting your proficient execution. Your foot taps the ground in a pretense of adjusting your shoes, your hands sliding back into your pockets as you watch the beaten man fall to the ground with an audible thud.  

Two more men come forth from the sidelines with their arms positioned and ready for attack- and Nahoya’s heart skips a beat. Maybe now’s the time for him to step up and take the fight from your hands- even though his mind went into a haywire by how amazing you were.

But before his knee is even lifted from the ground, your body spins into a pinwheel; your fingers sneakily grasping onto one of the attacker’s wrist as you strongly pull on his arm, making him lose his footing and bend forward. Right then, you jump into another gyrating carriage, your boots coming in contact with the back of his head in another solid kick- knocking him straight to the ground.

Nahoya’s eyes are wide open and astonished at how well you carry yourself and how efficiently you execute your movements. The entirety of your defense seemed like a choreographed dance of destruction; with you weightlessly pirouetting in the air and galloping through. He felt absolutely useless and yet he just watches when you encircle the other into a headlock with both of your legs- your hand grasping onto the man’s hair as you jump from his shoulder and exceedingly drop his head down with your weight, smashing him directly on the ground.

Just like before, as if you were a matter against gravity, your booted heels land swiftly on the concrete road.

And Nahoya’s awe-struck as he wonders if he’s the one who’s out with a kick.

“Are you alright?” You ask, half pivoted. Nahoya immediately stands himself, dusting his casual pants as he replies, “Yeah.” And I would’ve been even you weren’t here. I would’ve most probably beat their ugly faces black and blue to knock them out- absolutely not as gracefully as you.

You nod with a slight smile that has Nahoya’s stomach fluttering like bract-petals in a rainstorm. Nahoya doesn’t realize if he’s just awfully amazed or if his head is doing cart-wheels in a frenzy because damn, he seriously needs to ask you out.

“What a fighter,” he hears Souta exclaim, both of their eyes trailing your silhouette as you mingle into the ongoing crowd. But for Nahoya, the silver plates of your boots still shined strong among the hurdle of bodies.

Nahoya’s smile widens as he says, “Sorry lil bro, she’s mine.”

There’s no way he can just leave you alone after you saved him- gracefully, he must say- from a bunch of harmless lads. He rolls up one of his sleeves, his smile doubled in anticipation as he proposes, “Lil bro, let’s go after her.”

“Are you sure you want to stalk someone big bro?” Souta says, even though he’s already trailing after his older brother in the same pace.

“That’s not stalking, I just want to thank the lady for saving my life.”

Souta doesn’t object any further. His twin was more than capable of his own defense, so something must’ve occurred in that brain of his that he, so eagerly, wanted to go after a girl just to say ‘thank you’. He must’ve lost it, Souta thinks.

Nahoya can’t see you all that well and sometimes even loses sight of the shine of your boots, but he puts his instinct on stake and follows after you, Souta trailing near behind. A spectacular fighter like you is ought to have impeccable sixth sense, so Nahoya doesn’t even question the possibility that you might not know you’re being followed.

Surfing through the thin alleyways and taking multiple turns brings him to a remote neighborhood, its silence almost questionable. But Nahoya being himself really can’t care less. At the end of the previous turn, his eyes don’t see your boots or your cascading hair anymore. 

So this is it, he thinks. You’re about to make your royal appearance and ask him if he wanted to die. And he’d say that not before he asks you out. Thus the commence of his legendary love story- so he surmises. 

The ridiculous fantasy of his ideal confession is broken to pieces when he feels a distinctive kick coming from behind. Nahoya immediately moves to a side, swiftly dodging the sole of your feet- his widening smile a firm proof of his enjoyment. His eyes are again charmed by how fluently you land on the ground yet again.

He thinks for moment maybe he’s in love with your flexibility too.

No that’d be a fact.

Nahoya’s smile doesn’t even flinch when you slam him against the wall, your hand gripping the walls beside his head. Nahoya shamelessly enjoys looking down at your fierce eyes, his long forgotten stomach doing flips yet again when you tap your boots against the road.

“What do you want?” you threaten.

Oh, it’s the guy at the road-junction, you think. 

The older twin laughs in utter delight, your short figure strangely feeding his superiority complex. Though he knows that he’ll be defeated by the same kick he’s so enamored by- but he can’t help finding you painstakingly adorable.

“I want you,” he chuckles. Your hands flinch for a moment, a bit taken aback by his blunt behavior- and when you sharpen your eyes towards him, he still finds you adorable.

“Stop joking cotton candy head,” your voice is nowhere near his carefree demeanor, you sound so threatening that anyone would be intimidated. But Nahoya laughs yet again, this time the soft reverberation of his chuckles resounding through the air with hefty effort. 

“I am so charmed!” He exclaims, his head tipping back as he chuckles even louder- which you find annoying. Then he clutches onto his stomach when his head drops, still laughing and still annoying you to the core. Not to mention that you saved him and he’s still being such a, ”Blatant idiot.”

“Blatant idiot? Woah you’re so creative!” he crouches to match your eye- level, the giddy smile never-fading. Too close, you think. Your head leans back on impulse, your expression contorted into one of fluster.

“Do you want to die?”

The boy before you pauses dramatically, his flagrant amusement more evident than ever. Then he breaks into a surprised giggle, much to your confusion.  

“Damn, how much more perfect can you be?”

You’re again taken aback, what on earth about you did he even find charming? Much less perfect. Your thoughts are put to a conclusion when he inches closer to you, pleased as he says, “I like you. Go out with me.”

“We’ve just met-” you try protesting, but he cuts you off in seconds, “I really like you. I can work to make you like me too. So, go out with me, yeah?”

He doesn’t look bad, his smile is a little aggravating but beautiful nonetheless. His cheeks are uplifted in a comforting manner and he likes your toughness- not something seen in my guys- so why not? You think you’re falling into a dilemma, but he still finds it cute and he still smiles at you like you’re a star of an inimitable constellation.

“I mean, maybe? I don’t even know your name,” you say after a considerable amount of silence. “Whats your name?” He asks. 

“Why would I tell you?”

“Well I’m Nahoya Kawata. Nice to meet you then, girlfriend.”

You swear you weren’t supposed to be flustered at how he called you such a nickname in such an unfaltering way- you should’ve known. But,

Kawata? The Kawata Twins?

It catches you so off guard that you don’t realize he’s already out of your cage and celebrating his end of single-era; his laugh a tremendous reminder that you too- despite your vague answer- aren’t a lone wolf.

“Yo lil bro, I got myself a girlfriend!” Nahoya exclaims as he slips out from your arms, his arm lifted up to signify triumph- leaving you dumbfounded in the corner. 

“Yes I saw big bro.”

Your cheeks are tinted in a fresh pink as you watch him fist-five his twin- his obvious triumph visible through his crescent eyes. He throws his arm around his brother, beginning to walk out of the alleyway. And you’re heavily tempted to call out his name and ask if you’ll meet again. 

Maybe he really was joking?

“Girlfriend!”

Your attention snaps back to him, not at all used to the little nickname he’s given you. 

“Tomorrow at 2 p.m. where I first met you. Hope you’ll tell me your name then. Ba-bye!”

He shows you one last glimpse of his signature smile as he walks off arms-to-arms with his brother and you wonder if you’d show up or not. 

  I don’t take requests for now, but I will soon enough, so please don’t send in requests ^.^

[keimisan]

↪ strawberries and cigarettes- s. sano

pairing: shinichiro x gn!reader

wc: 438

a/n: I WAS POSTING IT THEN I LOST THE REQUEST DAMN. so i'll write what i copied in my docs, from @schiros : shinichiro + angst + "Man, I'm stressed out, I need a cigarette" or just any lyrics from the song tbh (uncomfortable - chase atlantic)

I'm so sorry this took a whole troy sivan turn i-

warning: smoking !!

your fingers wrap around your head, exasperated and perennial as they fist tightly on your hair; the hold getting gradually, disproportionally harder and narrower and unbearable. the deep-rooting prickles under your scalp is far beyond your care, you can’t even feel it; and it’s totally absorbed under your grunt of frustration when shinichiro’s eyes stare blankly, with the same careless emptiness and pretense of giving zero fucks to your words.

“man, i’m stressed out. i need a cigarette,” he says, turning around and leaving your tears to freely fall upon the stained soil.

it was always like this, always him avoiding anything that he didn’t like, and ignoring everything that went against how he lived. there was no way you could change a portion of his habits, or even be a part of his lawless life- and yet you tried, been trying for months to mean something to him, to have him communicate with you like everyday lovers, and to have him give a shit to your words that were nothing but meaningless to him.

“of course i’m stressing you out, shinichiro,” you feign a laugh through the tears that keep cascading on their own, suppressing the thickest of infuriation under a cloak of mockery, “you can’t seem to feel at all, but i always stress you out. isn’t that right?”

the black-haired man irritably snuffs out a stick of tabacco from his pockets, lips contorting into a grimace as he takes in your unkempt appearance, “i’m burnt out okay? like shit, give me a rest.”

“you know what? let me give you a rest,” you hastily wipe your tears with the back of your hand, hauling the backpack you always carried over your shoulder, “from me.”

"we're done, sano."

and with that, your footsteps resound against the suffocating wall, your snivels a nearby reminder to him that he’d failed you, your trembling lips a cue that he'd never get to taste the strawberry in your kisses- and you walk away with eyes that will never again look at him with the sight of love, never again show him the shine of kindness.

shinichiro knew he fucked up, in the most moronic way one can, and lost one more thing that kept him alive.

he lights the cigarette and takes in a deep whiff of nicotine straight to his lungs, believing that the poison will numb him, will keep the emotions away as it always has, that he’ll be able to forget the strawberry of your lips, be able to escape if he exhales one more gray breath through his mouth.

but how can he escape you if you’re in his head?

i honestly really dislike cigarettes, I can't stand people who smoke (due to personal reasons as well) so writing this really made me mad at shin 😭

[keimisan]

↪ as long as you're there - s. kawata

- in which kawata souya is far too comfortable for you.

wc: 1,110

lowercase intended

songs: promise- jimin

another day- stray kids

{currently incapable of fixing the banner, so pls bear with it being souta)

reposting because it wasn't appearing in the tags

your eyes are almost as good as closed by how your lids feel weighted by a ton of bricks, or how your lashes lazily kiss each other amidst the absurd drowse. you won’t say you’re sleepy, you never really were, much courtesy to unappreciated insomnia and the times where you’d closed eyes for hours but slumber never came your way. to the point that a slight burn in all its permanence had taken clear refuge in your eyes, sometimes hurdling and sometimes eliciting a tear or two to escape. to sum it up, you won’t say you’re sleepy, you were just undeniably tired; and probably a little famished too.

“are you sure? you look very tired,”— comes the voice of your dearest, plumbing through your minuscule urges of doze. you look at the front to see that he’d already settled netflix and a few store-bought snacks right beside it, ready for the home date you’d planned on, “we can do this another day, please tell me if you want to go back.”

“it’s fine,” you reply, adhering to a small smile as you pat the seat beside you, ushering him to claim his side of the bed. but souya, your absolute beloved, stares at you in worry; his turquoise orbs obstinate with disbelief. “can i take you home?” he asks, casting the remote aside.

“but i came to spend time with you, i don’t want to go home.”

souya takes in the dainty crease of your brows and the fatigued gleam of your pupils that had lost a little of its glistening brilliance. it’s adamantly visible how tired you were, how the darker bags beneath your eyes were begging for respite; but you’re as stubborn as your own slumber. so souya can’t say anything when you’re baiting your all-time-lucrative puppy eyes and telling him how eagerly you’ve looked forward to this home-date.

sometimes souya blames himself for getting carried away by your cutesy talk too much.

“come on?” you ask, a rather simple smile playing on your lips. souya gives in with a belated sign, “alright,” as he plops down on the seat beside you, keeping a visible distance in between.

you know for a fact that even after dating the boy for a while, he’s still hesitant with the tiny skinships that are supposed to be frequent. souya has immense respect for you, and for your personal space that you’d never specified to him- so he guesses the least of your boundaries through and thorough. which meant a prolonged reluctance whenever he wanted to hold your hand, or when he’d wished to embrace you in his arms, or simply when your propinquity was too close.

you take the initiative and lay your head on his thighs the moment the 20th century fox drumrolls into your vision, feeling perceptively how the boy flinches at the contact. you feel his muscles tense up in alarm, an inaudible ‘eek’ almost leaving his lips, and his hands that swing in the air- indecisive with where he could place them.

“hey,” you say, grabbing one of his hands closest to you as you pull him down. souya visibly sweats with apprehension reeking off him at its best. you look straight into his ocean eyes, “it’s alright, you know? relax.”

souya drops his hands into your submission, letting you engulf it within yours as you snuggle closer to his warmth. your shy yet dearest and beloved moves discreetly, at least he tries, before you feel a hand gently nudging your head with a cushion, “your neck will get sore,” he says. and you let him sneak the soft pillow under your head, let yourself become more comfortable on his lap.

it’s a piece of heaven broken and bestowed right into your hands, a column of peace and a gemstone of love graciously nipping at its outskirts. you wrap your fingers around souya’s thumb, pulling it right under your cheeks as you press a kiss to his knuckles. after a few more minutes and into the defiant female lead’s dialogues that whiff up your head like clouds, souya’s legs ease into normalcy, and his other hand sluggishly rests against your hair- softly stroking now and then. even though he doesn’t even realize how or when his fingers caress and entangle into your hair.

“souya,” you say, and his hands stop moving, switching his attention to you.

“yes?”

“m’ sleepy,” your voice sounds every bit of tired and drowsy as he makes it out to be, and souya suddenly feels a pinch at his chest when you clasp his hand closer to your neck, your fingers grabbing onto his thumb like it's your last means of survival. “should i turn off the movie then?” he asks, silently peeking at your side-profile.

“no…keep it going.”

he radiates confusion and a subtle wave of ‘what am i supposed to do right now' which emanates a somnolent giggle from your throat, the sound softly ringing his ears. he then goes through a sudden reawakening, saying, “should i turn down the sound, is it bothering you?”

“no, as long as,” you rub your cheeks against the calloused skin of his fingers, “nothing’s bothering,”— as long as you’re there, you mumble, unnoticed by the jittery boy.

souya remains quiet for a few minutes. the rhythm of his breathing and the comfort of his soothing scent wrapped around you weighs your eyes down. and before you know it, you’d fallen asleep with his hand in yours, his voice being the last of your memories.

and you swear it could never get better.

“then, umm,” the latter begins, “hey, how about this— y/n?” his free hand moves the hair concealing your face, and there he sees it, the softness of your sleeping figure; utter comfort etched onto your features as if you’d canceled the world out, picked the mellow shell of a silky cocoon and begun your slumber akin to a quiescent chrysalis.

"you fell asleep?"

souya bends to see the long-awaited quietude adorning your face, your soft and cadenced breaths fanning his fingers and your forehead devoid of any creases it’d held before. he smiles to himself, strangely enough, your home dates always ended up being sleepover dates, though souya really doesn’t mind. he finds it rather beautifully mysterious how his mere touch can get you over your lost slumber anytime, and he finds it absolutely advantageous that it’s him who has this effect on you- since he’d made it a habit to scrutinize your beauty and your charm in the flush of your cheeks, adoringly. to say the least, maybe it gets him to drowse off shortly after you, leaving the day’s worries to the back of his mind as your breath lulls him to sleep.

and he swears it could never get better.