Hi, I'm Becca I INTJ I anything basketball/sports related & honestly anything related to my favourite anime/mangas I feel free to request
Lovely that you found your way to my blog!
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Rukawa Kaede x fem!reader
summary: Rader is super sarcastic, a bit arrogant, and actually just like Rukawa. Because she’s been made to do community service – for falling asleep in class yet again – she’s ended up at the basketball club. But because she and Rukawa are constantly bickering sarcastically, it’s more of a punishment for the team. Except that feelings are slowly starting to develop.
genre: romance kind of...maybe this story needs a part two???
word count: 3.9k
You didn’t even mean to end up here. That’s the funniest part. One moment you were slumped over your desk, half-asleep during algebra for what your teacher swore was the last time, and the next you were being told—very calmly, very cruelly—that you’d be “helping out the basketball club after school until further notice.”
Community service, the headmaster called it. You called it exile. You simply couldn’t be a genius if you didn’t sleep during the day and rest at night after all that studying. Ugh, the teachers just didn't get that they'd be better off if they'd just left you to it. In your opinion, that was just embarrassing. Who on earth would punish their best pupil?
___ _ _ :
And now, every afternoon, you’re standing inside the Shohoku gym with a whistle blowing, sneakers squeaking, and a group of sweaty teenagers pretending they don’t dread your presence. Except one: Rukawa Kaede.
He’s exactly as everyone described him: annoyingly talented, annoyingly quiet, annoyingly pretty in a way that makes it worse. And, unfortunately for both of you, he looks at you like you’re mildly inconvenient weather.
“You’re late,” you say the first time he walks in after practice starts.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he replies, already grabbing a ball. “I know. I was talking to your sense of punctuality. Or better, the lack of it. Does it also sleep through alarms?”
He pauses just long enough to glance at you,“…Tch.”
It becomes a pattern. You criticize his laziness. He ignores you. You call him arrogant. He calls you “loud.” You correct his footwork. He corrects your existence in the general vicinity of basketball. And somehow, no one stops you. Because weirdly, it works. Practice gets sharper when you’re around. The team hates it, but they also get better. Which means Coach just lets it happen with the expression of a man watching a controlled fire.
Mitsui mutters once, “They’re gonna kill each other.”
Kogure replies,“Or fall in love.” He clearly reads too many romance novels. He gets elbowed immediately.
___ _ _ _
It starts small. A water bottle appearing beside you without explanation. A basketball rolling back to your feet after you don’t ask for it. You don’t mention it. He doesn’t either. Instead, you say, “You passed too early. Were you trying to be helpful or just bored?”
And he says,“You were slow.” And that should be the end of it. Except it isn’t. Because when you’re not there one afternoon—when you’ve been sent home sick with a note saying rest or you’ll actually die in the hallway, apparently—the gym feels louder. More chaotic. Less controlled. And Rukawa is noticeably worse.
Not very dramatically. Not enough for anyone to accuse him. Just enough for people who’ve been watching closely to notice.
“He keeps looking at the door,” Miyagi says at one point. “He’s not,” Rukawa says flatly, replying to his friends remark. But he does it again ten seconds later.
___ _ _ _
The next day, you come back like nothing happened. “Wow,” you say, dropping your bag by the bleachers. “You all survived without me. Impressive. Did you have to downgrade the IQ requirement to compensate?”
“Welcome back,” Mitsui says, relieved. Rukawa says nothing. But he’s looking at you. A second too long. Then he turns away. Way too fast.
It’s only later—after practice, when the gym is mostly empty and the sun is spilling in low through the windows—that it slips. You’re packing up equipment, still talking,“You know, I was gone one day and everything fell apart. I think that says a lot about your emotional dependency on me.”
“It didn’t fall apart,” Rukawa says. “You stared at the door like it was going to give you answers to your life.”
“It was just distracting.”
“From what?” He doesn’t answer immediately. That’s unusual. As usual, he always has a clever retort ready. You finally glance over. He’s holding a ball under one arm, eyes half-lidded like always—but not quite as detached as usual. “…You weren’t here,” he says.
“Yeah, I noticed. I was the one not here,” you reply sarcastically, as usual. A pause. Then, like it’s nothing, like it’s just another boring fact he could drop and forget: “It was quieter.”
You blink,“…Are you complaining that I talk too much?”
“No,”Another pause. Longer this time. Then, quieter: “It was worse.”
That stops you. Because that doesn’t fit in the usual categories. Not insult. Not annoyance. Not even indifference pretending to be irritation. Just… honest Rukawa. Which is rather unusual for him to speak of his emotions and thoughts freely. You recover quickly, of course.
“Oh wow. Rukawa Kaede misses me. Should I alert the national news or just tattoo it on my forehead?” He should roll his eyes. He should walk away. Instead, he says, almost absently: “You should’ve come back sooner.”
That’s when the gym goes silent. Not physically. But socially. Like every other person in the room just collectively stops existing on purpose. Miyagi slowly lowers the basketball in his hands. Mitsui looks like he’s trying not to smile. Kogure looks like he’s watching something inevitable finally arrive.
You, meanwhile, are doing what you always do. Deflecting,“…Wow. That sounded like concern. Are you sick? Should I call a doctor? Or is this just your personality malfunctioning?”
Rukawa finally looks at you properly. “I don’t like it when you’re not here,” he says. And then, as if realizing he’s said too much, adds: “Because you’re distracting.”
Silence. You stare at him. He stares back. Like he always does. Neither of you moves. Then you scoff, because of course you do,“That’s the worst confession I’ve ever heard.”
His expression doesn’t change,“…Confession?”
The word lands differently for him. Like he didn’t mean it that way. Like he didn’t realize it could be taken that way. And now he’s stuck in it. As are you. Behind you, someone makes a sound that might be Mitsui choking on laughter. But neither of you turns around. Because for once, there’s nothing to say that doesn’t change everything slightly.
I've admired ur blog for a while, and i luvvvvvv it. especially being a huge slam dunk fan who keeps rewatching it 😼.
If u have time, can u do like a rukawa x reader fic where reader is basically Kainan's manager? they have a 2 year age gap because reader is a 3rd year, Quiet, Observant, Reserved, but has a sly personality? They are really smart in terms of basketball that they are an important part of Kainan like a "brain"??? (that reminds me sm of Kenma)
Also, can the fics setting be in a like practice match or training camp (you choose!!!!)
—Take ur time!! ♡
Hi there luv, sorry it's taken me so long to get round to your request.Life has been pretty stressful. I hope you're still happy about it, though.
___ _ _ _
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Rukawa Kaede x fem!reader
summary: See request above!
genre: romance
word count: 3.2k
Sometimes you think no one else has ever felt that way except you. That feeling that everyone else knows less than you do. Not because they’re stupid, but simply because you know more. Because your brain works completely differently.
At school, that made you an outsider, the annoying swot. Someone for whom what others considered too little was never enough. It seemed as though you were never satisfied. But there was one place where you weren’t just welcome, but where your talent was also appreciated: the Kainan High School basketball team.
It was secretly your favourite place in the world. You felt right at home there. It’s just that... well, your highly strategic, sharp mind came with the downside that you tended to be rather introverted emotionally. Strong emotions quickly overwhelmed you.
For that reason, the Kainan lads usually left you in peace. Except when it came to preparing for an important match. Then at least one of them was constantly by your side, trying to persuade you to help out.
That was exactly why you were on your way to your school’s smart new sports hall. You’d paired your forest-green sports shorts with a white T-shirt that was far too big. You’d slicked your hair back into a tight bun. You hated it when your hair fell into your face. It drove you crazy.
___ _ _ _
Sneakers screeched against polished dark wood, as you opend the doors to the gym. Basketballs struck the floor in rapid and harmonious rhythm. Someone on Kainan’s bench was yelling at Jin to stop hogging all the towels again. And coach looked like he said the same thing over and over again. Everything was just as usual. And that was a good thing. It meant you could relax. You didn’t have to come up with any new strategy to navigate social situations.
The training session was in full swing, so you quietly made your way to the substitutes' bench. You simply dropped your bag on the floor beside you.
___ _ _ _
And through all of training, you sat quietly at the scorer’s table with a clipboard balanced against your knee, completely untouched by the chaos. That was your job. To develop strategies against the opposing team, observe them and identify patterns. And that is exactly what you were just been discussing with the boys.
“Y/n-senpai,” Kiyota groaned dramatically, leaning over your shoulder,“You wrote six whole pages on Shohoku.”
“Seven,” you corrected without looking up.
“THAT’S WORSE.”
You finally lifted your eyes, calm and unreadable,“If you’d stop jumping at every fake pump shot, I could’ve kept it at five.”
The team burst into laughter while Kiyota collapsed onto the floor in betrayal. Takasago wheezed,“She got you again. Y/n youre so funny.”
You hid the faintest smile behind your clipboard. Most people underestimated you at first. They labled you almost every time as the quiet, polite and reserved girl from the 3rd year. And also most of the time, after two minutes, they realized Kainan’s entire defensive adjustment system ran through you.
Coach Takato trusted your reads more than assistant coaches sometimes. That was the highest compliment you could get. Before every major match, you were the one charting player habits, weak-side tendencies, stamina drop-offs, emotional triggers.
You noticed everything. Your eyes as sharp as the ones of an eagle. Which earned you the nicknames eagle eye or queen of chess. Which was precisely why Rukawa Kaede’s behavior had become so entertaining lately.
You noticed him before he even walked into the gym. The heavy doors slid open. Shohoku’s infamous rookie stepped inside with that same detached expression he always wore, basketball tucked beneath one arm. Practice jersey loose. Half-asleep eyes.
The room shifted slightly at his presence. Kiyota immediately scowled,“Why’s the fox here?”
“He’s here for the joint practice tomorrow,” Coach Takato answered. Rukawa barely acknowledged anyone, well expect you. But only in the form of a tiny little glance. It was subtle. Most people would’ve missed it. But you noticed the brief pause in his stride when he saw you at the scorer’s table. The near-imperceptible shift of his gaze.
___ _ _ _
For about a year and a half now, it had become a tradition to play friendly matches together. The School Sports Association wanted to use this to encourage exchanges between schools. This year, Kainan had been drawn against Shohoku. Secretly, you were looking forward to it a little. It was going to be a very entertaining weekend.
___ _ _ _
The way he walked toward the water coolers despite there being one significantly closer to him. You pretended not to notice. For you, it was more fun that way.
“Manager,”His voice was low and flat as usual.
You looked up slowly,“Rukawa.”
Kiyota looked personally offended that you knew his name. Rukawa stood there silently for a moment,“…You analyzed our Sannoh game.”
Not a question.
“You noticed?” you asked. He stared at you. That was answer enough. Of course he noticed, it was Kaede...golden boy of the Shohoku basketball club. Rukawa noticed basketball the way predators noticed movement of their prey.
“I liked your rotation prediction,” he said. Kiyota made a choking noise somewhere in the background. You tilted your head slightly,grinning,“Only liked? I feel offended”
Rukawa blinked once, clearly not expecting teasing from you,“It was accurate.”
There it was. High praise, at least in the weird "Rukawa language". You hummed softly. “Then I’m honored.”
He stayed there. Not leaving, not speaking either. He was just standing there. Beside your table with all the conversational abilities of a brick wall.
You waited patiently, curious to see what would happen next. Even though your analysis of the situation had already suggested a possible next step of his. This had become a pattern recently. Rukawa would appear near you for increasingly ridiculous reasons.
Borrowing tape he clearly didn’t need. Or asking for game notes he already memorized. And another time he was standing suspiciously close during joint practices. Once, he even sat beside you for nearly twenty minutes in complete silence while you organized stat sheets.
You’d timed him. Today, apparently, his strategy was staring. It was new, refreshing and it was absolutely no use if you wanted to grow closer to someone you really liked.
“You’re trying very hard lately,” you said casually. His eyes narrowed slightly,“At what?”
It was cute, you thouhgt,“Getting my attention.”
Dead silence. Across the gym, Kiyota sensed drama and immediately stopped stretching. Rukawa looked at you for a long moment,“…Is it working?”
You nearly laughed. Not because it was smooth, because it was so painfully direct. So completely Rukawa. You just knew him so well. And sometimes even you were surprised by the extent of it. He was just so full of blunt honesty, that was delivered with the emotional expression of a housecat.
You rested your chin lightly against your hand,“I noticed weeks ago.”
Rukawa looked genuinely caught off guard,“…Oh.”
“And,” you continued calmly, “I wanted to see how long it would take before you realized I knew.”
Another pause. Then, unexpectedly, the faintest hint of annoyance crossed his face,“You’re mean.”
You smiled properly this time. Kiyota gasped in horror from across the court,“Y/n-SENPAI CAN SMILE?!”
Neither of you acknowledged him. Rukawa studied your expression carefully, like he was memorizing it,“You’re different when you smile.”
“Most people are,” you laughed.
“Hn,”There was that look again. The one he always got during games. Weirdly focused and so full of intent. Rather studying. Except now it was completely focused entirely at you. And to be honest, it should’ve been unsettling. As you didnt like attention that much. But instead, you found it strangely endearing. It was lovely to know that I was seen in that way.
“You like smart girls,” you observed.
"Yes,”No hesitation.
"And you think I’m smart," you teased him further.
“Yes.”
Again, immediate. You tapped your pen lightly against your clipboard,“You’re straightforward.”
“You hate dishonesty,” he defended himself. You paused. Interesting. Not many people noticed things about you. You looked at him more carefully then. Rukawa wasn’t very socially skilled. Everyone knew that. But him being observant? Terrifyingly so. Of course he’d notice.
He watched games down to foot placement and breathing patterns. Human behavior wasn’t that different. “You’ve been observing me too,” you said softly.
“Hn,”A tiny confession from the outside, but a huge deal coming from Rukawa. You looked away first this time, hiding your amusement. Oh he was such a dangerous boy. “You know,” you murmured, “most people try harder to impress girls they like.”
“I am.”
Your brows lifted. Rukawa nodded toward the clipboard in your hands,“I asked Akagi for your defensive notes from the Shoyo match.”
That was actually devastatingly effective, because he understood. Flowers wouldn’t impress you most likely, he figured as much. But valuing your mind? Using your strategies seriously? Listening when you spoke about basketball and what you had to say about it?
That mattered. It mattered to you, so it mattered to him. Also it helped that it was basketball, because honestly what did the boy care about other than his sport. And somehow this quiet, basketball-obsessed boy had figured it out. Had figured you out. You exhaled slowly through your nose,“…That was clever.”
A tiny shift in his expression. It was satisfaction. He was proud of himself. Like he’d just scored. Cute. Very cute.
___ _ _ _
Practice resumed around you both, noisy and chaotic again, but neither of you moved immediately. Then Rukawa spoke quietly,“You’re graduating soon.”
Not a question, but you nodded,“Mm.”
“I don’t like that.”
Your heart betrayed you with one stupid little flutter. There was something unfair about the way he spoke. Simple truths delivered with complete sincerity. You closed your clipboard,“Then you’ll have to make good use of the time left, won’t you?”
Rukawa stared at you. And slowly, very very slowly he smirked. Like he finally realized you’d been letting him chase you on purpose,“…I will.”
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3 // Here I am again! After a stressful period, I finally felt like writing again... only to realise that all that stress had given me writer’s block. So there’ll be new stories coming, but fewer and at longer intervals. I hope you're still looking forward to it.
pairing: Taiga Kagami x fem!reader
summary: If you’re an overthinker and always have a strategy up your sleeve, you sometimes make life harder for yourself. It’s just a shame when things are so chaotic that there’s really no common thread running through them. The reader is a track and field athlete and has a crush on Taiga, but she needs to think things through. Taiga, on the other hand, is too all over the place with himself and his feelings, and perhaps doesn’t think things through enough. Read and see what happens!
genre: romance, overthinking
word count: 4.8k
Sometimes you can’t believe your like this. It’s just before two and your staring at my smartphone screen. The bright light has been keeping you awake for hours, whilst you wonder what the following emoji means: 😅.
You can't stand that emoji. Why do people even use it? To you, it signifies extreme discomfort, which in this case would be tantamount to a disaster. When your thoughts return to the screen, the emoji is still grinning at you, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Why does he use it all the time? And by ‘all the time’, I mean in every third sentence! Deeply frustrated and annoyed, you snap your Motorola flip phone shut and throw it a bit too hard onto the bedside table. You had to work all summer to be able to afford it, which is why your hand reaches out to check if it’s damaged. It isn’t.
Your thoughts keep going round and round in your head for quite a while, until you finally fall asleep from sheer exhaustion.
___ _ _ _
Your dark circles speak volumes. Sleep was a foreign concept to anyone in secondary school anyway, but today it had reached new heights. Your best friend Riko had brought it up even before you reached the school gates. To put it in her words: you’ve looked better. And of all days, today. The tournament trials were coming up in the afternoon.
Ever since you could run, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. And at peak times, no less. An athlete who’s in a league of her own, or so the coach says. But also an athlete who seems to enjoy neglecting her sport. You’ve often been the reason the team has been given a dressing-down. And today would be no exception. It’s all down to him: Taiga Kagami.
A six-foot-three mountain of muscle, with the temperament of a Spanish bull and the intellect of a mayfly. How could someone have lived in America and still have the English skills of a primary schooler? It should remain a mystery to you forever.
And yet, his eyes, which seemed to glow red, his tousled, messy hair and his easy-going, laid-back manner had really won you over. Sure, he was quick to get annoyed and had quite a temper, but that was exactly what drew you to him like a magnet. Needless to say, you’ve watched every single match he’s played since he joined the school.
It was Riko who first told you about Taiga. She was almost overcome with joy when she told you back then that there was a new student in the basketball club who had huge potential. But you let Rikos enthusiasm rub off on you and dragged yourself into that filthy, smelly sports hall. Normally, you wouldn’t have been caught dead in there.
Ever since the judo and boxing teams had been training there, it always smelled of stale sweat. It was just disgusting. Though you forgot all about that the moment your eyes fell on him. He was everything you’d always dreamed of. Tall, attractive (at least in your eyes), wild, independent and full of surprises.
"Hey, are you actually listening to me?", Riko's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You apologised to her. But that wasn’t enough for Riko; she’d already realised that something wasn’t right. And knowing you as she did, there was only one thing that could throw you off balance like that: the opposite sex.
By the time you reached the door to your classroom, she’d got you to the point where you told her you were messaging a boy. And that he was driving you up the wall because he made you feel so insecure. As soon as the words had left your mouth, Riko already formed an opinion about your mysterious crush. And that was that he was an idiot. How close she was to the truth, you thought. Kagami was an idiot. An attractive one. Thankfully, the conversation came to a swift end when Mr Edo entered the classroom.
___ _ _ _
You’d been thinking all day about what new strategy you could use to get a bit closer to Taiga. Maybe you should join the basketball club, or invite him to one of your races? But maybe you should ask him first if he even liked track athletics. Whenever he and the other lads had to do stamina training, he didn’t look too keen... oh God, you were overthinking things about him again. And it would probably never end.
You’d promised Riko and Tetsu you’d help them decorate the hall for the sports day. You quickly packed your things into your rucksack and, on your way down to the sports hall, you put your headphones in. You needed to clear your head.
___ _ _ _
The gym smelled surprisingly fresh when you stepped inside, arms full of paper flowers and folded banners. Voices echoed from the far side of the court, sneakers squeaking against polished wood. And right in the middle of it all stood Taiga. Of course he was here too. It was actually ridiculous to think he wouldn’t be here. After all, he was part of the team. But somewhere deep down, you’d hoped he wouldnt be. You stopped for half a second too long. He looked up at the exact same moment,“Oh.”
That was all he said. Your stomach dropped immediately. Oh. Great. Amazing start. You forced a smile anyway,“Hi.” He nodded once, stiff and awkward, before looking away so fast it almost looked painful. “...Hey.”
And there it was again. That weird tension. Every time you tried talking to him lately, he got all strange — quiet, tense, avoiding eye contact. Half the time he answered in single words before practically fleeing the conversation. So naturally, your brain had decided to the only logical explanation, why he was so weird. It was the only thing that made sense to you: He’s uncomfortable around you.
Maybe you were annoying him. Maybe you talked too much. Maybe he thought you were clingy for always volunteering when the basketball club needed help. When really you should be in training for your own sport. You adjusted your grip on the decorations,“I can just leave these over there.”
“No—,”His voice came out too loud. Both of you froze. Kagami rubbed the back of his neck immediately, face tightening,“I mean... you don’t have to leave. Kuroko said you were helping.”
“Oh,”You hated how small your voice sounded. An awkward silence settled between you. He looked nervous. You were nervous. Like a lot. Neither of you knew what to do with your hands. It would’ve been funny if it didn’t make your chest hurt a little. You crouched down near the stage supplies and started sorting ribbons, trying not to think too hard about the fact Kagami had immediately moved to the opposite side of the ladder.
See? He didn’t even want to stand near you.
Meanwhile, across the gym, Kagami was actively fighting for his life internally: Why is she here today?!
It wasnt in a bad way. Absolutely not in a bad way. Actually, the exact opposite problem. It was because you were smiling at people while fixing paper chains together, and every single time you laughed, his brain short-circuited so hard he nearly stapled his own sleeve to a banner. What made it even worse, you never were like that with him.
He’d played against monsters in front of packed arenas. But talking to one girl? Impossible. Especially you. You, the Amazon of the athletics team. Tall, strong, powerful. Like a lioness. Whenever you walked into a room, you immediately filled it with your aura and charm. He was completely smitten the moment he first laid eyes on you.
He stole another glance. Bad idea. You caught him immediately. Kagami jerked his head away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Your shoulders fell slightly. Right. Definitely uncomfortable.
The insecure twist in your chest got worse. You stood up carefully, holding one end of a banner,“Can someone help me hang this?”
“I got it,”Too fast.Kagami crossed the gym in three giant steps before anyone else could respond. You blinked,“Uhm...Thanks?!”
“Yeah,”He took one side of the banner while you climbed the small stepladder to tape the corners down. The distance between you suddenly felt way too small. You could feel how tense he was. His hands gripped the banner tightly. His ears were red.
You swallowed. God, he really wants this over with. Then the ladder wobbled slightly beneath you. Before you could react, a large hand grabbed the side rail instantly.
“Careful!”
You startled, looking down. Kagami was staring up at you with genuine panic on his face, holding the ladder steady like it was the most important thing in the world,“You okay?”
The concern in his voice caught you completely off guard,“I—I’m fine.”
He didn’t let go immediately,“Good.”
Quiet again.
Then, after a few seconds, he muttered, almost under his breath—“You always try to do everything yourself.”
Your heart skipped,“What?”
Kagami looked horrified that he’d spoken aloud,“N-nothing.” But his grip tightened slightly anyway, making sure the ladder stayed steady while you finished taping the banner. When you climbed back down, your faces ended up embarrassingly close for a second. Kagami froze completely. So did you. His expression softened before he could stop it — nervous, warm, unbearably sincere.
“You did good,” he said quietly. Your brain stopped functioning. Because that didn’t sound annoyed. Or uncomfortable. Or distant. Or everything else you’d imagined. If anything, he sounded… careful.
Like he was trying very hard not to say the wrong thing. And suddenly all those awkward silences started looking a little different. Kagami stepped back quickly afterward, nearly tripping over a box,“I’m gonna— uh— move these chairs.” You stared as he escaped across the gym at top speed. Then, from the other side of the court, you heard Tetsuya calmly say: “Kagami-kun, those chairs do not need to be moved.”
“THEY LOOK CROOKED.”
Kuroko looked at you knowingly. You looked away immediately, cheeks warm. The nervous knot in your chest loosened into something softer.
___ _ _ _
The last banner was finally up. The gym looked completely different now — bright paper streamers draped across the railings, handmade posters taped neatly along the walls, balloons tied to every spare corner that didn’t look like it would immediately pop. People were packing up ladders and boxes, voices bouncing around the polished floor. You stepped back, wiping a bit of tape off your fingers.
“We’re done,” someone called. A chorus of satisfied groans followed and with that, like a switch flipped, chaos returned.
“You two did most of the hanging stuff, right?” one of the teammates said loudly, far too casually. Your head snapped up. Kagami, standing a few feet away, immediately stiffened.
“Uh—yeah,” he said. Too fast again. Too obvious. Someone — definitely one of his teammates — grinned,“Then you should check the storage room together to make sure we didn’t forget anything.”
Your stomach dipped slightly,“I can do it alone—”
“Nope,” another voice cut in,“Teamwork. Very important. Also Taiga is good with carrying heavy stuff.”
That was definitely not about teamwork. You looked toward the group, already sensing the trap. Tetsuya was there too, expression as calm as ever, but somehow… suspiciously unbothered. You’d had a bit to do with Testuya from time to time, through the library club. You only knew the other team members by sight. But you could smell a mile off that the tall, dark-haired one and the fair-haired pretty boy weren’t up to any good.
“I believe Kagami-kun and you will be efficient,” he said simply.
“That’s not—” Kagami started. But then a hand shoved him lightly from behind. Hard enough to make him stumble forward. Right next to you. The group collectively “accidentally” turned their backs. And someone — probably Kise Ryouta, judging by the dramatic energy — even waved a hand like shooing animals,“Go on, go on! We’ll clean up here!”
“This is stupid,” Kagami muttered immediately. “Yeah,” you agreed, a little too quickly. Neither of you moved. So the silence stretched. Then someone behind you loudly dropped a box lid on purpose. Both of you flinched. And somehow, you ended up walking toward the storage room together.
It was worse than the gym. The storage room was small. Too small. And it smelled awful. Stacked with old folded mats, spare equipment, and boxes that made everything feel even more cramped than it already was. Kagami stepped in first, ducking slightly under the doorframe. You followed. The door clicked shut behind you.
And immediately, the noise from outside vanished. Just like that. Now it was only the two of you. And the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Kagami stood very still. You did too. “I don’t think we forgot anything,” you said, breaking the silence first. “Yeah,” he replied. Another pause. He scratched the side of his cheek, looking everywhere except at you,“Im sorry, the boys totally did that on purpose.”
“Yeah,” you said again, softer. Silence again. You started fiddling with the edge of your sleeve,“They do that a lot, don’t they? I mean pranks and stuff....”
Kagami let out a quiet breath,“Yeah.” Then nothing. Except this time, neither of you left. Which made it worse. Because there was no escape anymore. No teammates. No excuses. Just the awkward truth sitting in the middle of the room like a basketball neither of you knew how to pick up.
You glanced at him quickly. He was staring at a stack of boxes like they had personally wronged him. You decided, against your own survival instincts, to speak,“Hey… do I make you uncomfortable?” The question landed like a dropped weight. Kagami snapped his head toward you immediately,“What?”
Your heart sank instantly. “It’s okay if I do. I just— you’ve been acting kind of distant and I thought maybe I was bothering you or—”
“No.” Sharp. Immediate. He realized how it sounded and visibly panicked,“I mean—no, that’s not—” He ran a hand through his hair hard enough to mess it up completely. “That’s not it at all.”
You blinked. He looked… stressed. Worse than stressed. Like he’d just been asked to guard someone in the final seconds of a tied game.
“You’re not bothering me,” he said quickly. A pause. Then, quieter: “You’re kind of… hard to talk to.”
That made your chest tighten again,“Oh.” Kagami immediately shook his head. “Not like that. I mean—no—wait, that sounds bad.” It was honestly a little funny, if it didn’t hurt. He exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself,“I’m just not good at this stuff.”
“What stuff?,” now you were confused. His ears went red,“…Talking to girls I like.”
The room went completely silent. You forgot how to breathe for a second. Kagami looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor,“I didn’t— I mean— I didn’t mean to say it like that—”
But he had already said it. And now it was just sitting there between you both, louder than anything else in the room. You stared at him. And he stared at the floor. Then, very quietly, you said,“I thought you didn’t like me.”
That did it. His head snapped up again so fast it was almost comical. “What?! No—why would I—?!” He stopped, groaned, and pressed a hand to his face. “You really thought that?”
You nodded slightly, suddenly embarrassed all over again. Kagami looked like he’d just lost a match he didn’t even know he was playing. “That’s… that’s not it at all,” he said again, but softer this time. “I just… didn’t know what I was supposed to say around you without messing it up.”
A beat. Then, almost grudgingly honest: “You always look like you’re doing fine. So I thought if I said something stupid, you’d just… think I’m an idiot.”
That made something in your chest loosen all at once. He was an idiot, but it didnt matter this much, since you liked him anyway. You let out a small breath,“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
He blinked,“…Huh?”
“I thought you were uncomfortable around me,” you admitted,“Like I was annoying you.” Kagami stared at you for a long moment. Then he looked away again, but this time it wasn’t avoidance. It was more like he didn’t know where to put his face. “…This is really stupid,” he muttered.
You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah.” Another pause. Less tense this time. Then Kagami scratched his cheek again, voice quieter,“So… we were just both overthinking everything?”
“Looks like it.” Silence, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. Just awkward in a different way. A softer kind. Kagami finally looked at you properly. Not for long. BUT long enough. “…You’re not annoying,” he said.
You blinked. “…You’re kind of really nice,” he added, like it physically hurt him to say it out loud. That made you laugh. And this time, he didn’t look away immediately when you did.
___ _ _ _
Outside the storage room, someone loudly called, “Are they still in there?” A pause. Then another voice: “Should we pretend we forgot them?”
Kagami groaned,“I’m going to kill them.”
But he didn’t move right away. Neither did you. Because somehow, standing in a cramped storage room with everyone outside laughing and teasing… didn’t feel like being trapped at all anymore.
To my favorite author, I have another Akashi x oc request. I hope I don’t ask for many~~
It’s like a little age gap just 2-3 years, Akashi is older. Oc is going to travel abroad in UK, and basically she studies there and learns new things about the country. The next day, she went to the library and tried to reach a book, but suddenly Akashi wanted also the same book. So somehow they need to choose who gets the book and more, and with this the story between both begins. Since akashi is older I thought he would be there because of his fathers business, since I understood from the series that they’re very well off, and he also speaks English well. 🫡
I love how popular akashi is here on this blog :). Sorry I only got around to writing the story now. Thank you for requesting @piplup04
___ _ _ _
It sounds crazy, but my wingman was a book...
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Akashi Seijuro x fem!reader
summary: See request above
genre: romance, college or higher (i didnt really define)
word count: 4.7k
It smelled faintly of paper and rain. In a good way. You always liked the smells of a fresh summer rain. It was something nostalgic. It reminded you of your days in Japan. Good days, days that now belonged to your memories. The smell filled the whole library. And you liked it that way. It was like a little souvernir. It made everything feel quieter, more focused—like the world outside the tall windows didn’t quite exist.
Those damned midterms were approaching, and your usual routine had drastically intensified: lectures, notes, coffee, then repeat. Studying abroad in the UK had been your dream for years, a stepping stone toward becoming someone sharp, creative, and untouchable in the marketing world. A dream you always told the boys about. Daiki used to think it was stupid. he always said, if he wanted to buy new shoes, he would get out and buy new ones. There was no need for him to listen to marketing. And when he actually needed to buy new basketball trainers, well he bought the nike ones...the ones with the cool ads in tv. You had teased him about this non stop.
And you got here. A beautiful grades list and curriculum made it possible. Well, you were getting there. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you scanned the towering bookshelf, fingers trailing along spines until you found the one you needed: Consumer Behavior in Global Markets.
“Ugh, finally,” you murmured, reaching for it. But the book didn’t move. Your hand stilled: WTF. Was this a prank or something. If it was, it wasnt funny. There was resistance—firm, deliberate. Someone else was holding it too. You blinked, confused, and looked up.
And just like that, the quiet library shattered,“…Seijuro?”
Beautiful red eyes met yours, steady and unmistakable his. For a moment, neither of you moved.
___ _ _ _
It had been years—since the Teiko graduation, since everything changed, since everyone went their separate ways. Kagami went to play Basketball in the USA with Kuroko later following to stay with his boyfriend. Daiki got accepted as a police officer, but got restationed in another part of Tokyo. Mura-chin became a chef, travelling a lot for work. Back then, Seijuro had stood composed as ever, already stepping into a future that seemed carved out for him.
And now he was here. In the same place as you. Holding the same book.
“Y/n,” he said, your name as precise as you remembered,“What a coincidence.”
A coincidence. You almost laughed.
“You’re… here?” you managed instead. Well, brilliantly done. Truly. You saw him after all those years and that was what came out of your mouth.
“I study business economics here,” he replied calmly, as if that explained everything—which, honestly, it kind of did,“It aligns with my family’s expectations.”
Of course it did. Because some things never changed. Your grip on the book loosened slightly, but neither of you let go entirely. It left you standing there, awkwardly tethered by hardcover and history.
“I’m doing marketing,” you said quickly,“Well—trying to, anyway.”
“I see.” His gaze softened, just a fraction,“That suits you. I remember how much you used to tell us about it.”
The comment caught you off guard,“…It does?”
“You were always perceptive. Understanding people, trends—it’s a natural extension.”
There it was: That quiet, unnerving accuracy. You huffed a small laugh,“Somehow you managed to not changed at all, have you?”
“I could say the same to you,” he smiled. A pause settled between you. Full of years not spoken, of games no longer played, of friendships that had quietly dissolved into memory. And yet—
Here you were. Still holding onto the same thing. “…We should probably let go,” you said, glancing at the book.
“Ah,” he murmured, as if noticing it for the first time. Neither of you moved. Then, almost at the same time, you both laughed—soft, surprised.
“You can take it,” you offered. “No,” Akashi replied smoothly, "I think we can share.”
Your heart did something strange at that,“Share? A book? Want to rip it in half....?”
“If you don’t mind studying together, that is,” his smile widening at your attempt of a joke.
You hesitated. Not because you wanted to say no—but because saying yes felt like opening a door you hadn’t realized you’d missed.
“…I don’t mind.”
___ _ _ _
It started with that book. Then another. Then the book became a coffee. Followed by conversations that stretched longer than either of you planned. Akashi was still… Akashi. Composed, observant, always a step ahead—but here, with you, there was something softer woven into the edges. He listened more than he spoke. He asked about your ideas, your goals, your absurd marketing case studies.
And he remembered things. The small things, like how you took didnt like coffee, but loved hot chocolate. Or the way you frowned when reading something you disagreed with.
“You’re doing it again,” he said one afternoon.
“Doing what?”
“That expression.” He tilted his head slightly. “You’re about to argue with the author.”
You blinked at him,“I am not—”
You paused,“…Okay, maybe I am.”
A faint smile curved his lips,“I thought so.” God. That smile. It was so not fair. “You’ve gotten… nicer,” you said, narrowing your eyes.
“I see.” His gaze lingered on you, thoughtful,“And does that disappoint you?”
The question landed softer than it should have. “…No,” you said quietly.
It didn’t. If anything, it made everything feel… easier. More real, it felt more like himself.
___ _ _ _
Coffee turned into weeks. Then months passed. Somewhere between shared notes and late-night study sessions, something had changed. Well maybe not changed, but something that had been always there, got more prominent. It was in the way his hand would brush yours when passing a pen—and linger a second too long.
In the way he started walking you back to your dorm, even when it was out of his way. In the way your conversations drifted from academics to everything else—dreams, fears, the future.
“You’ll return home eventually,” he said one evening as you sat by the river, the city lights reflecting in the water.
“Yeah,” you replied,“Probably.”
“You sound uncertain.”
“I just…” You exhaled. “I worked so hard to get here. I don’t want to lose that version of myself when I go back.”
Akashi was quiet for a moment.
“You won’t,” he said. You glanced at him,“How do you know?”
“Because you chose this path on your own,” he replied simply,“That hasn’t changed.”
Your chest tightened. “And what about you?” you asked. “Are you just… following what’s expected?”
A faint pause. Then— “Partially.”
He was super honest. As always. “But not entirely,” he added. “There are… variables I did not anticipate.”
Your brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”
His gaze shifted to you, steady.
“You,” he said. The world went very, very quiet.
“…Me?”
“Yes.”
Your heart was suddenly loud.
“You’ve altered my expectations,” Akashi continued, calm as ever—and yet not. There was something warmer beneath the surface now, something unguarded. “Reconnecting with you was not part of my plan. And yet… I find it difficult to consider a future where you are absent.”
You stared at him. Processing what he just said. And therefore failing to process. “Akashi, are you—”
“I am,” he said gently,“If you feel differently, I will—”
“I don’t.”
The words came out too fast. Way too honest, so you froze.
“…You don’t?” he repeated softly. You shook your head, breath unsteady. “I mean—I don’t feel differently. I—God, that sounded confusing.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face.
“It did.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
You groaned, covering your face for a second before forcing yourself to look at him again. “I like you,” you said, more quietly this time. “I think I always kind of did. And now it’s just… worse.”
“Worse?” he echoed.
“Stronger,” you corrected quickly,“I meant stronger.”
“I see.” His hand reached for yours. Not by accident this time. He was always intentional with what he did. Warm. “Then we are in agreement,” he said.
You squeezed his hand, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.
“Looks like it.”
The river shimmered beside you, the city alive in the distance—but for once, your mind wasn’t racing ahead to the future and your plans. It stayed here, right in this moment. This moment with him.
Can I please please request an Akashi Seijuro x reader fic. (You’re so good at writing them). Something along the lines of both him and reader being in college together and they’re close friends, reader has had a crush on him for a while and starts to act a little off or weird about it but finds out Akashi has known this whole time.
Thanks for your request. Sorry that it took me a little longer. I hope you have fun reading <3
___ _ _ _
What you didn't know was that I knew
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Akashi Seijuro x fem!reader
summary: See request above!
genre: romance, college, fluff
word count: 4.2k
He started to wonder what had caused this. This very subtle shift in your behaviour. You’d stopped being precise. That, in itself, was a problem. You were ever the chaotic person since the two of you met at Teiko Middle School. But beside that, you always tried to combat your chaos with precise planing and being organized—meticulous, even. Your notes were tidy, the schdules in your weekly planner were color-coded and aligned down to the minute. Assignments were finished days in advance.
Back at Teiko, it was something Akashi had once praised you for, a quiet nod of approval that had meant more than you ever admitted. Now? Things looked a little different. To be precise, you looked a little different.
In the beginning of the new semester, Akashi managed to save you a seat next to his regular one. He had thought of it as having his friend close by...you on the other hand sprinted across the room. Sitting with a girl you barely knew, as he had popped the question. It surely was weid, but at that time Akashi didnt think much of it.
Thinking about you and the old times, he subconsciously stared at you. You were staring at the same line in your notebook for the fifth time.
After you told him how bad your sear neighbor smelled, he asked you once again. You said yes. Akashi had laughed, saying that he at least seemed to smell nice. Which he always did.
“Are you going to keep pretending to read that,” Akashi’s voice cut in, “or would you like me to turn the page for you? Staring at it wont make it turn by itself...”
Your pen slipped,“I—what? I am reading.”
He looked with an expresiion you didnt knew,“You haven’t written anything in three minutes.”
Who were you kidding. Your head was plain right empty at this point. Whatever this expression of his was, there was no brain cell left to piece its meaning together,“…I was thinking.”
“About something unrelated to economics, I assume,” something in his eyes lit up. Just for a second. You snapped your notebook shut a little too quickly,“You don’t know that.”
Akashi didn’t answer immediately. When you looked up, he looked at you, fully focused. They way he did during games. It always felt like he could read every move and thought before it even formed in your head.
It made your chest tighten. For gods sake, this was exactly the problem.
___ _ _ _
Ever since you’d both ended up at WEIU university, picking up your friendship like no time had passed, something had changed. First you thought it was because you both were older now. More mature, well in college. But that wasnt it. You had always admired him, respected him. But somewhere between all those late-night study sessions to get you through economics and math...and all those casual walks home to your dorm....Well, the admiration had blurred into something, you feared was worse than anything: You had developed feelings for him. Deep ones, the kind of feelings, were his happiness was essential for your happiness.
Which brings us to now. Now you couldn’t function, when ever he was around. He, with his flaming red hair and charming charisma. He had that thing going for him, where he was a though, bad boy but also a charming prince in shining armour. Poison for your soul, as you loved every bit of it. You forgot things. You stumbled over words. You, apparently, forgot how to read.
___ _ _ _
“I think,” Akashi said finally, closing his own book with deliberate calm, “we should take a short break.”
You frowned, “We just started.”
“And yet your productivity is already declining,” he said with a deadpan face.
Now it was game on, you loved to tease echother. And fort the record, he started it,“…Are you calling me inefficient?”
“Nah, I’m just observing,” he replied smoothly. You huffed, leaning back on your hands. The park was quiet around you—soft wind through the trees, sunlight flickering across the pages scattered between you. It was supposed to be a cute, calm, perfectly structured study session. Akashi had invited you, because the last economics exam must be passed. Otherwise the course was counted as "failed".
Instead, your brain was short-circuiting. The reason for this malfunction?? He was sitting TOO close. Like right in front of you, your lags occassionally touching. And he? Well, he looked too comfortable. Because you liked him. A lot.
You grabbed your pencil again, forcing your attention back to your exercise sheet. Focus, that was what you needed. You could do this. You had done this many times before. Just solve the problem, write the answer, don’t think about—
“Akashi.”
“…Yes?”
The word slipped out before your brain caught up. You froze. He didn’t.
“If you have a question,”he said, tone steady,“you can ask.”
This was normal. This was fine. This was just like Teiko. You asked questions, he answered, everything stayed simple. So why was your heart pounding like this?
“I—” You swallowed,“Do you—” (Abort. Abort. Your head was screaming not to go further, it was going to ruin your perfectly fine friendship....)
“—like—” (Too late.)
“—me?”
Silence. An absolute one....the one that was crushing. Cruel even. Your soul left your body. You stared down at your paper like it might swallow you whole. Why didnt he answer? Why had you to ask him??? You needed to maneuver out of this immediately,“I meant—like, academically. As a study partner. Obviously. That’s what I meant. That’s—”
“Yes.”
You blinked,“…Yes?”
Akashi’s voice was calm. Too calm,“I like you Y/n.”
Your brain stalled,“…Oh.”
You looked up slowly. He was watching you again, but softer this time. “I was wondering,” he continued smirking a little,“how long it would take you to ask me. I guessed about three months. But it only took you half a year...love a beauty with brains..”
Your stomach dropped,“Wait—what?”
“I’ve known for some time.”
“…Known what?”
“That you like me.”
Your face burned so fast it felt unreal. “You—no, you haven’t.”
“I have.”
“How?!”
“You become noticeably disorganized in my presence,” he said, as if listing simple facts. “You avoid eye contact, then overcompensate. Your usual efficiency drops by approximately thirty percent.”
“THIRTY—?!”
“And,” he added, almost gently,“you look at me differently than you used to.” That shut you up. Because… yeah. You did. You always had, maybe. You just hadn’t realized it until it was too late. “…So you just let me suffer?” you muttered weakly, hiding your face in your hands.
“I wouldn’t call it suffering.”
“I would.”
There was a small shift beside you. When you peeked through your fingers, Akashi had moved closer. Close enough that your heart immediately lost all rhythm again.
“I was waiting,” he said,“for you to be ready to say it.”
“…I just blurted it.”
“A method,” he replied, “but an effective one.”
You let out a helpless laugh,“That’s not how this was supposed to go. I had a plan.”
“I’m aware.”
“…You knew that too?!”
“Of course.”
You dropped your hands, staring at him,“Is there anything you don’t know?” He considered that for a moment. Then he replied very simply: “How you would react when I told you I feel the same.”
Everything stopped. “…You what?,” now your head was earased of all its function. Akashi’s gaze didn’t waver. “I like you Y/n,” he said again, quieter this time,“Not as a study partner.”
Your brain fully shut down,“Oh.”
A pause.
“…I had a speech prepared,” you admitted faintly.
“I assumed as much.”
“I forgot all of it.”
“That’s also consistent.”
You groaned, covering your face again. “This is a disaster.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
You felt his hand gently pull yours away.
When you looked at him, he was closer than before—close enough that the world narrowed to just him, just this moment, just the quiet certainty in his eyes.
“You don’t need a perfect plan,” Akashi said. “Not with me.”
Your chest tightened,“…That’s unfair.”
“How so?”
“You’re making this way too easy.”
A faint smile touched his lips,“Only because you’ve made it unnecessarily difficult. A specialty of yours, huh?”
You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “I hate that you’re right.”
“I know.” A beat of silence passed—comfortable this time, warm instead of suffocating. Your notes lay forgotten between you. Your schedule? Well, ruined. Your composure? Actually, long gone...I mean he was just so...
But as his hand lingered around yours, you realized…
Maybe you didn’t mind being a little unstructured after all.
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Chifuyu Matsuno x gn!reader
summary: well headcanons
genre: romance, how the relationship would be like...
word count: 4.2k
🖤 He is loyal. Insanely loyal. You have to earn that connection first. Although I think he tends to trust people quite quickly. So once your his, YOU ARE HIS. Not in a possessive way, more in the way that he always backs you up without asking questions. Whatever happens, he will be by your side. Literally through thick and thin.
🖤 He loves to have a connection with you, especially in everyday life. That's why he loves to hold your hand and, whenever possible, to hold you and cuddle you. He loves to have a connection with you, especially in everyday life. That's why he loves to hold your hand and, whenever possible, to hold you and cuddle you.
🖤 His favourite moment as a couple is walking with Peke. You talk about everything that happened during the days when you couldn't see each other. You talk about everything: what's going on in the gang, new video games and your goals. Holding hands, of course!
🖤 He would never admit it, but he sometimes gets jealous. If you go out together and someone flirts with you or hits on you, he wouldn't say anything directly. He might discreetly move a little closer to you. BUT you would definitely see him sulking after the party night. And I think he would also be very cuddly and affectionate, as if to remind you where you belong.
🖤He protects you. His instinct to help and protect you won't let him do otherwise. But he also trusts you. He wouldn't overwhelm you with his overprotectiveness. He would intervene if necessary or if you asked him to. But he also knows that you can handle all situations you find yourself in.
🖤 It practically ceases to exist when you run your fingers through his hair (no matter how long it took him to style it that morning). It's the way you look at him with your beautiful eyes when he falls asleep on your lap again during your sleepovers.
🖤 I can't get enough of hearing you talk about your passions. So you asked him if he wanted to go shopping, and he said yes. He looked at all the outfits, helped you choose, and gave serious criticism. He also loves private fashion shows when you've been shopping on your own.
🖤 He'll have a heart attack when he sees you in his clothes. He LOVES it when you steal his clothes. They look so good on you, while subtly conveying that you belong to him and vice versa. He would pretend to be annoyed, never finding what he wanted to wear in the wardrobe... but then seeing the item of clothing he was looking for on your body... wow...
🖤 You can definitely expect night-time rides on his motorbike. Each time to a different destination. All lovingly chosen. Sometimes romantic, sometimes casual. He loves the feeling of freedom that the motorbike offers. And he loves it even more when you wrap your arms around him.
🖤 He constantly teases you! Sweet but also cheeky and sometimes a bit cheesy. This includes bad pick-up lines, him making fun of you, and endless pet names. All drenched in love and affection.
I loved reading your requests. And it was great to bring them to life. Speaking of life, things are getting more and more stressful for me, which is why I'm going to take a short break. That's why I would be happy if you wait with requests until I'm back.
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Shinichiro Sano x fem!reader
summary: If love can even change time, then it’s true love. But how far would you go for that true love? A reader would go so far as to kill anyone so that Shinichiro could save his brother. But the universe won’t allow both of them to ruin their lives...
genre: romance, no happy end, violence and murder -> If you’re not comfortable with this, skip this story! I’ve got plenty of other great stories. Please note that violence is never a solution and I do not condone it. This is pure fiction.
word count: 7.1k
The little metal bell above the shop door chimed softly, as you pushed it open. The familiar scent of oil, rubber, and something faintly metallic wrapping around you like a second home.
“Welcome—oh. It’s just you.”
You rolled your eyes at the lazy voice coming from behind the counter,“Wow, Shinichiro, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
He grinned, leaning back in his chair, one leg hooked over the other like he didn’t have a single worry in the world,“What? You are special. You just don’t need the welcome speech anymore.”
You hated how easily he said things like that—like it didn’t mean anything. Like it didn’t make your heart do something stupid and embarrassing every single time.
You’d met the Sano brothers when your parents bought the shop across the street. Nothing fancy, just a small shop selling all sorts of spare parts. It was your father’s dream. He was a real tinkerer. So it wasn’t surprising that you got to know each other quite quickly. Emma, in particular, took you to her heart straight away, seeing you as a sort of big sister. Sometimes you felt you spent more time with the Sano family than you did with your own.
“Is your brother around?” you asked, setting your bag down on the counter to distract yourself.
“Nope. Mikey ditched. Again.” He stretched, arms lifting above his head, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin. You looked away immediately, pretending to be very interested in the scratches on the countertop,“So you’re stuck with me.”
As if that’s the problem.
You forced a casual shrug,“Guess I’ll survive.”
The truth was, you came here because of him. You always had.
Ever since that day months ago when your little red bike broke down in the middle of the street and he’d jogged over, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world to help you. He’d fixed it in minutes, grease smudged across his cheek, talking the entire time like you’d known each other forever.
You hadn’t stood a chance after that. And now here you were—coming by almost every day, pretending to bring spares for small repairs, for Mikey, for anything that wasn’t the obvious truth.
Because liking Shinichiro Sano was… complicated. He wasnt mean, arrogant or something like that. He was nice and all. At times he was distant though.
The problem with him was, he was too nice, way too charming AND too… popular for your liking. The sound of giggling outside made your stomach tighten before you even turned your head.
A group of girls passed by the open shop door—well-dressed, bright, loud, highly attractive—and one of them peeked inside,“Oh! Shinichiro!”
Of course. Your fingers curled slightly against the counter.
“Be right back,” he said, already standing, already smiling. Always smiling. You didn’t look at him as he stepped outside, but you didn’t need to. You could hear it—the shift in his voice, softer, smoother, like he was tuned perfectly for moments like this.
You told yourself not to listen. But liek always, you ended up listening anyway:
“Did you think about what I said?” one of the girls asked, her voice hopeful. A pause. It was longer one than you expected. Usually he didnt need to think about what to say to a beautiful girl. Then Shinichiro laughed lightly, scratching the back of his neck—a habit you knew meant he was embarrassed,“Ah… yeah, about that…”
Your chest tightened. Of course. Another confession. Another girl. You pressed your lips together, staring at nothing in particular as the conversation continued just out of sight.
It was always like this: Different girls. Same story. It was always the same: They’d come in, or catch him outside, or wait for him after closing. And he—kind, gentle Shinichiro—would always listen. Always smile. Always let them down softly… or so you assumed.
You didn’t actually stay long enough to see how those conversations ended. Because you never wanted to watch him choose someone else.
A few minutes later, the shop door chimed again. You straightened slightly, pretending you hadn’t been paying attention at all.
“Sorry about that,” he said, stepping back in. You glanced up, expecting the same easy grin. But for a split second—just a second—the grin wasn’t there. Instead, there was something else. Something…more awkward?? Almost sheepish maybe. But then it was gone.
You frowned slightly,“Well...you’re popular today.”
“Am I?” he said, too quickly, moving behind the counter again. You tilted your head,“That’s like… the third girl this week.”
“Fourth,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Silence settled between you, heavier than usual. You studied him more carefully now. His movements weren’t as relaxed as before. He kept fiddling with a wrench that didn’t need fixing, eyes not quite meeting yours.
That was… new.
“You okay?” you asked.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he said, a little too bright. You didn’t answer right away. Because something about that reply of his didn’t feel right.
Still… it wasn’t your place to push. So instead you decided to forced a small smile,“Must be nice, getting confessed to all the time.”
He froze. Actually froze. The wrench slipped slightly in his hand.
“…Nice? Confession?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, even though your chest felt tight again. “I mean, you’ve got options. Must be hard choosing.”
There it was. You’d said it. A half-joke. A half-truth. A completely terrible idea. For a moment, he just stared at you. And then—He laughed.
“Yeah,” he said, looking away,“Something like that.”
Your heart sank. Of course. What did you expect?
You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder,“I should go.”
“Already?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve got stuff to do.” That wasn’t true. But staying felt worse. You headed toward the door, hand resting on the handle, when his voice stopped you,“Hey Y/n.”
You glanced back. He was watching you now—really watching you. “Come by tomorrow too,” he said,“I mean… if you want.”
You blinked,“Why?”
He hesitated. Then smiled again—that same soft, familiar smile that made everything confusing. “No reason,” he said,“Just… I like it when you’re here.”
Your breath caught. Just for a little moment. Long enough to make leaving feel harder than it should’ve been.
“…Yeah,” you said quietly,“Maybe I will.”
And then you stepped outside, the door chiming behind you once more. You didn’t see the way his smile faded the second you were gone. Or the way he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“…Fourth rejection this week,” he muttered to himself.
___ _ _ _
You pushed open the shop door to Sano Motors again, the familiar creak of the hinges greeting you like an old friend. Shinichiro was behind the counter, as always. Seemingly fiddling with some engine part, as usual, though he looked up and froze when he saw you.
“Y/n...you came back,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah,” you said lightly, trying not to sound too eager,“I… thought I’d check on your work.” You were really pleased a few days ago when he invited you to come back. It always felt good to get even the slightest hint from your crush that he might like you too, even if that seemed a long way off. That’s why you were happy to seize any excuse to be near him.
He chuckled softly, leaning against the counter,“Glad you did. Makes this place a lot less boring. Even though you took your time.”
You felt your cheeks warm and looked away, pretending to examine a display of tools. But before either of you could say more, the old bell above the door jingled again—not from someone entering, but from a loud clunk followed by a loud metallic click.
“Grandpa?” Shinichiro muttered,“Oh...no.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“He probably… accidentally locked the shop.” His voice hitched slightly,“And, uh… with us inside.”
You blinked,“Wait wait, we’re… what?”
Shinichiro rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish,“Yep. It’s… it’s one of those old locks. Once it clicks, you can’t open it from inside. Grandpa usually has the keys.”
Great. Just great. You sat down on the counter, crossing your arms,“So… we’re stuck? I am supposed to be back by midnight...”
He shrugged, leaning against the workbench,“Looks like it. Until morning.”
Until morning. The thought made your stomach twist. You’d imagined awkward shop visits before, but this… this was next level. How on earth are you supposed to survive spending so many hours with him? It would be so embarrassing and awkward... It was one thing to keep popping into the shop under false pretences... but this... this is beyond you. Great...
“Fine,” you said, exhaling slowly,“Then I guess we’re… roommates for the night.”
Shinichiro smirked,“Sounds… cozy.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips.
___ _ _ _
Hours passed slowly. The shop was rather quiet, except for the occasional crackling of streetlights outside. The soft ticking of an old clock in the corner. completed the soundtrack of this night. Shinichiro leaned on the counter beside you, his elbow brushing yours occasionally, each time sending a little thrill through your chest.
You’d started talking a bit about things. The motorbikes, the fact that Shinichiro had only made it as far as secondary school, and how he often wished for more for himself and his siblings. It was very honest. Very unfiltered and very endearing. It was the first time you’d spoken to him at such length. It only made him seem even more likeable to you. Even if you might have been a bit biased to begin with. How could you not be, with that charming smile, that self-confidence and those beautiful black curls? It would make any girl falter.
Then, suddenly, he leaned closer, his voice soft,“I guess now’s as good a time as any… to tell you something.”
You froze,“Tell me… what?”
His eyes met yours, serious now,“About me. About… everything I’ve been keeping from people.”
You blinked, curiosity mixing with apprehension,“Go on.”
Shinichiro took a deep breath,“I… I can plan to time travel.”
Your mouth fell open,“Excuse me?” Now hes lost it...
“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… complicated. I’ve been… trying to fix something. There’s a current time leaper, someone messing with history, and I—well—I’m trying to… undo it. Make sure things go back to the way they’re supposed to be. To make sure Mikey is like he used to be....”
You stared at him. Time travel? Your brain couldn’t catch up,“Wait… so all those times you—” You gestured vaguely, “—seemed… normal… you were… planning all this?”
“Not exactly,” he said quickly,“I wasn’t lying. I was just… hiding it. For your safety. And… for mine. For everyone involved with me.”
You leaned back, the words hitting you like a wave. And suddenly, doubt crept in,“I… I don’t know if I… like you. Or if I should like you. If you’re… fixing time, but messing with people’s lives, maybe… maybe you’re… terrible?”
Shinichiro blinked, then a slow, teasing grin spread across his face. “Terrible, huh?” He leaned closer again, his shoulder brushing yours,“I guess it depends… are you talking about the time-traveling me… or the me who thinks you look ridiculously cute sitting there, pretending to be mad at me?”
Your cheeks burned,“Shinichiro!”
He didn’t back away. Instead, he rested his chin lightly on your shoulder,“Or maybe both. Dangerous, chaotic, flirty… irresistible.”
You swallowed hard, heart pounding. Despite your doubts, despite the shock, your body reacted exactly the way you hated. You liked it. You really liked it.
“I… I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admitted softly. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes locking onto yours,“Then think about this: none of that matters if you’re here with me right now. Just us.”
You shivered—half from the closeness, half from the adrenaline of being trapped,“You really know how to make everything… worse.”
He chuckled low, his lips so close you could almost feel his breath,“Or better. Depends how you look at it.”
He couldn't believe how you reacted to it. To him flirting. He’d always thought you weren’t interested in him. That you’d rather have a guy who’d made something of himself in life. Someone you could show off. And yet here you were, standing in front of him, cheeks flushed and looking shy. Maybe he did have a chance with you after all.
After all, he’d always seen you working in the little shop across the street – or rather, he’d been watching you. The way you always moved with such purpose, the way you always knew exactly what you wanted… and that one time when you rescued the young woman from that strange bloke. You were everything he could ever have imagined: brave, friendly, helpful, intelligent and incredibly attractive too.
___ _ _ _
The night stretched on, filled with small confessions, awkward jokes, and the kind of intimate conversation that only happens when there’s nowhere to run. Somewhere between revelations and flirtation, you realized something: despite the chaos, despite the time travel, despite the shock—
You liked him. And maybe…with the way he acted towards you… he liked you back.
But tomorrow, when the lock finally gave and the sunlight crept across the shop floor, everything would be different. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face that. For now, you simply let the moment stretch, letting Shinichiro Sano’s hand brush yours on the counter.
But when the first hint of light seeped through the dusty windows, cutting across the cluttered floor of the shop, this lovely atmosphere shifted to something horrifying. You hadn’t slept much—couldn’t sleep, not with the words Shinichiro had said still echoing in your ears.
“…And once he’s gone…” Shinichiro’s voice was quiet, almost casual, but it froze you in place. You stared at him across the counter. His usual easy grin was gone. His eyes were sharp, focused, and cold in a way that made your stomach churn.
“You… want to kill...him?” you whispered, your voice shaking.
Shinichiro nodded slowly,“Not because I want to hurt anyone. But if I get full access to the time travel powers, I can… I can fix things properly. Prevent all the damage to Mikey...”
Your hands trembled,“You… you can’t just… just kill someone! That’s… that’s murder, Shinichiro! That’s insane!”
“I know it sounds… extreme,” he admitted. His tone softened just slightly, though his eyes never left yours,“But it’s the only way to make sure this timeline doesn’t collapse. That’s the only way I can… set everything right.”
Your chest tightened. You wanted to step back, to get as far from him as possible—but the locked door loomed behind you, cold metal mocking your helplessness.
“I… I can’t be here for this,” you said, your voice rising despite your growing fear,“I… I need to leave—”
“You can’t,” he interrupted gently but firmly,“Not until the lock gives. And right now, it won’t. So… all we can do is talk.”
Your pulse raced. You wanted to scream, to demand someone else’s help, but there was no one. Only him. Only this small, cluttered shop, and the weight of the impossible decision laid bare. You looked around, what could you use to make him come over to you?
Wait a minute – what were you just thinking? That was Shinichiro. Your Shinichiro... On the other hand, he’d just confessed his murderous intentions to you. And now you knew about them. He wouldn’t let you go. You were so terrified for your life that you couldn’t think straight anymore.
You swallowed hard,“And… what if you go through with it? What if you really… kill him?”
Shinichiro’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like someone you didn’t recognize—the charming, teasing boy replaced by something sharp, dangerous, resolute,“Then… everything I’ve tried to protect, everything I’ve tried to fix, finally works. But I won’t lie… it’ll change me. I know that. I won’t be the same Shinichiro you… think you know.”
A cold wave of fear hit you,“I… I don’t know if I… can stay here with you if you’re planning something like that.”
He leaned forward, a faint, dangerous smile brushing his lips,“Or… maybe it’s exactly why you should stay.”
Your stomach twisted. His words were like fire and ice all at once—thrilling, magnetic, terrifying.
___ _ _ _
Hours passed like minutes, neither of you speaking much after that. The weight of his plan pressed down on you, and you realized the truth: you didn’t just fear him. You feared what you’d do next—what choices you might make if you stayed trapped with him. Trapped with his charm and the heat he forged within your body.
By the time the sun rose, golden light spilling across the floor, your mind was racing. You perched on a stool by the counter, staring at the cluttered shop, thinking.
Call the police? You could… report him. But would they believe the story about time travel? About a man who can jump across years? And what if he didn’t kill anyone yet… but you ended up betraying him, or… worse?
Help him? Could you? Would it make you complicit in murder, or… could it save countless lives if his plan actually worked? And… could you even trust him? Could you trust yourself?
You chewed your lip, heart hammering. Shinichiro stirred beside you, yawning, stretching, looking deceptively normal again—like the boy from the shop you’d liked for months. The same one who flirted endlessly, who made your heart race with every word.
But the thought of what he’d just confessed… the thought of what he planned… made your stomach knot. You had a choice to make. You didn’t know if you could choose the right one.
___ _ _ _
The click of the lock echoed like a death knell, when the old door finally gave way. You bolted out before Shinichiro could even react, the fresh morning air hitting your face like a splash of cold water. You needed it. It made you awake. exactly what you needed.
You ran without looking back, heart hammering, mind replaying every word from last night. His confession. The plan. His cold, determined look.
All day, you couldn’t stop thinking. You wandered the streets aimlessly, eyes on the pavement, hands gripping your bag as though holding it tighter could hold back the swirling thoughts inside your head.
Could he really do it? Would he?
Every instinct screamed yes and no at the same time. Deep down, a part of you refused to believe Shinichiro, your Shinichiro, could truly go through with murder.
Another part—terrifyingly strong—felt drawn to the idea that maybe, just maybe, you were powerless to stop him. He was a real tough guy, and when you looked at Mikey... just how much of that was in Shinichiro... probably more than you’d care to admit. Blimey, he was the leader of a gang!
___ _ _ _
By evening, as the sun dipped low, casting a gold and sharp shadows over your city, your decision crystallized: You would follow him. To understand. To witness the truth. To witness, that he wouldnt do it. That he was the good and charming person you fell i love with.
You trailed him silently, careful to stay in the shadows, heart thudding every time he paused, every time he spoke to someone you couldn’t yet see. He moved with his usual grace, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a dangerous energy in his eyes.
Following him wasn’t without risk. Who knew what he’d do to you if he found out? That’s why you’d borrowed the old crowbar from your father’s shop. As a precaution. In the quiet hope that you wouldn’t need it.
Finally, you saw him—standing across from the homeless man he’d spoken about. The man looked to be about forty. His clothes were tattered and he was wearing several layers on top of one another – a pitiful attempt to keep warm. His long hair had already started to stick together because it hadn’t been washed for so long. Shinichiro’s voice carried, low and sharp, anger lacing every word,“I’ve told you before! You don’t understand what’s at stake! This can’t go on!”
Your chest tightened. You couldn’t make yourself step forward. Not yet. He paused, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time, your hope flared. Maybe he won’t do it. Maybe… maybe he can still stop himself. Then the man snatched after Shinichiro. He attacked him, tried to protect himself.
But with this something inside you snapped. Impulse, love, desperation… it surged like fire. Without thinking, without reasoning, you grabbed the crowbar. The heavy metal suddenly felt so light in your hands. You needed to help him.
And before you could even process it, you swung.
The crowbar connected with a sickening thud, and the world seemed to stop. Shinichiro’s eyes widened in shock, but not at you—not yet. He had been focused entirely on the homeless man.
The man crumpled, unconscious, the danger passed in a blink. The lifeless body ling on the ground, while a pile of crimson red blood formed around the head. And then it happened. Shinichiro staggered, hands trembling, and his body lit up with a strange, pulsing energy—the full power of time travel, the power he had sought.
You stumbled back, eyes wide, chest heaving. You had done it. You had… done it for him.
Shinichiro whipped around, finally noticing you, and his voice cracked in disbelief,“Y—Y/N?!”
Your hands shook, crowbar slipping slightly from your grip,“I—I… I… I had to!” Your words were frantic, breathless,“I—I he wanted to attack you....I— did it for you! Because… I love... you!”
He stared at you, shock and horror mirrored in his eyes. Not at his power, not at the unconscious man—but at you.
The gravity of what you’d done hit you all at once. The murder—or whatever you’d convinced yourself it was—was real. You had crossed a line you couldn’t take back.
“I… I didn’t…” Shinichiro stammered, voice trembling,“I… I didn’t ask you to—”
Tears welled in your eyes,“I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand anything happening to you! I thought… I thought you wouldn’t… I thought…”
The silence between you stretched, heavy and suffocating. Outside, the city moved on, unaware of the chaos in a quiet corner alley.
Shinichiro knelt beside the man, checking him over, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the realization that you had done the unthinkable—all for love.
And now… there was no turning back.
___ _ _ _
Shinichiro stood in the alley, the noise of the city around you fading into the back. His body still pulsed with that strange, electric energy—the full manifestation of the power he had sought for so long. The opportunity to safe his brother. And beside him… you. Shivering, pale, and trembling, your hands still gripping the crowbar.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The unconscious man lay a few feet away, harmless for now, but a grim reminder of what had just happened.
Finally, Shinichiro’s voice broke the quiet, low and strained,“Y/N… why?”
You choked, words barely coming out,“I… I thought… I thought you wouldn’t do it... I thought he would attack you...I… I love you, Shinichiro! I didn’t want you to be hurt… I just…” Your voice cracked,“I just… I wanted to protect you!”
He took a step toward you, but hesitated, eyes wide with a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief,“You… you hit him? For me?”
You nodded, tears streaming down your face,“I—I know it’s horrible. I… I can’t believe I did it. I… I didn’t think… I just—”
Shinichiro ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. His expression was unreadable for a moment—then a flash of anger, confusion, and pain flickered across his face,“Do you even understand what you’ve done, Y/n? That’s… that’s crossing a line! There’s no coming back from this!”
“I… I know,” you whispered“I… I didn’t think. I just… wanted you safe. I… love you.”
The words hung between you. And despite the horror of your actions, despite the guilt weighing down on your chest, Shinichiro’s gaze softened—for just a second.
“Y/n…” he said quietly, almost a whisper,“I… I never wanted you to do this. Never. It was my burden to bear.”
You bit your lip, shaking,“I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you carry that burden alone.”
A tense silence followed. You could feel the energy radiating from him, almost too intense to breathe near. The power was intoxicating, dangerous, alive—and now it was in him fully. And you… had triggered it.
He finally stepped closer, eyes searching yours,“And now… we’re stuck in this. Together. With what you just did. You… you could’ve ruined everything.”
“I know,” you said, voice barely audible,“I… I don’t know what to do now. I… I can’t take it back.”
Shinichiro’s expression softened, but the weight in his eyes didn’t leave. “No. You can’t. And I… I can’t lie. Part of me… I can’t stop thinking about how… reckless you were. And yet…” His lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile,“…I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
You felt your heart squeeze painfully. He still… he still feels something for me.
“Shinichiro,” you said, trembling,“I don’t know how I can… love you, and feel this way… and know what I just did is… wrong. I don’t know if I… even like you… or hate myself for doing it.”
He reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering against your cheek,“Y/n… love isn’t always neat. It’s messy. And dangerous. And… maybe this is messy, maybe this is dangerous, but…” He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours,“…I feel it too. Even now.”
Your breath hitched. The tension, the fear, the guilt—all of it collided with the flutter in your chest. Despite everything, despite the horror of your own actions, the pull toward him was undeniable.
For a little moment, the world narrowed to the two of you, the alley around you fading into shadow. And yet, you knew—once the adrenaline faded, once the reality of what you’d done sank in—you would have to face the consequences.
But for now… you allowed yourself to stay close, letting his warmth brush against you. Because despite the guilt, despite the terror, despite the chaos of time and morality… you both felt it. The connection that had always been there, now tangled with the unthinkable, raw reality of love and violence.
And deep down, you wondered… could love ever justify what you had done?
___ _ _ _
Shinichiro sat alone in the dimly lit shop, the hum of the city outside barely reaching him. His hands trembled as he clutched a small device, the mechanism that allowed him to leap through time. Every attempt had failed. Its been weeks, since you killed the homless man and he gained the full time leaping powers...But yet, every leap he took to save his brother ended in frustration, a cruel reminder that some things couldn’t be fixed easily. No matter what he did, Mikey just couldn't seem to get a happy ending.
But worse than failure were the glimpses of possible futures—nightmarish, impossible to forget. He had seen too much. They haunted him in his sleep. Every. Damn. Night. Sometimes even in the broad daylight.
One leap showed you standing over bodies, cold and methodical, a serial killer shaped by circumstances he hadn’t yet prevented. A circumstance made possible because you lost all inhibitions.
Another future placed you in a sterile room, muttering to yourself, fractured by mental anguish he could hardly bear to imagine. Every possible variation, every desperate attempt to alter the timeline, only led to horrors—horrors that would one day touch you if left unchecked.
He didn’t tell you. How could he? How could he admit that the person he cared about most, might one day become… something unrecognizable? That the very person he loved might carry unbearable pain—or worse—because of the burden of his plan?
He wondered again whether he would have turned out this way if he’d killed the man himself... probably. It just seemed fair. But not like this, not for you. He didn’t want that. He wanted to see you happy. With your dreams and goals, which now seemed out of reach.
Shinichiro clenched his jaw, staring at his refelction in the shop windows. I can’t let this happen to her. I won’t.
He whispered to himself, voice barely audible,“Next leap… next leap, I’ll fix this. I’ll take this burden off her… no matter what it takes...Even if it takes Mikey away from me....”
The weight of his resolve pressed down on him like iron, but underneath it all was a fragile, trembling hope: that he could save not just his brother, but you too—from a future no one should endure.
And yet, as he prepared for the next leap, a part of him wondered… could he really control fate? Or was he about to drag both of you even deeper into the chaos of time?
___ _ _ _
The world twisted around you, colors stretching and folding like liquid, the hum of energy vibrating through your bones. You felt Shinichiro’s hand brush against yours—not intentionally, perhaps, but a lifeline in the chaos.
“We’re… leaping?” you shouted over the roar, trying to keep your balance.
He nodded, eyes fixed ahead, jaw set with determination,“Yeah. This is it. The one that will… fix everything.”
Your stomach turned as the world bent, time itself folding. For a moment, you thought you’d fall forever, your mind catching glimpses of futures that might have been—dark, twisted, terrifying.
It had been an accident. You should have seen him. You needed to talk to him. He was the only one you could talk to about it. The weight of what you’d done was crushing your shoulders. You wanted him to hold you, to tell you that none of it had happened. You wanted to feel safe and loved.
But when you flung open the front door, a sea of light greeted you. Shinichiro was in the middle of time leaping again.
So now here you where. You saw the horrors Shinichiro had tried to shield you from: the reflections of yourself, broken and lost in ways that made your chest ache. And yet, in the chaos, his hand tightened around yours.
“You’re not alone,” he shouted, voice cracking over the turbulence,“I won’t let it happen. I promise!”
Then the world snapped.
___ _ _ _
The next moment, the air was still. Morning sunlight poured through the shop windows, ordinary and warm. You were sitting on a stool, hair messy, hands trembling, and… nothing else had changed. The chaos, the crowbar, the unconscious man—it was all gone.
You blinked, heart hammering,“Shinichiro…?”
He appeared beside you, breathing heavily, eyes wide,“Y/n… we did it. I think… I think it worked.”
You looked around. The shop was exactly as it had been before any of the horrors had begun. The world felt… right. Clean. Safe. Like someone had pressed a reset button on everything.
Your voice trembled,“Everything… it’s… back to normal?”
Shinichiro swallowed, a faint, relieved smile tugging at his lips,“Yeah. I think… it’s all gone. All the terrible things… everything we feared… it’s… gone.”
You exhaled shakily, sitting back, letting the sunlight wash over you,“I… I don’t know what to feel.”
He leaned close, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You can feel whatever you want,” he whispered,“Because… I’m here. And… I’m not going anywhere.”
You stared at him, your chest tightening as all the emotions of the past days—fear, guilt, love, despair—crashed together,“Shinichiro… I… I thought… I thought I ruined everything. I did something… horrible…”
He shook his head gently, cupping your face in his hands. “No. None of it matters anymore. Not like it did. You were brave. You… loved me, even in the chaos, even when it was wrong. That… that’s who you are. That’s what I love.”
Tears welled in your eyes, and you let them fall, leaning into his warmth. “I… I love you too,” you whispered,“I… I always have. Even when I was terrified… even when I hated what I did.”
He pressed his forehead to yours, voice trembling with honesty,“I know. And… that’s why I can’t stay. Not here. Not in this timeline. You… you deserve to live your life without… any of the burden I’ve carried. You deserve joy. Happiness. Love. All of it.”
Your heart sank,“You… want to leave me?”
“I want to stay here for you, in your heart,” he said softly,“But I… I have to return. To make sure the timeline stays safe. To make sure… the future you live is full of light and love. I love you too much to risk it.”
You blinked, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Even after… everything? After all the terrible things? What about Mikey.... I mean you did all of this for him...”
“Especially after everything,” he whispered,“Because love… real love… means wanting what’s best for the person you care about, even if it hurts you. And for Mikey...I fear there is nothing I can do...And I cant stand to loose two people dear to me at the same time.”
You reached for his hands, gripping them tightly,“Then… stay in my heart. And I’ll carry you there. Always.”
He smiled, a mix of warmth and sorrow, and brushed his lips gently against your forehead. “Always, Y/n. I’ll always be there.”
The shop around you seemed to glow in that quiet, ordinary morning light. The weight of guilt, of fear, of impossible decisions… lifted. Time was cleansed. Morals were restored. And in that small, shining moment, two hearts—torn, messy, and human—found a fragile peace together.
And even though the future was uncertain, even though Shinichiro would leave this timeline to protect you, love lingered. Real, unwavering, and whole.
It wasn’t the ending you’d hoped for, but the ending that was meant to be from the start. The ending that had been foreseen before two young adults started messing with time.
And who knows, perhaps the Shinichiro from this timeline might fall in love with you all over again.
___ _ _ _
As always I love to hear from you guys. Leave me a comment <3
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3 // Guys, it turned out so cute. Like, low-key, I love it. I think his character comes across well. What do you think? I'd love to hear your feedback.
pairing: Aomine Daiki x fem!reader
summary: When two idiots like each other, there is wild flirting, bets are made and things get chaotic. Luckily, a surprising realisation dawns on them during a day at the beach together: pictures only reflect reality!
genre: romance, beach, KnB Universe
word count: 4.8k
If there was one thing that could always be found in Daiki Aomine’s room, it was chaos. Basketballs. Sneakers. Empty snack bags. During the week, everything was simply scattered all over the room. It was like a war zone, much to his mother's dismay.
If you let your gaze wander around the room, a few things would immediately catch your eye: the azure blue bed linen, the basketball hoop above the bed AND the many posters of attractive, scantily clad girls from Idol magazines. Lots of them. Lots and lots of them.
Not normal magazines. No. The kind filled with very pretty girls with shiny hair, perfect smiles, and poses that made you roll your eyes so hard it physically hurt. Especially the fact that most of them wore nothing more than a bra or bikini. He was such a lecher.
It bothered you. It really bothered you. Especially because you yourself would never look like those models. You were a pretty girl. But without magazine retouchers, perfect lighting and high-end make-up. Sometimes you wondered if he only liked women like that... if so, that would be the end of you.
You may or may not have been completely smitten with him. Unfortunately. He was a total hot mess: bad grades, super intelligent, tall and handsome, bored and super sexy. Since you didn't look like those girls, you would probably have to forget about your crush. You didn't stand a chance against them.
___ _ _ _
You stood in his doorway, arms crossed, watching him flip through one like it was the most important book ever written.
“Wow,” you deadpanned,“Fascinating literature.”
Aomine didn’t even look up,“Mm.”
Wakamatsu had once again ordered extra lessons. This happened from time to time when Akashi was once again in danger of failing the school year. Sometimes you cursed Wakamatsu... after all, he had brought you into this basketball universe full of beautiful men. Without him, you would now be single, happy and definitely with more time on your hands. Currently, you thought about Daiki every minute... even though it was pointless. He was hopeless. And yet you loved every minute of it.
The little moments in the classroom, or when you came by to take photos for the school newspaper. When you saw him, your heart beat faster. And when Wakamatsu asked you to tutor Daiki, you couldn't say no.
You walked over and leaned down, peering at the page,“Page 42, huh? Ah yes. The classic "Girl leaning against a sports car for absolutely no reason other to appeal to dudes" pose.”
Still nothing. He flipped the page like he didnt hear what you just said. You snatched the magazine out of his hands. Now he looked up,“Oi.”
You held it above your head,“Aomine, I’m serious. Don’t you ever get bored?”
“With what?”
“This!” You shook the magazine,“You’ve seen like a thousand girls posing the exact same way...Looking the exact way.”
“They’re not the same,” he said lazily.
“Oh?,” you questioned him. He pointed,“This one’s wearing blue and has blonde hair, totally different.”
You stared at him,"God...you’re unbelievable.”
He stretched his arms behind his head, completely unbothered,“You’re the one who came over just to complain.”
You leaned closer, eyes narrowing,“Ugh, I came over so we could study...so you can actually pass school....But fine.”
Aomine blinked. You smiled sweetly,“Then I have a proposal.”
“…That sounds suspicious.”
“You like looking at pretty girls, right?,” a sly plan formed in your head.
“Yeah,” he replied, already turning to his magazine again.
“So it’s only fair that I get to look at handsome guys also.”
His eyebrow twitched. You continued innocently,“But I don’t see any around.......There is just...you...”
Silence. Aomine slowly sat up,“…What’s that supposed to mean?”
You shrugged,“I mean, if you’re gonna sit around reading about attractive people all day, shouldn’t you try becoming one too?”
His eye twitched again,“Oh?”
“Yeah.” You tapped his shoulder, “Work out more. Train harder. Get abs or something. So I can look at something pretty too.”
“I already play basketball,” he exclaimed.
“You also nap during practice,” you beat his stupid argument.
“That’s called conserving energy.”
“Sure it is,” you chuckled. You leaned close to his face,“Think about it. You look at pretty girls.”
You poked his chest,“I look at a handsome guy.”
“Fair trade.”
Aomine stared at you. Then he smirked,“You wanna look at me that bad Y/n?”
You leaned back instantly,“In your dreams, Aomine. Youre a loser. We both know it.”
He laughed,“Oh, you definitely wanna look.”
“You wish,” you tried to safe yourself.
“You literally just said it.”
“I said handsome guys,” somehow you didnt have any more arguments.
“Ouch,”he expressed his opinion. You could be a beast, a new side of you. He liked it.
You grinned,“Guess you’ll have to try harder.”
___ _ _ _
From that day onward, something very strange happened. Aomine started training more. Like… a lot more. Push-ups. Running laps around his house. Suddenly doing extra basketball drills. He even went to the schools gym to lift weights.
Kagami stared at him one day in the gym,“…Are you dying?”
“No.”
“Then why are you doing sit-ups at 6 a.m.?,” Kagami was totally confused. This was abnormal behaviour.
Aomine grunted,“Shut up Bakami.”
Meanwhile, you watched all of this with a suspicious squint. You were on your way to art class. It was beneficial that the fitness room, also known as the gym, had a large glass front. Your girlfriend Ellie was also thrilled about this fact, especially that the boys visited each other to play sports. Since the Too Academy was well equipped, they were often here.
___ _ _ _
You found him one afternoon doing pull-ups,“…Wow.”
He dropped down and wiped sweat from his neck,“You impressed?”
You walked around him like a scientist examining a specimen,“Hmm.”
“What?,” he said indignantly.
“Well, you might almost qualify as a handsome guy now,” you finally admitted.
“Almost?,” now it started to provoke him. You playfully warned him,“Don’t get cocky”
He leaned closer,“You’ve been watching though. So it's worth seeing.”
Your face warmed,“I have not.”
“You literally came to the gym three times this week.”
“I like the air,” you tried to joke.
“There’s no windows stupid.” Why did he always have to be so intelligent and quick-witted?
“…Shut up,” you demanded. He laughed loudly. You shoved him.He shoved you back. It was always like that between you. Neither of you noticed that both your hearts were beating way too fast.
___ _ _ _
A few weeks later…Everyone went to the beach. As always, the "brilliant" team-building ideas came from Kuroko and Satsuki. Packed to the brim and squeezed together, you guys travelled by city bus. Man, Kuroko, you couldn't go to karaoke. Seeing Daiki without his shirt would have been bad enough before. But now... after countless workouts... you'd probably sink into the sand out of embarrassment. What if he saw you staring at him?
Sun. Waves. Chaos. The motto of this afternoon. The quiet fizzing of the soda cans blended perfectly with the sound of the waves and the noises on the beach.
Kagami and Aomine were already in the water arguing about volleyball rules. It's incredible that the boys can play something other than basketball. Even though Satsuki said they wouldn't last longer than five minutes.
“You’re cheating!” // “That’s not cheating!” // “You spiked it at my face!” // “That’s strategy!” Some of the snippets of conversation that reached you girls on the beach. You sat on a towel watching the disaster. The beautiful disaster:
Aomine jumped up and spiked the ball. Water sprayed everywhere. His hair was wet. His shoulders glistened in the sun.
You looked away immediately,“…Stupid handsome idiot.”
You had to distract yourself, otherwise it would happen again. How embarrassing. Your eyes followed the towel next to yours: dark blue. It was Daiki's. Lime elderflower soda, sunscreen and clothes scattered carelessly next to his sneakers. Then something caught your eye:
His bag. It was half-open. And inside…Magazines.
Of course. You groaned,“Seriously, Aomine?” He would probably never change that side of him. Horny lizard.
Then curiosity got the better of you. You opened one. Flip. Flip. Flip. Models. More models. More poses.
You sighed,“God Daiki, youre so predictable.”
Then something slipped from between the pages. A tiny little photo. A polaroid. You picked it up. And froze.
It was you. A candid picture. The one you took together at the school's last summer party. You were sitting on the school steps laughing at something Momoi had said behind the camera. Sunlight on your hair. Eyes closed mid-laugh.
Your heart stopped,“…What?”
You flipped the magazine again. Another one: You holding a drink, you reading under a tree, you tying your shoelace in the gym.
Your brain short-circuited,“AOMINE?!”
A huge splash. He turned,“What?!”
You stormed toward the water holding the photo. His eyes widened instantly,“…Oh.”
“Oh?!”
Kagami slowly backed away,“Uh… I’m gonna go drown over there.”
You waved the photo,“EXPLAIN.”
Aomine rubbed the back of his neck,“…It’s not what it looks like.”
“You have secret photos of me hidden in your magazine stash.”
“Okay it is exactly what it looks like,” he admitted. You stared,“…You creep.”
“You were never supposed to find those!”
“YOU PUT THEM IN ONE OF THEM FILTHY MAN MAGAZINES I CONSTANTLY COMPLAIN ABOUT!”
He groaned,“I panicked!”
“About what?!,” you asked seriously in tone. He muttered,“…You.”
You blinked,“…What?”
He scratched his cheek,“…You kept teasing me about pretty girls.”
“Yes...and?",You were curious to hear the excuse he would come up with now. It had to be something good if he wanted to wriggle out of it.
“And I didn’t want you to know…”
“…know what?,” you pushed him further. He sighed,“That the only one I actually enjoy looking at is you.”
Your brain completely shut down. Silence. What...what did he say just now????
Waves. Kagami choking somewhere in the distance.
Your face turned bright red,“…You idiot.”
“Yeah.”
“You absolute idiot.”
“Probably.”
You poked his chest,“You...you actually trained like crazy because I told you to become more attractive.”
“…Yeah.”
“Did you think I wanted to look at other guys?”
“…Yeah,” he admitted quietly. You stared at him. Then you burst out laughing. Hard. Aomine blinked,“What’s funny?”
You wiped tears from your eyes,“Aomine.”
“What,”now he seemed a little mad.
“I never wanted to look at other guys...I just hated the way you admired these beautiful girls...I can't keep up with that,” you voice shy and soft now.
He froze,“…Oh.”
You smiled,“You were already the one I was looking at.”
Silence. Then Aomine grinned slowly,“…So all that flirting…”
“Yep.”
“…You liked me the whole time?,” he asked smirking.
“Yep.”
“…And I suffered through 500 push-ups for nothing?”
You looked him up and down dramatically,“Well…” You leaned closer,“…they worked.”
His ears turned red,“…Shut up. And...you look like these models. For me you are just as beautiful as them. Even better.”
You laughed. Then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the water. You shrieked,“AOMINE—!”
SPLASH. When you surfaced, he was laughing like a villain,“You deserved that!”
“For what?!”
“For calling me almost handsome!”
You splashed him,“You are almost handsome!”
“Oh yeah?!,”He grabbed you again. You both nearly drowned laughing. And somewhere on the beach…A magazine layed open.
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Nines RK900 x female!reader
summary: When Fowler drags a new android into the office, the mood is initially poor. It gets even worse when you get stuck with him because Detective Reed is ill. For weeks and months, you two try to get along. Which works. I mean, who can resist those steel-blue eyes? Of course, it ends up being a hot moment between the door and the hinge, right?
genre: romance, universe of DBH, reader is friends with Hank and Connor
word count: 6.3k
notes: Guys, I've started playing DBH again. Damn, this game is still good! I'm totally fascinated again. So here's a bit of DBH content. Have fun!
Rain crawled down the tall windows of Detroit Central like it was trying to get inside. The bullpen smelled like stale coffee, wet coats, and the faint burn of overheated processors from the precinct’s android terminals. Phones rang. Someone swore across the room. A printer jammed loudly enough to make half the detectives groan.
You leaned back in your chair, boots propped on the corner of your desk, a file folder balanced on your knee.
Across from you, Connor sat perfectly straight, hands folded, LED glowing a calm blue on his temple as he read through a crime report faster than any human ever could.
Hank Anderson stood behind him, squinting over Connor’s shoulder while nursing a coffee that looked closer to motor oil.
“You know,” Hank muttered, “it’s real unsettling how fast you read.”
Connor didn’t look up,“I process written information at approximately three hundred words per second, Lieutenant.”
Hank snorted,“Yeah, yeah, show-off.”
You smirked. Connor glanced over at you,“You have been staring at the same page for six minutes.”
“Detective work,” you said lazily,“It’s called thinking. You should try it.”
“I do think.”
“Not the same way.”
Connor tilted his head slightly. That curious little gesture he did when he was trying to understand something human. Hank chuckled behind him,“You’re never gonna win that argument, kid.”
___ _ _ _
You'd been a detective for a year and a half now. It was a job you'd worked your arse off for. But you never imagined you'd end up working in the same office as an old man and an android.
But you wouldn't want to swap. You had grown so fond of both of them: Hank with his grumpy manner and Connor with his naive, endearing world view and funny comments.
They made everyday office life better every time... especially when Gavin was around. He could never resist making comments about your bum. Great, sexualisation in the workplace... what more could women want?
Luckily, Connor always stood up for you. He was just a lovely person, er, android.
___ _ _ _
Before Connor could reply to Hanks statement, the bullpen doors slid open.
A ripple moved through the room. Just the subtle shift that happened whenever someone important walked in.
You glanced up. Captain Fowler stepped inside, looking about as thrilled with life as usual. Behind him—Your boots slowly dropped off the desk.
The android standing beside him was… tall. Taller than Connor by at least a few inches. Broad-shouldered. Immaculate.
Black uniform. Sharp lines. Perfect posture. His LED glowed a cold, steady blue.
RK900.
The new prototype. The replacement. Connor noticed the silence first. His gaze lifted toward the door. For the briefest moment, his expression flickered. Then it smoothed back into neutral.
Fowler cleared his throat,“Alright, listen up department.”
Nobody listened up. Everyone was staring. The android stepped forward. Every movement was precise. Efficient. Controlled. Not a single unnecessary motion. You felt something twist in your stomach.
Because Connor moved like that too. But Connor had… softness in it now. Tiny hesitations. Human influence.
This one?
Well, this one moved like a machine built to remind everyone what androids really were. Fowler gestured beside him,“This is the RK900. CyberLife’s newest prototype.”
A murmur rolled through the room.
Someone muttered, “Jesus…”
Hank’s jaw tightened beside you. Connor remained perfectly still. Fowler continued,“He’s here to assist with investigations moving forward.”
You heard the unspoken part: Instead of Connor.
RK900 spoke. His voice was deeper than Connor’s. Cooler,“Good morning.”
It wasnt friendly, not warm. It just felt correct. His gaze swept across the bullpen, analyzing faces, posture, micro-expressions.
When those grey eyes landed on you—It felt like being scanned by a machine at airport security. Your skin prickled. He looked away almost instantly. Connor stood.
“Hello,” he said politely.
RK900 turned toward him. The two androids regarded each other. Identical design. Almost identical. The RK900 had steel-blue eyes that captivated you, as you just noticed. Different presence. Connor offered his hand,“I’m Connor. RK800.”
RK900 looked at the hand. A pause. Then he shook it. Grip firm. Efficient,“RK900.”
Connor smiled faintly,“It’s good to meet you.”
RK900 released his hand immediately,“You will be decommissioned soon.”
The bullpen froze. Connor’s smile didn’t quite fade. But it didn’t reach his eyes either,“I’m aware.”
Hank slammed his coffee cup on your desk,“Alright, that’s enough of that.”
He pushed himself upright and stalked over,“You got a name, tin can?”
RK900 turned,“RK900.”
Hank squinted,“No kidding. Got a real one?”
A beat.
“No.”
Hank snorted,“Figures.”
He jerked a thumb toward Connor,“This one’s Connor.”
Connor looked mildly embarrassed. You stood slowly. Your chair scraped the floor. RK900’s gaze slid toward you again. It was unsettling how still he was. Connor’s eyes softened when he looked at people. This android looked at you like you were a set of data points.
You folded your arms,“So you’re the upgrade, huh?”
RK900 did not react,“Yes.”
Your jaw tightened. Connor had helped save people. Had solved cases. Had bled blue blood on your crime scenes. And CyberLife was just… replacing him. Like a broken phone.
“Let me guess,” you said coldly,“Faster. Smarter. Less defective. Less human”
“Yes," the word came without hesitation.
Your nails dug into your sleeve. Hank swore under his breath. Connor looked between the two of you,“I believe CyberLife’s intention is—”
“I know CyberLife’s intention,” you cut in. Your eyes stayed locked on RK900. Up close, he was almost unnervingly perfect. Symmetrical. Flawless skin. Emotionless eyes. Nothing behind them. Connor stepped closer to you slightly. A subtle movement. Protective.
RK900 noticed. Of course he did.
“I am designed to operate without the instability issues present in earlier models,” RK900 said.
Your laugh was sharp,“Instability.”
Connor looked down slightly. Hank’s expression darkened. You stepped forward. Now you were standing directly in front of RK900. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Just watched you. Cold. Precise. Inhuman.
You leaned closer,“Here’s a tip, RK900.”
A pause. Then: “Nines.”
His head tilted a fraction,“Excuse me?”
“You’re the nine hundred model, right?” you said flatly,“Congratulations. Your name’s Nines.”
The bullpen listened. Hank smirked faintly behind you. Connor looked quietly amused. RK900 processed for exactly half a second.
Then: “My designation remains RK900.”
“Yeah, well,” you said, stepping back,“I’m not calling you that.”
You turned away,“Come on, Connor.”
Connor hesitated. His gaze flicked to RK900 once more. Something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then he followed you. Hank clapped Connor on the shoulder as they walked. Behind you, you could still feel the new android watching.
Cold. Analytical. Measuring. And for reasons you couldn’t explain—The feeling crawled under your skin. Like the beginning of a problem. One you were definitely not going to like.
___ _ _ _
The rain had eased into a steady drizzle by the time you and Nines arrived at the scene. It was yet another monday. Five weeks had passed since Fowler had brought Nines into the office. Nines had been assigned to Gavin. You had found that it was a good fit. Both were empty, unsympathetic, and somehow disgusting.
Nevertheless, they had forced Nines on you. Gavin was ill today and you had to babysit...there was nothing better to do...
The alley reeked of wet asphalt and something else—something metallic. Blood.
You sighed, tugging your coat tighter, and glanced at the RK900 beside you. His posture was immaculate. Not a thread out of place, not a hair misplaced, not a single hesitation in his stride.
“I’ll take the perimeter,” you muttered, reaching for your gloves,“You do… whatever it is you do.”
Nines tilted his head fractionally,“Assessing the scene for forensic evidence and potential threats,” he said. Right. That was one way of saying: I’m going to outdo you before you even blink.
You rolled your eyes and knelt beside the body. The victim—a man in his thirties—lay on his back, eyes wide with shock. Splintered glass surrounded him, dark red pooling against the concrete.
“Entry from the east,” you muttered, scanning the alley,“Stab wound to the chest, maybe two hits. Weapon missing. Camera on the corner—probably didn’t catch anything.”
Nines moved beside you, silent, smooth. You felt the pressure of his gaze like it was a tangible weight.
“Victim died within three minutes of attack. Weapon likely a short blade,” he said, kneeling to examine the wound. “Probability of assailant being left-handed: 63.2% based on angle of entry.”
You froze,“…Did you just calculate that on the spot?”
He looked at you. Cool. Calm. Analytical,“Yes. Based on wound trajectory, position of victim, and angle of approach.”
Your jaw tightened. You hated that he was right. You stood abruptly, brushing your gloves on your coat,“Fine. You can have the stats. I’ll handle talking to witnesses.”
Nines followed, step for step, precise and silent. Every instinct in you screamed that this should feel threatening—but it didn’t. Not yet. The first witness—a woman huddled under an umbrella—looked at him like he was a ghost. Her eyes darted to you, relief washing over her.
“Detective,” she whispered, “Thank God.”
You crouched beside her,“Ma’am. Can you tell me what happened?”
She described a figure in dark clothing, gloves, running east. The story matched the evidence perfectly. You scribbled notes, then glanced at Nines. He was already scanning the alley with infrared and chemical sensors you didn’t even know existed. His data pad hummed quietly, feeding information back into CyberLife’s servers in real time.
“And you’re… replacing Connor?” you muttered under your breath.
Nines turned toward you,“Replacement is a human designation. My function is to assist investigations and ensure maximum efficiency.”
“Right. Maximum efficiency,” you said, through gritted teeth,“Cool. Real human.”
He did not respond. You stormed toward the dumpster at the alley’s end. Something glinted in the wet shadows. A knife. Stainless steel, clean. You bent down and grabbed it with gloved hands.
“Bingo,” you said. Nines crouched beside you again, scanning the blade. “Blood analysis confirms victim match. Latent prints indicate multiple contacts, but primary contact is consistent with the assailant.”
You didn’t need to ask. You already knew he’d done it in seconds. You felt your hands clench,“Great. You’re good at this.” Nines’ eyes flicked toward you. Blue light steady. Calm. No emotion,“I am optimized to perform investigative procedures efficiently.”
You took a deep breath,“Yeah, I get it Nines...shut up.”
But for the first time, you noticed something. A tiny misalignment in his calculations—not enough to be noticeable to anyone else, but enough that your detective instincts flagged it.
“Hold on,” you said, crouching again to check the knife,“You said multiple contacts on the blade. But the angle of the blood spatters indicates a single attacker. Are you… double-checking?”
Nines paused, and something strange happened. He hesitated—a fraction of a second. “Analyzing… yes. Data is consistent with single attacker hypothesis,” he finally said.
That pause. That infinitesimal delay. It was nothing. But you saw it. You smirked despite yourself,“Even perfect machines make mistakes.”
He looked at you, unwavering. But somehow, just for a blink, it felt like he noticed your little victory.
Hank would have laughed at the scene if he were here. But you were alone, facing an android designed to be better than Connor in every measurable way—and realizing that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely untouchable.
For now.
You stood and dusted your hands. “Let’s wrap this up. We have a killer to find—and apparently, you’re going to help me do it.”
Nines followed silently, precise and obedient. Perfect. Cold. Calculated. And you hated every second of it. Except… you didn’t entirely hate the way he hesitated. Just slightly.
___ _ _ _
Detroid never slept. In the quiet moments between calls, Nines and you began to move through the chaos differently. At first, it was purely functional: you issued orders, he executed flawlessly, a machine designed for precision and efficiency.
But over the weeks, patterns emerged. When Gavin couldn’t bring Nines along, he left the two of you to work alone. At first, it had been irritating and honestly annoying. You resented every perfectly calculated motion he made, every step that somehow seemed smoother than your own, every pause that indicated he was thinking faster than any human could.
Yet, with time, a rhythm began to form. You noticed the subtle ways he adapted to your presence. How he anticipated which alleyways you’d check first, which angles you favored, which streetlights you preferred to use when scanning for witnesses. He mirrored your methods without mimicking them. He was learning, but not in the way Connor did. There was no subtle humanization, no mimicry of your quirks. He simply integrated.
Your initial resentment softened, almost imperceptibly, into grudging respect. He was… reliable. More than reliable. In situations where instinct and emotion could cloud judgment, he remained constant. And in the rare moments when the city threatened to overwhelm you, his presence was strangely reassuring.
You noticed the little things. How he waited outside rooms when you investigated interiors, silent and motionless, not because protocol demanded it, but because it seemed… considerate. How he handled evidence with meticulous care, as though he understood its significance beyond simple data. The smallest gestures, the subtlest shifts in timing, began to feel less robotic and more… thoughtful.
During long nights, when the precinct emptied and only the rain and streetlamps bore witness, you found yourself glancing at him more often than necessary. There was a quiet patience in the way he observed your work, a steady rhythm that contrasted with the chaos around you. No one else seemed to notice it. Connor and Hank couldn’t understand. They saw only the surface: the flawless machine executing tasks without faltering. But you felt the faintest tremor beneath it.
And with that tremor, a strange empathy began to grow. You could almost imagine the weight of being what he was—a tool designed to replace someone who had become indispensable, expected to be perfect at all times, stripped of spontaneity, stripped of choice.
The bond was silent. It did not need words. You were not friends, not in the conventional sense. Yet, in the quiet spaces between assignments, in the small details of shared effort, a connection took root. One built on observation, on mutual efficiency, and on the tiny sparks of recognition that neither of you could fully define.
By the time Nines anticipated your movements without instruction, adjusted his timing to your stride, or hesitated just slightly at a choice of action—just enough to let you lead—you realized that your initial animosity had begun to transform. Not into trust, not entirely. Not yet. But into something quieter, something fragile, and undeniably human: sympathy.
You couldn’t explain it. You couldn’t tell Hank or Connor. It made no sense. Nines was an android. Cold. Precise. Designed to be better than Connor in every measurable way. And yet, in this strange, shared space of the city’s night and rain and chaos, he had become… a partner in a way no one else could be.
And somehow, even if you would never admit it aloud, you found yourself wanting him there. Wanting more.
___ _ _ _
The warehouse smelled of oil, dust, and the faint tang of blood. The kind of place that made you wonder why criminals ever bothered with windows. Rain drummed against the corrugated roof, the sound masking your footsteps as you entered. Nines was beside you, silent and precise, scanning the shadows as always.
You didn’t speak at first. You didn’t need to. He anticipated your movements, stayed a pace behind, giving you just enough space to take point.
Hours ago, Gavin had called in reinforcements, but the delay left you and Nines alone. Normally, you’d have grumbled, perhaps even refused. But the tension of being paired with him now didn’t feel like resentment—it felt… necessary.
You crouched behind a stack of crates, gun drawn. “Clear,” you muttered, peering into the shadows. Nines crouched beside you, smooth, quiet,“Area is clear. Probability of immediate threat: 7.2%.”
You smirked despite yourself. “I’m glad you’re so confident.”
He didn’t respond immediately. He just tilted his head slightly, blue LED steady. Then, just as you rose to move, he spoke:
“Detective, if you proceed through the east corridor, probability of ambush increases by 42.6%.”
You froze mid-step,“You’re… actually giving me options now?”
“Yes. Calculated risks are more effective when adjusted for tactical input from human partner.”
You lowered your weapon slightly, surprised at the gesture,“You… do listen, then.”
His eyes met yours briefly, unblinking,“I am designed to adapt.”
There was no arrogance in his tone, no challenge—just a statement of fact. And yet, you felt it differently. Almost like a conversation without words, an acknowledgment.
___ _ _ _
The next half-hour passed in a tense rhythm. You moved, Nines mirrored, sometimes leading, sometimes letting you take point. It was exhausting—but efficient. By the time the suspect appeared, cornered and desperate, you realized how much you had come to rely on him.
He didn’t speak until you were safely back behind cover. Then: “Your approach to securing the perimeter was unorthodox. Yet effective.”
You chuckled, wiping sweat from your brow,“Thanks. That’s… actually a compliment coming from you.”
Nines tilted his head slightly,“It is a factual observation.”
You frowned, caught off guard by the subtle warmth in his phrasing. “Factual? Or… you mean it?”
He didn’t answer immediately, only scanned the room as though reassessing. Then: “Observation does not require emotion. However… I acknowledge your effectiveness.”
Something inside you twisted. That “however”—it was like a bridge, a recognition that went beyond cold calculation.
___ _ _ _
Later, back at the precinct, Hank grumbled at the sight of Nines helping you file reports. Connor raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by the silent partnership forming between you and the new model.
You caught Nines’ eye across the room. No words, just the faintest flicker of acknowledgment.
You realized your feelings toward him had shifted entirely. You still hated what he represented—the cold, inhuman perfection. But now, grudgingly, you felt something else creeping in. Something like… sympathy. And maybe, just maybe, that sympathy was beginning to transform into something far harder to name....especially when he was just a technical product....
___ _ _ _
It started with small things—too small for anyone else to notice, except Connor and Hank. They very detectives and your friends after all...
You didn’t realize how often you glanced at Nines during stakeouts, or how your instructions to him had softened, become less rigid, more… collaborative. Nines, in turn, seemed to adjust—not just following orders, but anticipating your movements, pausing for you to lead, even mirroring your quirks in a way that made your skin crawl and your heart beat a little faster.
Hank noticed first. You were leaning over a map in the bullpen, tracing escape routes for a suspect, and Nines had positioned himself just behind you, silent, perfect, and unnervingly close. Hank sidled up, squinting.
“You know,” Hank said slowly,“I’ve seen a lot in this precinct… but watching you two is… weird. Like, real weird.”
You didn’t look up,“We’re working.”
“No,” Hank said, lowering his voice,“You’re… staring at him. And he’s staring back at you. Like… you’re dating or something.”
You snorted,“We are not dating.”
Connor, who had been quietly filing reports nearby, tilted his head,“I am observing a similar phenomenon. Detective L/n seems to engage in behavior consistent with attachment formation.”
Hank froze,“What?”
Connor continued, oblivious to the tension,“In addition, RK900 demonstrates responses that deviate from standard operational protocols. Their interactions… suggest mutual recognition beyond procedural collaboration.”
Hank groaned and rubbed his forehead,“Connor… translate into something I can actually understand.”
You shot him a glare,“He’s saying what we already know. You’re imagining things.”
Hank leaned against the desk, smirking,“I am imagining things Y/n? Detective, every time Nines hands you a weapon or pauses while you check a room, you sigh like he just complimented you. And he’s… he’s… I don’t even know. But it’s creepy.”
Connor looked between the two of you with his usual neutral expression,“Creepy is subjective. From my perspective, it is statistically notable. Nines exhibits behavioral adaptation indicative of… emotional modeling.”
Hank threw his hands up,“See! I told you! You’re falling for a tin can.”
You ignored them both, adjusting the map and leaning a little closer to Nines without thinking. He noticed. Of course he noticed. His head tilted slightly, just enough to observe, not enough to make it obvious. But that infinitesimal movement—the first real acknowledgment he’d given beyond protocol—made you bite your lip.
Hank leaned in again, whispering conspiratorially,“Hey, Connor… do you think she’s actually… fond of him?”
Connor’s eyes widened slightly, as if processing a puzzle,“Detective L/n is demonstrating a level of fondness that appears incongruous with her prior behavioral patterns toward androids.”
Hank snorted,“Yeah… that’s exactly what I just said. I can’t believe I’m watching this.”
Nines, as always, remained perfectly still and silent. But there was something in the way he adjusted his stance when you moved—a subtle, almost imperceptible human-like consideration.
You straightened, shaking your head,“You two are ridiculous.”
Connor and Hank shared a look, silently agreeing they had entered a new and utterly incomprehensible territory. Hank muttered, “I don’t even want to know how this ends.”
Yet somehow, in the chaos of investigations, long nights, and countless stakeouts, that strange bond grew. And while Hank and Connor might mock it, you couldn’t deny it anymore: Nines had become more than just a replacement. He was… someone you were starting to care about. And the thought, horrifying as it was, made the precinct feel a little less cold.
___ _ _ _
The alley was darker than you remembered. Shadows stretched in jagged lines, and the faint hum of the city felt distant, almost muffled. Another assignment in the ash ghettos. A place you only went to if you had to. Few menachen lived here. It was a kind of living graveyard for androids who had already gone through their deviance.
You moved carefully, gun raised, every muscle coiled. Nines was beside you, silent as ever, but this time… different. A sudden noise—a metal clang, sharp and close—made him flinch. Not a mechanical reaction, not a calculated pause. A tiny, human twitch. You caught it out of the corner of your eye.
The suspect burst from the shadows, knife in hand. Nines reacted instantly, intercepting, blocking the attack. But the subtle hesitation—the split-second lag before he moved—was something you had never seen. A microsecond of doubt.
He stabilized, perfect again, disarming the man with precision, but the tiniest tremor in his grip lingered. You realized, almost with a shock, that he had felt something. Fear? Surprise? The faintest echo of instinct, not protocol.
You exhaled, a mixture of relief and disbelief. Nines straightened, eyes scanning the alley, LED steady once more—but something had shifted. The machine had faltered… and somehow, that made him feel more real. You reached out to touch his arm lightly, not thinking, and he didn’t recoil. Not immediately. He just stood there, frozen for a heartbeat longer than normal, processing the contact in a way that went beyond data.
The suspect subdued, the night silent again, you realized you were beginning to see Nines differently. He wasn’t just an inhuman replacement. He was learning, reacting… growing.
And despite yourself, a small, quiet part of you—irritatingly human—felt relieved.
___ _ _ _
Y hadn’t shown up for your morning briefing. Hank grumbled over the phone, Connor blinking in confusion. Neither of them knew you had called in "sick"—or better phrashed, you simply needed the day off.
Nines noticed this immediately. His internal systems flagged anomalies: your absence, lack of communication, no digital activity from your phone or workstation. Probability of incident affecting Detective L/n: 97.8%.
He ran simulations, checked protocols, and consulted every relevant database. No precedent fit this exact scenario. All variables pointed to one conclusion: you were in danger.
“Detective…” he muttered to himself, voice low, almost human in its tension,“You are not accounted for. You require immediate protection.”
Before Hank or Connor could intervene—before anyone could clarify—he acted. The doors of the precinct slid open, and Nines moved with precision and speed, every step deliberate, every calculation accounted for. His mission: ensure your safety.
He scanned city records, cross-referenced previous addresses, and pinpointed the location he deemed most probable: your apartment. Time was critical. Evening shadows stretched across the streets as he navigated alleys and avenues with flawless efficiency.
By the time he arrived, the sky had turned a deep indigo, the first stars blinking through urban haze. He approached your building, scanning every movement, every window, every door.
When the door opened, he froze for a fraction of a second. You stood there, illuminated by soft lamplight, relaxed in a way he wasn’t accustomed to seeing. Your royal blue silk pyjamas hugged your body perfectly. Your layered hair fell in soft waves around your face, framing it like a beautiful painting. The top fell slightly over your upper body, allowing a glimpse of your breasts. Something stirred deep within his processors—not calculation, not protocol, but… awareness. Concern. Desire. The kind of awareness he had long suppressed, considered irrelevant to his mission.
You blinked at him,“Uhm Nines… what are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He simply stepped inside, eyes fixed on yours. His posture, always perfect, seemed to tense in a way that betrayed emotion.
“You are unharmed,” he said finally, low and measured. But the usual mechanical precision was fractured by something you could feel in the air: urgency, intensity, connection.
You hesitated, unsure how to respond, heart racing despite the calm exterior you usually maintained. Nines moved closer, the line between android and human seemed blurred. The moment the door closed behind Nines, the apartment seemed impossibly small. Shadows stretched across the walls, and the hum of the city felt distant, almost unreal.
You tried to step back, but Nines moved with the same precision that always unnerved you. One hand pressed gently, but firmly, against the wall beside you, his presence suddenly unavoidable. Not threatening—but impossible to ignore.
“Detective,” he said, voice low, steady, but vibrating with urgency,“You were unaccounted for. Your absence… was unacceptable.”
You swallowed, heart hammering in a way you hadn’t felt in hours—or maybe days,“I… I just needed a day off,” you whispered.
Nines’ head tilted, just slightly. That tiny motion, almost imperceptible, made his usual perfection seem… human. The closest thing you’d ever felt to uncertainty from him.
“You were at risk,” he said, and you felt the intensity behind the words—every carefully suppressed protocol and calculation giving way to something uncomfortably close to emotion.
You wanted to respond, to explain, but words failed. All you could do was stand there, trapped by the heat of the room and the magnetic pull of his gaze. The space between you shrank, and suddenly, every breath, every heartbeat, felt amplified.
He didn’t move his hand. He didn’t speak again. He just waited, watching, processing… feeling. Not as a machine, but as something that seemed almost alive, aware, desperate to understand.
And you felt it too. The way his attention clung to you, the way your chest tightened—not from fear, not from anger, but from something raw and unavoidable.
Time stretched. The city outside continued its endless rhythm, but inside, everything had stopped. The tension was unbearable, electric, and entirely unspoken.
For a single, charged moment, neither of you acted, yet neither could break the proximity. And in that silence, in that closeness, something unnameable passed between you: a mix of need, longing, and the recognition that neither of you could turn away.
The apartment was quiet. Nines’ eyes scanned you, his posture tense yet impossibly still. Every step, every micro-movement, seemed calculated—but there was something uncalculated in his attention, something closer to curiosity than protocol.
“I have observed,” Nines said quietly, his voice low and precise, “that in situations of high emotional intensity, humans tend to express reassurance through physical gestures such as… kissing.”
You blinked, caught off guard, a chuckle escaping your lips. “Oh really?” you said, shaking your head, amusement lighting your features,“Is that your conclusion from observation, or are you just quoting movies again?”
Nines tilted his head slightly, the tiniest flicker of hesitation betraying the machinery you were used to seeing, “Observation. Emotional pattern. Attempted reassurance.”
You stepped closer, curiosity and warmth threading through your nerves. “Well… humans do tend to get a little… bold in moments like this,” you said softly, your grin playful, "Especially when you press me against the wall like that, Nines... I can feel your muscles, your heartbeat..."
You stand on tiptoe. Nines was incredibly tall at one metre ninety-five.It just came over you. Your hands grabbed the collar of his crisp white dress shirt. You pulled him towards you abruptly. His slightly metallic smell, mixed with the perfume you had once given him, drove you crazy. The closer he came to you, the more it filled your nose. Your lips crashed into his. Soft, human. You had expected more of a plastic feel.
Nines didn’t immediately process a response. His gaze lingered, analyzing, learning. And for a heartbeat, the room felt impossibly small, charged with something neither of you fully understood. He didn’t flinch. He simply… waited, absorbing every nuance of your gesture as if it were data—but somehow different, somehow more. His hands found their way to your waist and, faster than you thought, under your shirt.
And in that silent, tense moment, everything shifted. Nines wasn’t just a machine. You weren’t just a detective. For the first time, the two of you existed entirely in the intensity of the present, in the fragile space where understanding and connection blurred the line between human and android.
GOM + Kagami with a super flirtatious, shamless and sexy s/o
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: GOM + Kagami x fem!reader
summary: What do lads do when their crush has had enough and finally makes their feelings clear? And by ‘makes their feelings clear’, I mean brazen, bold and sometimes cringe-worthy attempts at flirting and shameless pick-up lines. Enjoy!
genre: romance, humor and the boys chaos as always.
word count: 5.2k
___ _ _ _
Akashi Seijuro
It was late afternoon, and the practice gym was nearly empty. You leaned casually against the railing overlooking the court, one hip popped, a mischievous smirk on your lips. Across the hardwood floor, Akashi was finishing his drills, every movement precise and controlled, radiating that cold perfection you couldn’t resist. After all, you’d been in love with this guy for about a year. But you’d decided you’d waited long enough. Now you were going all out.
“Akashi,” you called out, loud enough to catch his attention but with a sultry lilt. “You know… all this running around is cute, but it’s a little… exhausting for a genius like you, isn’t it?”
He paused mid-step, his crimson eyes glinting with that familiar piercing focus. “Cute?” he asked, voice calm, almost disarmingly so. “I’m… cute?”
You sauntered down the steps, your movement slow, deliberate, impossible to ignore. “Yes, cute,” you said, tilting your head,“The kind of cute that makes people want to mess with you… and maybe get dangerously close.”
Akashi’s lips curved into the faintest, most precise smile. A smile that could kill… or make hearts race. “And you, I presume, are someone who finds this amusing?” he asked, though the slight rise of his eyebrow betrayed his intrigue.
“Oh, I don’t just find it amusing,” you purred, leaning on the edge of the court. “I find it irresistible. Honestly… you’re way too serious. Someone needs to shake you up a little.”
He took a deliberate step closer, calm, poised, but his gaze never left yours. “You seem dangerously familiar with teasing,” he noted, almost like stating a fact, but his voice carried a subtle edge. “…Are you always this bold?”
You smirked, flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder. “Bold? Maybe. Shameless? Definitely. But it’s only fair. I mean, you’ve been stealing my attention every time I see you.”
Akashi tilted his head slightly, studying you. “…I notice many things,” he said evenly. “Including the way you look at me.”
Your grin widened, taking a step closer,“Exactly. And I love it when you notice me back.”
He paused just a breath away, his presence so commanding it made your pulse quicken. “…And you?” he asked softly, crimson eyes locking with yours. “Do you… enjoy this game?”
“Oh, I live for it,” you whispered, stepping even closer, daring. “Especially when I know you’re secretly… enjoying it too.”
The faintest smirk touched his lips, his composure unshaken but the way his gaze softened ever so slightly betrayed him. “Perhaps… I do,” he murmured, voice low, almost a whisper. “…Though I find your confidence… remarkably entertaining.”
You leaned your forehead lightly against his chest, letting him feel the playful grin in your touch. “Good,” you murmured. “Because I plan on keeping you entertained… for a long time.”
Akashi’s hands remained at his sides, perfectly composed, but the faint flex of his fingers and the tilt of his head toward you betrayed just how aware he was of your nearness. “Then… I suppose I will tolerate it,” he said, almost teasing, though his calm, elegant tone left no doubt that tolerate meant something much deeper.
A silent, electric understanding passed between you: two people completely aware of each other’s crush, neither willing to give in completely, yet both secretly relishing every dangerous, flirtatious moment.
Murasakibara Atsushi
You strolled into the gym, sunglasses perched on your head and a mischievous grin playing on your lips. The sun was shining brightly in Tokyo today; it was a full 31 degrees. Which meant you could finally wear your favourite mini-skirt again – the one that showed off your legs so well.
There he was: Murasakibara, sprawled on a bench, snacking on a giant bag of chocolate puffs like the king of laziness he was.
“Hey, big guy,” you purred, leaning against the railing just close enough to make him glance up,“You know… someone should really help you burn off all that… chocolate.”
Murasakibara blinked at you slowly, chocolate puff halfway to his mouth. “Huh?” he mumbled, already suspicious of the tone in your voice.
You sauntered down, hips swaying exaggeratedly, and plopped down beside him,“Oh, come on. I’m just saying… someone fun should make sure you get some exercise. You’re way too cute just lying around like that.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Cute?” he mumbled, nearly choking on the puff, “I’m… I’m scary! And huge!”
You leaned in closer, letting your hair brush his arm. “Scary? Please. You’re like… a soft chocolate bear. I’d cuddle you any day.”
There it was. The pause. The slow blink of his. The puff falling out of his hand. Murasakibara was frozen, and you could practically hear the gears in his head turning—or, more likely, stalling.
“You… like me?” he asked cautiously, chocolate crumbs falling from his mouth like tiny evidence.
“Oh, I don’t just like you,” you said, twirling a strand of hair around your finger,“I love making you blush, Atsushi. And trust me, you’re already halfway there.”
He coughed. Hard. “B-blush…? I’m not…!” He waved his hands around, trying to deny it, but the faint red creeping up his cheeks betrayed him.
You leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing whisper,“And if I keep talking… or touching… maybe you’ll turn even redder.”
Murasakibara froze, chocolate puff halfway to his mouth again. Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders slumped. “…You… you’re annoying,” he muttered, though the small smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.
“Annoying?” you said, putting a hand on his chest and leaning a little closer,“No, Atsushi… I’m charming. You might even… like it.”
For a moment, he just stared at you, absolutely dumbfounded. Then, muttering under his breath: “…Stupid… why do I… feel weird…”
You laughed, a playful, teasing sound. “Aww, look at you getting flustered. Don’t worry, big guy, I’m not going anywhere.” You leaned back, letting him recover… or, rather, letting him stew in the fact that he did like the attention more than he wanted to admit.
“…Maybe… give me a snack?” he said finally, pointing at your bag of chips like a peace treaty.
“Only if you let me sit on your lap while you eat,” you shot back instantly, grinning.
Murasakibara groaned dramatically, collapsing back on the bench. “…Fine… but don’t… touch me too much…”
“Oh, I’ll touch you plenty,” you said, flopping down beside him, wiggling like a cat who’d claimed its throne,“After all… someone this big and soft deserves all the attention in the world.”
And there he stayed: exasperated, blushing, eating chocolate, and secretly loving every second of your shameless flirting.
Kagami Taiga
You leaned casually against the bleachers, arms crossed, watching Kagami Taiga practice free throws. The gym smelled faintly of sweat and hardwood. Every shot he made made your heart skip—but it was his frown when he missed that got you.
“Not bad…big guy,” you said, voice dripping with teasing sweetness,“But I bet I could make that basket blindfolded… and with my heels on.”
Taiga froze mid-dribble. His brows knit together. “W-What?!” he stammered, a bright red flush spreading across his face.
You walked toward him, swaying just slightly with exaggerated charm. “Oh, don’t be shy, little Tiger. I like it when you’re flustered. It’s… adorable.”
His hands trembled slightly on the ball,“I-I’m not… flustered! Stupid!”
You snorted, smirking. “Uh-huh, sure. Here, let me help you with your form.” Before he could protest, you stepped closer, brushing your hand lightly against his arm as you demonstrated a shot. His eyes went wide. His heartbeat was suddenly deafening in his ears.
“Y-You’re… close!” he sputtered, “S-Stop invading my personal space!”
“Or what?” you purred, leaning a little closer,“You gonna get all angry on me, Taiga? And what if I like that?”
His face turned scarlet, and he yanked the ball to his chest defensively, like it were his only lifeline,“I-I said s-stop! You’re… ugh… impossible Y/n!”
Impossible. That’s exactly what you loved about him. His shyness made him so… real and so infuriatingly cute. You grinned, sitting on the bleachers just a foot away from him. “You know, I have to admit… you look really good when you’re frustrated. Extra strong and irresistible.”
“F-Frustrated?! I’m NOT frustrated! You’re just… dumb!” He was so red now that you half-wondered if he was going to combust.
And there it was—your favorite side of Taiga: the tiny, fiery ball of embarrassment mixed with raw passion. You leaned back, letting your hand brush against his without even meaning to, casually, as if it were nothing.
“Hmm… maybe I should keep bothering you, just to see that face more.”
“D-Don’t…!” He covered his face with his hands, peeking through his fingers. “You’re… you’re terrible! I hate it! N-No! I mean… I don’t! I mean—”
You laughed, bold and shameless. You loved that he couldn’t even articulate what he felt when it came to you. And he loved—though he would never admit it—that you never gave him a moment’s peace.
That became your thing. Every chance you got, you teased him: leaning too close, whispering just a bit too suggestively, laughing at his flustered protests. And every time, he denied it, protested, yelled… and secretly, he waited for the next encounter.
Because as much as he tried to act like he could resist, the truth was that your confidence, your shameless flirting, your constant teasing—it got under his skin. It made his heart race. Made him nervous, sure. But also… happy. And slowly, even shy Taiga started looking forward to the moments when you were near, waiting to tease him into a perfect shade of embarrassment.
Even if he’d never admit it aloud, he’d never let you see: you had him wrapped around your finger, and somehow… he didn’t want to fight it.
Aomine Daiki
As team manager, you didn’t have it easy. Especially since Kuroko and Taiga have been getting on well again. As well as Seirin’s training sessions, there were now also training sessions for the ‘Generation of Miracles’. And so you’d see him once a week: your crush, Daiki. A bit of a ladies’ man, though not particularly successful.
You knew from the moment Daiki Aomine walked into the seirin gym that your life had officially turned into a rom-com—but one where you were 100% the over-the-top, shamelessly flirty protagonist. And Daiki? Well… he was exactly the kind of dangerously handsome, effortlessly smug basketball ace who could make your knees wobble just by smirking.
Today, you decided: enough subtlety. Time to go full flirt mode. make your intensions clear.
As he dribbled the ball across the court, you sauntered over, deliberately slow, hips swaying like you were auditioning for some ridiculous music video.
“Hey, Daiki,” you purred, leaning casually against the wall,“You know… I think your jump shot’s… impressive. But I bet you’d look even better if someone—like me—watched a little closer.”
Aomine blinked once, then smirked, that infuriatingly confident grin spreading across his face. “You really think that’s gonna work on me?” he drawled, bouncing the ball between his hands like a cat teasing its prey.
“Oh, it’s not gonna work. It’s gonna melt your brain,” you said, stepping closer,“I mean, have you seen yourself in the mirror, or am I the only one suffering from visual overload here?”
He laughed—a low, amused sound that sent a shiver straight down your spine—and suddenly, he was walking toward you. Slow. Predatory. And your heart decided it was officially late for its next appointment.
“You know,” he said, stopping just a hair’s breadth away, laughing softly, “for someone who claims to be so confident, you’re awfully bold and cheesy. Was there no better in your book of talking to man?.”
You grinned, leaning in, your nose almost brushing his. “Bold is my middle name… well, actually it’s Dangerously Flirtatious, but let’s not get technical.”
Aomine’s smirk twitched, and suddenly he leaned forward. His hand shot out—not in a threatening way, no, but enough to gently press against your shoulder and tilt your head back.
“You’re… kind of embarrassing,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing,“But damn… I kinda like it.”
“Embarrassing? Me?” You gasped, feigning shock, covering your mouth like a proper rom-com heroine. “Never!”
He chuckled, the sound dangerously deep,“Careful, or I might start thinking you’re begging for my attention.”
Your cheeks warmed, but your grin only got wider,“Begging? Pfft. I don’t beg, Daiki. I command attention. And right now, you’re mine.”
Aomine’s eyebrow arched. “Mine, huh?” He leaned just slightly closer, the smirk never leaving his face, and whispered, “I could say the same about you. But you know… I might embarrass you more than you embarrass me.”
And just like that… you were toast. Your face burned, your knees felt like jelly, and yet somehow, your lips twitched into a grin anyway.
“Oh really?” you teased back, even though your heart was threatening to explode. “I’d like to see you try.”
The game was on. And in the world of bold, shameless flirting… Daiki Aomine was definitely your match. Every teasing comment, every smirk, every stolen glance became a hilarious battlefield where neither of you would ever surrender. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because when it came to cheesy, confidence, and flirting wars, Daiki Aomine was basically the MVP—and you were totally okay with losing… sometimes.
Kise Ryouta
You leaned against the gym railing, swinging your legs slightly as Ryouta dribbled the basketball below, sweat glinting in the gym lights. “Hey, Kise,” you called out, voice dripping with playful confidence,“Try not to break a sweat too early… I don’t want you collapsing before I even get to tease you properly.”
He froze mid-dribble, looking up at you with wide, sparkling eyes, the grin spreading across his face instantly. “Oh? Is that a challenge?” he asked, bouncing the ball on one hand while leaning casually against the court wall,“Cause you know I don’t lose to anyone… especially not you.”
You tilted your head, giving him a slow, teasing smile. “Mhm… but I might be more distracting than you think,” you purred, leaning a little closer over the railing, letting your hair fall in front of your face just enough to make him squint.
Ryouta’s grin faltered for a split second before it widened again. “You are impossible,” he said, laughing and bouncing the ball between his hands. “Every time I see you, I can’t focus. Seriously… stop being so… cute,” he added, his voice playful but with a genuine warmth that made your heart skip.
“Oh? Cute?” you said, batting your eyelashes dramatically. “I was going for irresistible, but I’ll take cute. I mean… if I’m being honest, I could stare at you all day too. Those abs? That smile? The hair? Killer combo.” You leaned even closer, smirking. “I’d say you should be flattered, but…”
Ryouta let out a loud laugh, shaking his head as he dribbled toward you. “Okay, okay, okay! You’re too much!” he said, trying to play it cool, but the way he stopped just a foot from you, breath a little uneven, betrayed him. “You know… you can’t just flirt like that and expect me to act normal!”
You leaned over the railing fully now, teasingly tapping his chest,“Why not? Are you scared?”
His eyes sparkled with both exasperation and delight. “Scared? Me?!” he gasped, hand going to his chest as if you’d punched him—though you were laughing the entire time. “No! I’m… challenged! Yeah, challenged… by your… boldness!”
You laughed, leaning back slightly but keeping your gaze locked on him. “Good. I like it when you’re challenged,” you said, voice softening slightly, almost intimate,“Means I have your attention.”
Ryouta’s grin softened into a mischievous smirk. “Oh… you have my attention alright,” he said, stepping closer so the space between you felt electric. “Every single time. You’re… trouble, you know that?”
“And you love it,” you teased, giving him a wink.
He laughed again, this time lower and more breathless,“Maybe… maybe I do,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck, flustered but undeniably happy. “But you… you’ve got me hooked, okay? Every word, every look… you’re impossible. And I’m never letting you go.”
You grinned, leaning in close enough to brush your shoulder against his. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere either, Kise.”
And just like that, the two of you fell into your usual dance—flirty banter, playful teasing, and the kind of sparkling chemistry that made everyone around you roll their eyes in envy. But neither of you cared. You were having too much fun… and maybe, just maybe, your hearts had already caught fire.
Kuroko Tetsuya
You had a problem. A big one. And that problem’s name was Tetsuya Kuroko. The boy who could vanish from sight, whose presence was… well… basically nonexistent to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. Perfect for basketball, not so perfect for someone like you who thrived on mischief, chaos, and flirting. I mean you liked him and seeing him all flustered because of you...it was the best feeling in the world.
And yet, here you were—plotting yet another ambush to your crush.
You leaned against the gym door, a sly smile curling on your lips. You knew he was around somewhere. You always knew. He didn’t make a sound, didn’t shift the air, didn’t blink conspicuously—classic Kuroko. But you had ways. Oh, yes. You had ways.
“Kuroko~” you called out playfully, twirling a strand of hair around your finger,“You’re so quiet today. Are you… ignoring me? That would be… very naughty of you.”
Nothing. Classic Kuroko response. You tiptoed a few steps closer, letting your voice drop into a conspiratorial whisper,“I bet you’re hiding behind the locker again, huh? Come on… don’t be shy. I know you’re thinking about me.”
Still nothing. You rolled your eyes dramatically, because come on. The audacity of being ignored by the object of your affection was tragically hilarious.
Then—just as you reached the row of lockers—bam! He was there. Or… rather, he wasn’t there. One second the space was empty; the next, his shadow was… right there. You squeaked and nearly tripped, catching yourself on the locker.
“Ah! God tetsu...you scared me!” you exclaimed, glaring at him with mock indignation. Kuroko blinked, calm as ever. He didn’t apologize, didn’t smile, didn’t even flinch. His voice was quiet but steady,“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”
Your grin widened,“Ohhh, so now you’re polite and cute? That’s… unfair. I wasn’t prepared for that combination.”
He tilted his head slightly, as if assessing whether you were serious—or insane,“You’re… always like this?”
“Like what?” You leaned in a little, batting your eyelashes shamelessly,“Flirtatious? Ridiculously charming? Dangerously distracting?”
He gave you a long, unreadable stare. Then: “Yes.”
You gasped,“Yes? As in… yes, I’m charming, or yes, I distract you?”
Kuroko’s expression stayed neutral,“Both. Also yes to very annoying.”
You clutched your chest over-dramatically. “Oh! The confession! I knew it! I felt it in my bones!”
He didn’t blush. He didn’t fidget. He just quietly stepped closer. Your heart did a wild dance in your chest, because of course it did—he was Kuroko. He didn’t have to be loud to make you feel like you’d just fallen off a cliff.
“And… do you… like me back?” you asked, unable to stop yourself, though your tone was teasing.
Kuroko paused, then gave the faintest shrug,“Maybe. Sometimes. Depends.”
You gasped again, clutching your heart,“Sometimes?! Tetsuya Kuroko, that is so cruel! You can’t just flirt with me and then say ‘sometimes’!”
He blinked,“I’m not flirting.”
“Not flirting?” You gasped as if you’d been stabbed by a dagger of truth. “Oh no… so all this time I’ve been flirting with the most oblivious person alive?”
He tilted his head,“I notice. I just… don’t react the way you expect I guess.”
You sighed dramatically, sinking onto the nearest bench,“Of course you don’t. That’s why I love you.”
Kuroko’s reply? A simple, quiet,“I like that about you too.”
You froze. That. That was it. That tiny, understated line sent your heart into overdrive.
The dynamic? Oh, it was perfect chaos. You flitted around him, teasing, joking, flirting shamelessly at the most inconvenient times—hallways, classrooms, even during practice. And he… just quietly followed along, letting you have the spotlight while still somehow making your heart skip beats just by existing.
He didn’t need to be loud, he didn’t need to make dramatic gestures. His quiet acknowledgment, his occasional deadpan observations about how ridiculous you were, his subtle presence—that was enough to drive you crazy.
And for Kuroko? Well… he didn’t show it much, but your chaos made the invisible boy feel seen in ways that no one else ever could.
You never knew exactly when he’d appear—because he could literally materialize from nowhere—but that only made it more fun. One moment you’d be flirting at the lockers, and bam—Kuroko’s there, calm as ever, quietly enduring your theatrics while secretly… adoring them.
And the truth? You loved it.
Because with Kuroko, every flirt, every prank, every dramatic sigh… it was a tiny game, and both of you were winning.
Winning each others hearts ;)
Midorima Shintaro
It all started on a quiet afternoon at the school gym. You were leaning casually against the wall, smirking, watching Midorima meticulously line up his lucky items. The way he fussed over them—counting, double-checking, measuring distances—was adorable in a “someone needs a hug” kind of way. And that little crease between his eyebrows? Irresistible.
How on earth you’d ended up falling in love with a 1.90-metre-tall carrot... only the universe knew the answer to that. But hey, you just had to make do with what you had. And you wanted him.
“You know,” you drawled, stepping closer, “you could spend less time with those… things, and more time with someone who actually cares about you.”
Shintarou froze, his hands clutching his wallet like it was a life raft. “W-What do you mean by that?!” His voice wavered just slightly—enough to send a shiver down your spine.
You leaned in, lowering your voice conspiratorially,“Duh Shin, I mean me.”
For a brief, glorious second, his face went pale. Then—oh, heavens—the blush began. Pink started at his ears, spread to his neck, and then… oh god… you were pretty sure his whole face was incandescent, “Y-You… you… cannot—impossible—this is scientifically improbable!” he sputtered, waving his hands like he could physically push the blush back into his face.
You grinned, sensing victory. “Oh, Shintarou,” you cooed, dramatically tossing your hair over your shoulder, “I’ve known for weeks. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you stare at me when you think I’m not looking.”
He coughed violently,“I do not stare! I am merely… observing for… research purposes!”
You raised an eyebrow,“Research, huh? Must be some very important, uh… ‘research.’” You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly.
Shintarou’s entire body tensed. His fingers twitched toward his wallet again, then froze,“Y-You are… utterly shameless Y/n!”
“And you love it,” you teased, pressing just a little closer, deliberately letting your shoulder brush against his,“Don’t fight it, Shintarou. I can see the way your ears are burning all the way over here.”
He froze. You watched his breathing get shallow, his eyes darting around for escape routes that didn’t exist. “I-I… must… stay… composed…” he muttered, though the bright red blossoming across his cheeks betrayed him completely.
“Oh, you are cute when you’re flustered,” you said, your hand lightly brushing his arm,“Honestly, I could do this all day.”
The blush intensified. He opened his mouth, tried to speak, and instead just squeaked out a strangled,“I-I am… not… cute!”
“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning so close your lips almost brushed his ear,“Sure, Shintarou. Whatever you say ;).”
He practically melted, turning scarlet from ears to toes. “C-Cutie?! I am… NOT…!”
You couldn’t resist. Every time he opened his mouth to deny it, you smirked and leaned just an inch closer, making him panic even more. The dynamic quickly became a hilarious cycle: You flirt shamelessly, Shintarou turns beet-red, sputtering denials, You teasingly push just enough to make him combust internally, Repeat. Maybe he was more of a strawberry than a carrot, who would have known...if he did research so did you.
By the end of the day, Shintarou was a complete, stammering mess of blush and flustered Tsundere energy. And honestly? You loved every second. There was no other way to describe the thrill of seeing him so perfectly undone by your playful teasing.
Eventually, he would sit beside you, grumbling and muttering about the “improbability of human interaction,” while secretly enjoying your company so much he could barely breathe. And you, of course, would continue your relentless, flirtatious campaign—because let’s be honest, seeing Midorima Shintarou blush to the heavens? Never gets old.
BONUS:
It started innocently enough. You and Shintarou had spent the afternoon “researching human behavior,” which, in reality, was him blushing so hard he practically glowed while you leaned in close and teased him mercilessly. By the time he showed up to meet the rest of the Generation of Miracles, he looked… off.
Kuroko immediately noticed. “Shintarou, are you okay?” he asked quietly, because subtlety was his style, unlike yours. Shintarou’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. His face was tomato-red, and he was breathing like he’d just run a 100-meter dash,“I-I am… perfectly fine! Do not… stare…!”
“Uhh…” Seijuro said, tilting his head, eyes narrowing in mild suspicion,“You are… unusually flushed. And you appear… distracted.”
Shintarou waved a hand frantically,“N-N-Nonsense! I am… just… focusing on… the positioning of… my lucky items!” He tried to strike a dignified pose, but the way he kept twitching and shifting made it obvious: someone had completely destroyed his composure.
Kise leaned forward with a grin,“Shin-chan, you look like you just saw a ghost… or something way better? Maybe a girl?”
Shintarou’s head snapped toward him, panicked. “I have not! I am… I am… NOT flustered! And it’s certainly not… due to a… person! I—”
“—Are you blushing?” Daiki cut in, leaning back lazily, already sensing the comedy unfolding. “Bro, your entire face is red. Even your lucky items are probably embarrassed for you. Guess they are no so lucky if you end up like this bro.”
Shintarou’s hands shot to his face, as if he could physically push the blush away,“I… am NOT… embarrassed! This is… a normal… human reaction to… heat and sunlight!”
“You’re lying.” Kise pointed out, smirking.
“I am not! I… I simply… experienced… a sudden increase in… blood circulation due to… abnormal external stimuli!” Shintarou sputtered, each word slower than the last, as if he could carefully calculate his way out of this disaster.
Akashi pinched the bridge of his nose,“This… is highly irregular behavior. Explain yourself, Shintarou.”
Shintarou froze, flustered beyond logic. His fingers twitched toward his wallet, then froze midair. “I-I… cannot! This… is private… matter! It… it… must remain confidential!”
Kuroko tilted his head again,“It seems you were… heavily affected by someone’s behavior.”
At this, Shintarou practically vibrated. “I… I… d-d-don’t… care what you… think! And it is certainly… not a matter of… romantic… interest! I-I-I—”
Kise burst out laughing,“Oh my god, Shin-chan! You’re having a total meltdown! Who did this to you?! I must get to know her!!”
Shintarou’s face flamed so hard he looked like a walking stop sign. “I… I am… NOT MELTING DOWN! This… this is a… standard physiological response to… inappro… inappropriate… external stimuli!”
Aomine just shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, bro. Totally normal. Keep telling yourself that while you’re literally radiating embarrassment.”
The team collectively stared at him, and Shintarou’s mind raced. He could feel every eye on him, every inch of heat on his cheeks, every tremor of panic. “I-I… do not… need… advice… from fools! I… I am… perfectly… fine! I can handle this myself”
The boys bursted out into laughter. He couldnt handle nothing, especially not on his own. Not like this. Not when every word that came across your filthy seductive lips of yours made him crumble so hard.
And yet, Kuroko noticed the way he kept glancing over his shoulder, as if hoping someone—anyone—would magically erase the blush.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the back of his mind, you were probably smiling like the mischief-maker you were, knowing full well that you had just turned the infamously stoic Midorima Shintarou into a shaking, flushed tsundere disaster in front of his entire team.
And honestly? You’d do it again in a heartbeat.
#basketball#knb akashi#kuroko no basket#kurokos basketball#kuroko no basquet#knb kuroko#kuroko's basketball#kuroko tetsuya#midorima#knb#akashi#aomine#midorima shintarou#murasakibara#midorima x reader#knb midorima#kagami#kuroko#aomine daiki#kise ryouta#aomine x kagami#knb aomine#aomine x reader#akashi seijuro#knb x reader#kagami taiga#murasakibara atsushi
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Divorced Renji Abarai x gn!reader
summary: The reader is sent to the sixth division to investigate strange occurrences there. In doing so, she may also have to investigate her own feelings. A good and romantic second chance at love.
genre: romance, universe of bleach, second chance for love
word count: 3.6k
The first thing you noticed about the Renji Abarai was how much space he seemed to take up. Not physically—though he was tall enough for that too—but in presence.
The courtyard of the 6th Division headquarters buzzed with activity when you arrived, shinigami moving in disciplined patterns between buildings. Yet somehow, the moment Renji stepped into view, the air shifted.
He carried himself like someone who had fought too many battles to care what anyone thought. Broad shoulders. Long red hair tied back. The intricate tattoos across his forehead and temples framed sharp eyes that were far too observant for someone leaning lazily against a wooden pillar.
Wild. That was the word that came to mind immediately.
Wild, daring, a little arrogant. And painfully attractive. Especially when his cherry red hair swayed with the wind.
You quickly reminded yourself why you were here: Official business.
You had been sent by Gotei 13’s internal investigation branch to look into several strange incidents connected to the division—misfiled mission reports, unauthorized patrol routes, and two unexplained spiritual disturbances reported near the division barracks.
Nothing serious yet. But strange enough. Which meant you would be stationed here for a while.
Renji pushed off the pillar and walked toward you. Up close, he was even more intimidating.
“…You’re the investigator?” he asked. His voice was rough, slightly amused.
You folded your arms,“Depends. You the suspect?”
A slow grin spread across his face. Oh. He enjoyed that.
“Nah,” he said,“But I might be if this investigation gets boring.”
You raised an eyebrow,“Should I be worried?”
“Probably,”His eyes flicked over you—quick but thorough,“Didn’t expect someone like you to show up.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
Renji shrugged casually,“You don’t look like someone who spends their time digging through paperwork.”
You tilted your head,“And you don’t look like someone who follows rules.”
That grin widened,“Now that one’s accurate.”
The investigation took days. Then weeks.
___ _ _ _
You interviewed officers, reviewed reports, walked patrol routes through the outer districts of Seireitei.
And somehow—Renji kept showing up. Sometimes officially assigned to help you. Sometimes very obviously not. He leaned against walls while you reviewed documents. Walked beside you during inspections. Occasionally interrupted your work with questions that had nothing to do with the investigation.
“You always this serious?” he asked one afternoon as you checked patrol logs.
“Yes,” you simply replied. Now used to his rather teasing tone.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“You talk a lot,” he was defnetly bothering you. You had work to do. A. Lot. Of. IT.
“You notice a lot.”
You sighed,“Part of the job. I investigate...”
He chuckled,“You’re good at it.”
You glanced up at him,“Flattery won’t get you out of questioning.”
“Wasn’t trying to,”His voice softened slightly.
“Just saying.”
___ _ _ _
The flirting started small. A comment here. A smirk there. But over time it became… obvious. Very obvious.
You caught him watching you more than once. Not subtly either. One evening while walking back from the outer gates, he suddenly said— “You know something?”
You didn’t look up from your notes,“Hmm?”
“You were staring at me earlier.”
You stopped walking. Slowly, you turned your head,“…I was not.”
Renji folded his arms smugly,“You definitely were.”
“I was observing.”
“Yeah?,”You met his eyes.
“Yes,”He leaned slightly closer.
“And what’d you observe?,”Your gaze slid down his broad frame deliberately.
“…You have good posture.”Renji barked out a laugh so loud a nearby officer jumped.
“You’re terrible at lying.”
But the closer you got to him, the more you noticed something else. Something quieter beneath the confidence.
___ _ _ _
Late one evening, after finishing another round of reports, you found him sitting alone on the steps outside the barracks. The moonlight lit the courtyard softly. You sat beside him without asking.
“Long day,” you said.
“Yeah,”He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You ever get tired of investigating people?”
“Sometimes.”
Silence settled between you. Then you asked quietly—“Renji I hope its okay to ask this…Why did your marriage end? I mean I heard you were very happy...”
Renji froze slightly. You immediately regretted it. “You don’t have to answer that,” you said quickly.
But he exhaled slowly,“It’s fine.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees,“…Sometimes people grow in different directions.”
You didn’t say anything.
“The person I loved…” he continued, voice quieter now, “they had their own path. Their own responsibilities.”
You knew exactly who he meant: Rukia Kuchiki. Former captain of this division.
Renji smiled faintly,“We cared about each other. Still do.”
He glanced up at the moon,“But love doesn’t always mean staying together.”
Something in his voice made your chest tighten.
“…Do you regret it?” you asked softly. He thought for a long moment. Then shook his head,“No.”
You blinked,“No?”
“Because it taught me something.”
He turned toward you,“That life’s long.” His red eyes met yours,“And sometimes people deserve a second chance.”
Your breath caught slightly. The air between you felt different now. Closer. More honest. Renji studied your face carefully.
“You ever had your heart broken?” he asked. You huffed quietly,“Of course.”
“And?”
You shrugged,“I figured that was it.”
“For love?”
“Maybe.”
Renji leaned back, arms behind his head,“That’s a pretty sad conclusion.”
You looked at him,“Why?”
He smiled slowly. Because apparently Renji Abarai did not believe in sad endings.
“Because,” he said lightly, “you haven’t met the right person for your second chance yet.”
Your heartbeat stumbled slightly,“And you think that person exists?”
His gaze held yours. Warm. Confident. A little reckless,“Oh, absolutely.”
Your voice came out quieter than expected,“…What if they already have?”
Renji’s smile softened. Then he reached over— And gently took your hand,“Then they should probably stop investigating my division,” he said.
Your heart jumped,“…why?”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“Because,” he murmured,“I’m starting to think they’re investigating me instead.”
The courtyard outside the 6th Division barracks had grown quiet. Night had settled gently over Seireitei, lanterns casting soft golden light along the wooden walkways. Most of the division had already retired, leaving the training grounds still except for the faint rustling of evening wind.
You were still standing where he had taken your hand. And somehow… neither of you had moved. The warmth of Renji’s hand lingered around yours, his thumb brushing idly across your knuckles like he hadn’t quite realized he was doing it.
Or maybe he had. Renji wasn’t exactly subtle.
“You’re staring again,” he said.
You blinked,“…I am not.”
His grin returned instantly,“You definitely are.”
You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t pull your hand away,“That’s because you say ridiculous things.”
“Like what?”
“Like accusing investigators of investigating you personally.”
Renji leaned slightly closer, tilting his head,“Well… are you?”
Your breath caught faintly. He was too close now. You could see the faint scar on his jaw, the sharp lines of the tattoos framing his eyes, the way his red hair fell loose over his shoulder. Up close, he felt even more intense. That wild energy you had noticed the first day hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it was stronger. But now there was something else mixed into it. Something warmer.
“…You’re trouble,” you said quietly.
Renji chuckled,“Yeah. I’ve heard that before.”
“Many times, I imagine.”
“From people who ended up liking me anyway.”
You snorted softly,“Arrogant.”
“Confident.”
“Same thing.”
“Not quite,”Your eyes met his again. The space between you had somehow shrunk to almost nothing. You didn’t remember moving closer. But neither of you stepped back. For once, Renji didn’t have a joke ready. His gaze had softened slightly, studying you in a way that made your heartbeat pick up.
“…You know,” he said quietly, “I wasn’t planning on getting attached to the investigator sent to my division.”
“Attached?” you echoed. He huffed, “Don’t make me say it twice.”
You felt a small smile tug at your lips,“Maybe I want to hear it again.”
Renji stared at you for a second. Then he laughed under his breath,“You’re dangerous.”
“And you’re dramatic.”
“Yeah, well,”His voice dropped slightly,“…you make it easy.”
The air between you felt electric. You should probably step back. Maintain professionalism. Continue the investigation. Instead— You stepped closer. Renji’s eyes flickered with surprise for half a second. Then his hand tightened gently around yours.
“Careful,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Because if you keep looking at me like that…,”His voice trailed off.
Your heart thudded,“…like what?”
Renji’s other hand came up slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. His touch was surprisingly careful for someone who usually carried himself so boldly,“Like you already know what’s going to happen.”
Your breath hitched,“…do I?”
His grin softened,“Yeah.”
And then he leaned down. The kiss wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t careful. It was warm and sudden and full of all the tension that had been building between you for weeks. Renji’s hand slid to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist. You instinctively grabbed the front of his uniform, steadying yourself as the kiss deepened.
For someone who carried himself like a storm—He kissed like one too. Confident. Passionate. Alive. When you finally pulled back, both of you were slightly breathless. Renji rested his forehead lightly against yours, a soft laugh escaping him.
“Well,” he murmured,“…guess that answers that.”
You blinked up at him,“Answers what?”
His red eyes gleamed with quiet warmth.
“That second chances exist.”
Your chest tightened softly. And as his hand found yours again beneath the lantern light— You realized...Maybe they really did.
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Older Manjiro sano x fem!reader
summary: Echoes are created by being. They are played back to you to remind you of something you were or said. But what if that something was never good? Reader is poor and doesn't have much except her passion for psychology, which she hopes will one day enable her to improve the world. She lives in the Toman gang's territory, so it's no surprise that she gets to know them. Mikey Sano in particular quickly becomes the object of her observation. But Reader has no way of knowing that these observations will one day save him, her and an entire timeline.
note: Please note that this story is extremely long. It deals with gang violence and trauma. If you are uncomfortable with these topics, you should skip this story. You will find many other wonderful stories on my blog to read.
word count: 11.4k
“Welcome,” you said automatically.
The small bell above the door rang with a tired cling as someone stepped into your father’s shop. You barely looked up from the notebook in front of you.
Your father owned a tiny convenience shop squeezed between a laundromat and a bicycle repair store in a quieter street of Tokyo. The sign outside had faded years ago, and the refrigerator hummed louder than the street traffic most days.
It wasn’t much. But it was yours.
You sat behind the counter, pencil tapping against your notebook as you read through another page of psychology notes. The pages were filled with tiny handwriting, diagrams of the brain, and scattered thoughts you had scribbled while studying late at night.
One day, you would study psychology at university. Not just read about it in second-hand textbooks you borrowed or bought cheaply online.
You wanted to understand people. You wanted to help them live their lives, to understand them, and even though most people in your environment had little, you wanted to help them become mentally rich.
Also you wanted to know, why they hurt others. Why some people broke. And why some never seemed to feel anything at all. You wanted to change this cruel world into something better.
You experienced it yourself. Your father worked himself to death. Every day he got up early in the morning and worked late into the night to pay the rent and put food on the table. After your mother left you and the divorce was rather unhappy, you and your family were left facing ruin.
A group of loud voices outside interrupted your thoughts.
___ _ _ _
Motorcycles. You recognized the sound instantly. Your shoulders tensed. The door slid open again. Three boys stepped inside, laughing loudly, their jackets bearing a familiar symbol. The black uniforms. The rather loose posture.
The confidence that came from knowing no one in the neighborhood would dare argue with them. Members of the Tokyo Manji Gang.
You had seen them around the area more often over the past year. At first they had just been passing through, but now they stopped by your father’s shop occasionally for drinks or snacks.
Your father didn’t like it. But he never said anything. People who caused trouble often had money. And your family needed money.
One of the boys grabbed a soda from the fridge. Another leaned against the counter casually.
“You still studying Y/n?” he asked when he noticed the open notebook.
You nodded,“Psychology.”
He blinked,“…What’s that?”
You smiled faintly,“Understanding people.”
He scratched his head,“Sounds complicated.”
You returned to your notes. Yes, it was complicated. Especially when people like them existed.
Outside, another motorcycle engine approached. This one sounded different. Stronger.
The boys in the shop immediately straightened,“Oi.”
“Is he here already?”
The door opened again. And the atmosphere in the shop shifted. He walked in like he belonged everywhere he stepped.
Rather Small, with blond hair. Calm expression. Yet the entire room seemed to orbit around him without question: Manjiro Sano. Most people simply called him Mikey: Leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang.
You had heard the stories long before you ever saw him. A middle schooler, around your own age, who commanded one of the most dangerous gangs in the city.
Someone who could defeat grown fighters without breaking a sweat. Someone people described with words like invincible. He looked nothing like those rumors.
He looked almost… lazy.
Mikey wandered toward the fridge, grabbing a drink like any other teenager. The other gang members immediately gave him space.
“Hot today,” he muttered. No one argued. You watched him quietly. Observation was a habit you had developed from studying psychology.
Everything from body language, micro-expressions to emotional reactions. It had become a routine for you.
Mikey leaned against the counter across from you. For a moment his eyes drifted to your notebook.
“You’re always studying,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
You nodded slightly,“I have to.”
He tilted his head,“Why?”
Your pencil paused. Most people didn’t ask that. You closed the notebook slowly,“Because I want to go to university.”
He blinked once,“University?”
“Yes.”
He seemed to think about that for a moment. Then he shrugged and opened his soda,“Sounds boring.”
The other boys laughed. You didn’t. It was your dream. To make it out of these living condititons, to help others and care for your dad.
While everyone else looked at Mikey and saw a fearless gang leader...You saw something else. Your eyes studied his expression carefully.
His voice was relaxed.His posture loose. But his eyes…His eyes were different. They were empty in a way that made your chest tighten. Not sad. Not angry. Just… hollow.
Like someone standing in a room with the lights turned off inside them. You had seen that look before. In psychology books and case studies. Most often seen in trauma survivors. People who carried darkness they never spoke about.
Mikey suddenly looked up. His eyes met yours. For a split second, neither of you looked away. Your heart skipped. Not because you were scared. But because the moment your eyes connected, you realized something unsettling.
He noticed that you noticed. And for the briefest moment—His expression sharpened. Like a predator realizing it had been studied. Then he smiled lazily again.
“You’re staring,” he said.
You blinked,“…Sorry.”
He didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked curious.
“Psychology girl,” he said casually.
“That’s not my name.”
“Close enough,”He grabbed another drink and walked toward the door.
The gang members followed immediately. Before stepping outside, Mikey paused. He glanced over his shoulder at you. For a moment his playful expression disappeared. His voice was quiet,“You shouldn’t look at people like that.”
You frowned slightly,“Like what?” His eyes held yours for a second longer,“Like you’re trying to see inside them.”
Then he left. The motorcycles roared to life outside seconds later. The noise slowly faded down the street. You sat behind the counter, staring at the door. Your notebook lay open in front of you again. Your pencil hovered over the page.
Finally, you wrote a single sentence.Subject: Manjiro Sano.
Then underneath it: Observation: severe emotional detachment. You hesitated. Then added one more line. Possible underlying darkness.
___ _ _ _
Outside the shop, Mikey rode his motorcycle through the streets of Tokyo with the wind pushing through his blond hair. For some reason, your face lingered in his mind. Because you looked at him like you were trying to solve a puzzle.
And deep down—Mikey knew something dangerous about puzzles.
Once someone started trying to solve them…They rarely stopped.
Even when the answer was something dark. Very dark. You had noticed that darkness from the very beginning.
___ _ _ _
At first, running into members of the Tokyo Manji Gang happened purely by accident. Or at least that’s what you told yourself.
Your father’s shop sat on a street that several groups of delinquents seemed to pass through regularly. At first it had only been a few visits — a soda here, instant noodles there, loud laughter echoing against the shelves.
Then it became something else. You started seeing them everywhere: Outside the shop, near the park, at the street corner where the vending machines stood.
Sometimes on the way back from the small library where you studied. And strangely… they always recognized you.
“Hey, psychology girl!”
You sighed as a familiar voice called out across the sidewalk.
Turning around, you saw Ryuuguji Ken standing beside his motorcycle. His tall frame and dragon tattoo made him impossible to miss even from far away. A few other boys were gathered around him. Some you recognized from earlier visits to the shop. And leaning casually against a street railing was the one person who always seemed to shift the air around him.
Manjiro Sano. Mikey.
You hesitated for a moment before walking closer. “You’re skipping school again,” you said as you approached.
Draken snorted,“You sound like someone’s mom.”
“I’m serious.”
Mikey tilted his head slightly, watching you,“You’re not at school either.”
“I already finished for today,” you protested.
“Liar.”
You frowned,“I’m not lying.”
He studied your face for a moment, then shrugged,“Fine.”
Someone handed you a canned drink without asking if you wanted one. It had somehow become normal. You weren’t part of their gang. You never wore their uniform. And you never attended meetings or fights. But somehow you ended up sitting beside them on park benches, listening to their conversations about bikes, territory, and rival gangs.
At first… it had been strangely enjoyable. They were loud and chaotic, but also oddly welcoming. No one treated you like an outsider. They didn’t question why you were there or what you were doing.
Sometimes you simply sat nearby while they argued about stupid things. Sometimes Mikey dragged you along when they went to a food stall,“Psychology girl, you’re paying.”
“I’m not paying,”you said, taken aback, knowing that you had absolutely no money.
“You’re paying.”
“You’re the gang leader!,” you excalimed.
“And?”
Draken would usually laugh while you glared at Mikey. Those moments almost felt normal. Almost like you were just another group of teenagers wasting time after school. But there was always something beneath the surface. Something that reminded you this wasn’t normal.
You noticed it in the way other delinquents moved out of the way when they saw the Tokyo Manji Gang uniforms. You noticed it in the tension whenever motorcycles from unfamiliar groups passed by.
And most of all—You noticed it in Mikey. He could be laughing one second, stealing food from Draken or arguing about snacks…
And the next second his entire expression would go still. Cold. Sharp.
Like a switch had been flipped inside him.
Your notebook slowly filled with more observations:
Subject: Manjiro Sano. Dual emotional states observed. Carefree behavior suddenly replaced by extreme intensity.
You didn’t know why you kept writing about him. Maybe because he fascinated you. Or maybe because he scared you.
___ _ _ _
The first time you saw the violence up close was a few weeks later. It happened suddenly. You had been walking with several members of the gang near an empty lot, talking about something completely stupid.
Then someone shouted. Another group had arrived. You didn’t recognize their uniforms, but the reaction from the boys around you told you everything. Rival gang.
The tension spread instantly. Draken stepped forward, his voice calm but firm,“Stay back.”
You did. At first, it was just shouting. Insults thrown across the street.
Threats. Posturing. Then someone threw the first punch. Everything exploded. Fists collided. Bodies slammed into pavement.
Someone crashed into a fence. The sound of fighting was far louder than you expected. You stood frozen near the edge of the lot. Your heart pounded as you watched teenagers — boys your age — beat each other like soldiers on a battlefield.
You should have left. You knew that. But your feet didn’t move.
Part of you was horrified. Another part…Observed. Totally shocked about the fact, that humans were able to casually commit such cruelties. Your eyes instinctively analyzed every movement, aggression patterns, their group dynamics, leadership behavior.
And then Mikey moved. You barely saw it happen. One moment he was standing calmly beside you. The next he was already in the middle of the fight. His kick landed with terrifying precision. One opponent collapsed instantly. Then another. And another.
The violence around him seemed almost… effortless. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t look angry. He simply destroyed anyone who stood in his way. Within minutes the rival gang was retreating.
The lot fell silent except for heavy breathing and the sound of someone groaning on the ground. Your stomach twisted. Mikey wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.
Then he turned toward you. And smiled. Like nothing had happened.
“You okay?” he asked casually.
You stared at him. The adrenaline. The chaos. The brutality.
Your chest felt tight. “…Yes,” you said quietly.
But something inside you had shifted.
___ _ _ _
That fight wasn’t the last one. In the weeks that followed, you saw more. More confrontations. More rival gangs. And a whole lot more injuries, severe ones at that. Sometimes someone would come back with a split lip, one of the lighter and better outcomes.
And every time it happened, you felt two conflicting emotions tearing at you. Fascination. And disgust. You studied psychology because you wanted to understand people.
But watching violence unfold in front of you like this… It felt different from reading about it in books. This wasn’t theory. This was reality.
One evening you sat alone in your room, flipping through your notebook. Page after page of observations about gang behavior.
Leadership structures. Mikey. Your pencil hovered over the paper.
Finally you wrote: Exposure to prolonged violence can normalize aggression. You stared at the sentence for a long time. Then you added another line. I cannot allow myself to become part of this environment.
___ _ _ _
The next time you saw members of the Tokyo Manji Gang outside the shop, you didn’t stop to talk. You nodded politely. Then kept walking. Draken noticed immediately,“Hey.”
You didn’t turn around. Mikey was standing beside him. Watching quietly. For the first time since meeting them… You walked away. And although part of you still felt curious about Manjiro Sano…
Another part of you understood something important. Some darkness wasn’t meant to be studied from too close. Because if you stayed near it long enough… It might start pulling you in, too.
___ _ _ _
Years had passed since you last stood near the roar of motorcycles and the shouting of teenage delinquents. The streets that once felt chaotic now seemed strangely distant from your life.
At twenty-six, your world had changed. Your days were now spent inside lecture halls at a university in Tokyo, surrounded by stacks of research papers, psychological journals, and case studies instead of gang fights and street rumors. You were halfway through your master’s degree in psychology — the dream you had once scribbled into a worn notebook behind your father’s shop counter.
Sometimes, when you walked home from campus in the evening, you remembered those old days.
The small shop. The boys in black uniforms. The uneasy fascination you once felt watching them from the edge of their world.
Most of all… You remembered him. You remembered Mikey. This brutal, broken, and mentally unstable person. Even after all these years, the memory of his eyes remained disturbingly clear in your mind.
That emptiness. That darkness. And yet there were also moments full of laughter, silly pranks, and stupid comments that lifted the mood.
He had fascinated you. How he could use force without batting an eyelid, how he could smile immediately afterwards, and above all, what he was thinking at the time. irgenwasnn you had found a realization. Mikey was driven by loss. Loss that never had to be given space. Loss that he always carried around with him, like a war badge. A loss that slowly but surely turned him into a monster.
And something else had become clear to her. It wasn't just him as your practice subject, but also him as a person. His tousled blond hair, his smile, and the way he led a group and kept it together. Now that you were more mature, you realized that you had also had romantic feelings for him back then without knowing it.
Feelings that you were right never to express. Because unlike many other girls, you knew that he couldn't be saved.
___ _ _ _
You had written entire papers during university about emotional dissociation and trauma responses. Sometimes, while analyzing case studies, his face appeared in your thoughts without warning.
You had left that world behind for a reason. Violence had a way of pulling people deeper into it. And you had promised yourself long ago that you would never become part of it.
Your apartment was quiet that evening. Rain tapped softly against the window as you sat at your desk reviewing research notes for your thesis. A thick textbook lay open beside your laptop, filled with highlighted sections about criminal psychology and behavioral trauma patterns.
Your phone rang suddenly. The unfamiliar number made you hesitate. You almost ignored it. But something told you to answer,“…Hello?”
For a moment there was only static. Then a male voice spoke,“Is this… Y/N?”
You frowned slightly,“Yes. Who is this?”
The voice hesitated,“…You probably don’t remember me.”
But the moment he spoke again, something about his tone felt strangely familiar,“I’m Takemichi Hanagaki.”
Your pen slipped from your hand,“…Takemichi?”
You hadn’t seen him in over a decade. The last time you remembered him clearly, he had been a scared teenager constantly getting dragged into gang conflicts,“How did you get this number?”
“That’s… a long story.” Another voice suddenly joined the call. More calm and professional,“Good evening. This is Naoto Tachibana.”
Your confusion deepened,“Wait… the brother of Hinata?”
“Yes.”
You leaned back slowly in your chair,“…Why are you both calling me?”
There was a brief silence on the line.
Then Takemichi spoke again.
“Because we need your help.”
Your stomach tightened,“With what?”
His answer came quietly,“…Time travel.”
You closed your eyes for a moment,“…This isn’t funny. We arent teenagers anymore.”
“I know how it sounds,”Naoto’s voice returned, calm and serious,“But everything he says is true.”
Your fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. You had studied human behavior for years. Delusions. Psychological stress responses. Trauma-induced hallucinations.
But something about the way they spoke didn’t sound unstable. It sounded desperate.
Takemichi continued,“For years we’ve been trying to fix the future… by changing the past.”
Your mind immediately resisted the concept,“That’s impossible.”
“It shouldn’t exist,” Naoto said calmly,“But it does.”
Your heart was beating faster now,“Okay, assuming I believe you…Why call me?”
Takemichi took a deep breath,“Because we’re out of time.”
Outside your window, thunder rolled faintly through the night sky.
“We’ve tried everything,” he continued,“Different timelines… different choices… but things keep going wrong.”
Your chest tightened. A quiet dread slowly formed in the back of your mind,“…Still, what does that have to do with me?”
Neither of them answered immediately. Finally Naoto spoke,“In every timeline we’ve observed… one individual remains the central point of collapse.”
You already knew the answer before he said the name. Manjiro Sano. Your fingers slowly curled against the desk.
“In the current timeline,” Naoto continued, “he is twenty-seven years old.”
You swallowed. You had seen fragments of news stories over the years. Organized crime. Disappearances. Rumors of a powerful criminal organization controlling large parts of the underground world. Stories often connected to a name you once knew.
“Mikey has become the head of a massive criminal syndicate,” Takemichi said quietly.
Your voice felt smaller than you expected,“…I heard. The news....”
“But it’s worse than that,”The fear in his voice was unmistakable.
“In this timeline… everyone dies.”
Your breath caught.
“Draken.”
“Chifuyu.”
“Mitsuya.”
“Everyone.”
The names hit you like echoes from another life. Takemichi continued softly,“And every time… Mikey ends up alone.”
Your mind raced. Psychological isolation. Survivor’s guilt. Accumulated trauma. You had studied these patterns before. People pushed into darkness without anyone strong enough to stop them.
Naoto spoke again,“We believe the problem isn’t just external events.”
“It’s Mikey himself," You stared at the rain sliding down the window,“…His mental state.”
“Yes,”Takemichi’s voice trembled slightly,“He keeps falling deeper into something none of us can reach.”
Your chest tightened painfully. You remembered the first day you saw him in your father’s shop: Those hollow eyes, that quiet warning he once gave you.
You shouldn’t look at people like that.
Naoto continued carefully, “Your academic work focuses on trauma analysis and behavioral intervention.”
Your stomach dropped,“…You want me to analyze him.”
“We want you to help us stop the cycle.”
The rain outside grew heavier. Takemichi spoke again, quieter now,“You noticed something about him back then… didn’t you?”
Your heart skipped,“How do you know that?”
“We’ve been investigating old connections,” Naoto said. Takemichi added softly,“You were one of the few people who saw something wrong with him from the beginning.”
Your hands trembled slightly. Years ago you had walked away from the Tokyo Manji Gang because you believed you couldn’t change anything. Because you believed that darkness wasn’t your responsibility.
Now those same shadows had returned to your door. Takemichi’s voice became serious,“This is our final chance.”
“The last time leap.”
“If we fail this time…”His sentence trailed off.
You didn’t need him to finish it. You closed your eyes. Somewhere in the city of Tokyo, the boy you once studied from a distance had become a man drowning in the darkness you had noticed all those years ago.
And now— For the first time since you walked away— You were being asked to step back into his story. Not as a bystander. But as someone who might be able to understand the darkness inside Manjiro Sano before it destroyed everything.
Your voice was quiet when you finally spoke,“…If I agree…”
“Then we prepare for the final timeline,” Naoto answered.
Takemichi added softly, “And this time…We save Mikey.”
Outside the window, lightning flashed across the sky. And deep in your chest, a memory stirred. A boy leaning against a shop counter. Golden hair. Empty eyes. You had once written in a notebook: Possible underlying darkness.
Now you understood something terrifying. The darkness you had noticed back then… Had never disappeared. It had only grown.
___ _ _ _
The rain had not stopped for three days. Tokyo felt colder than usual, the sky hanging low over the endless buildings of Tokyo as if the city itself carried the weight of something approaching.
Inside a small investigation office, the lights had remained on nearly every night. Papers covered the desk, photographs, newspaper clippings. and articles and also old police reports.
Stacks of documents filled with the name you had not spoken out loud in years. Manjiro Sano.
You sat hunched over the desk, eyes burning from exhaustion as you flipped through another report. The thin paper trembled slightly in your fingers.
Organized crime network suspected in multiple violent incidents across Tokyo. Police investigation stalled due to lack of witnesses. Rumored leader: Manjiro Sano.
You swallowed. Another article described an abandoned warehouse found with bodies inside. The police report mentioned signs of gang conflict, but the names of the organizations involved had been removed from the public release.
Still, certain phrases appeared again and again. Untraceable leadership. Absolute loyalty. No internal opposition.
The same pattern repeated across years of reports. The same name whispered through every story: Mikey.
Your chest tightened as you picked up a photograph from the pile. It showed him stepping out of a black car, surrounded by men in dark suits. He was older now, twenty-seven. A black dragon tattoo on the right side of his neck. Blond hair, slicked back tightly. You caught yourself smiling. Takemichi had said that he had probably worn his natural black hair in a timeline. But Mikey only existed with his blonde locks.
His hair had grown longer, falling loosely around his face. It suited him. His expression was calm — almost bored — as if the world around him held no real weight.
But his eyes… The emptiness you remembered had changed. It wasn’t hollow anymore. It was darker. Like something had completely settled inside him.
Your fingers trembled slightly as you stared at the image. You hated this feeling. The tightness in your chest. The strange, familiar sensation crawling under your skin.
That same quiet fascination you had once felt years ago when you studied him from across your father’s shop counter. You pressed your hand over your eyes,“I shouldn’t feel this.”
Your voice was barely more than a whisper.
Across the room, Takemichi Hanagaki sat with his elbows on his knees, watching you carefully,“You’re not wrong for feeling it.”
You shook your head,“Yes, I am.”
Your hand lowered from your face,“He’s responsible for all of this.”
You gestured toward the mountain of reports,“People died because of him.”
Takemichi’s expression darkened,“I know.”
He had been telling you everything over the past few days. Every timeline. Every failed attempt. Every death. You had listened for hours while he explained the complicated chain of events that had shaped the fate of the Tokyo Manji Gang. How friendships had turned into tragedies. How different choices had led to new disasters. And how every timeline eventually collapsed around Mikey.
Takemichi leaned forward slightly,“In the beginning… he wasn’t like this.”
Your eyes drifted back to the photograph,“I know.”
“I mean it,” he insisted quietly,“He really cared about everyone.”
You nodded slowly,“I remember these days...”
You remembered the way he laughed while arguing with Draken. The way he stole snacks like a kid. The strange gentleness hidden beneath his reckless behavior. But you also remembered something else. The moment when his eyes turned cold during fights. That switch inside him. That darkness.
Takemichi rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion visible in his posture,“Every timeline we tried to fix something… something else broke.”
His voice grew quieter,“In the end it always leads back to him.”
You closed the folder in front of you,“He’s drowning.”
Takemichi looked up,“What?”
You leaned back slightly in the chair, your mind automatically analyzing everything you had read,“Isolation. Survivor’s guilt. Traumatic loss. Emotional suppression.”
You tapped the photograph lightly,“No support system left.”
Takemichi stared at you,“…You figured that out from reading those reports?”
Your lips pressed together,“I figured it out years ago.”
The room fell silent. Across the office, Naoto Tachibana stepped inside, holding a small metal case. His calm expression never seemed to change,“It’s time.”
You frowned slightly,“For what?”
Naoto placed the case on the table and opened it. Inside lay a handgun. Your stomach dropped,“…No.”
Takemichi shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Naoto looked directly at you,“This is a precaution.”
“I’m not a soldier.”
“You may need to defend yourself.”
Your pulse quickened,“I’m just a psychology student.”
“And you’re about to enter the most dangerous timeline we’ve ever encountered,” Naoto replied calmly.
You stared at the weapon. Cold. Heavy. And very much real.
“You expect me to shoot someone?,” you asked shocked. Naoto’s voice remained steady,“I expect you to survive.”
Takemichi looked away slightly,“Some of the people in this timeline… they’re not the same anymore.”
You clenched your hands into fists,“This isn’t what I signed up for.”
Naoto closed the case halfway,“Then walk away.”
The words hung in the air. You looked down at the photograph again. Mikey stepping out of that car, surrounded by shadows. Your chest tightened painfully,“I can’t.”
You once did walk away...only to find yourself tangled up with him once more. Because deep down, you always had a thing for Mikey.
Naoto studied your face carefully. Then he pushed the case back toward you,“Then you will have to learn.”
___ _ _ _
The next few hours were surreal. Naoto cleared a small area in the training facility beneath the police building. The room echoed with the distant sounds of traffic above as he placed the handgun in your hands. It felt heavier than you expected. Your fingers trembled slightly.
“Safety first,” Naoto said calmly, guiding your grip. He explained everything step by step. How to hold it. How to aim. How to disengage the safety. Even how to breathe. Your heart pounded as you pointed the weapon toward the practice target,“This feels wrong.”
Naoto stood beside you,“It should. Shooting should never feel easy.”
You took a slow breath. Your finger tightened slightly around the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing sharply through the room. Your hands shook as the sound faded. Takemichi winced from across the room. Naoto simply nodded,“Again.”
___ _ _ _
Hours later, your arms ached from tension. You sat on the floor of the training room, staring at your shaking hands. Takemichi walked over slowly,“You okay Y/n?”
“…No.”
He sat down beside you.
“I’m scared.”
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tell you to be brave. He just nodded,“Me too.”
Your eyes drifted toward the metal case resting on the nearby table,“…Do you think we can actually change him?”
Takemichi stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he answered quietly,“I have to believe we can.”
Your thoughts returned to the photograph you had studied all night.The boy you once observed had become a man feared across the entire criminal underworld. Dangerous, deadly, almost untouchable.
And yet… When you looked at his picture, that strange, old sensation still stirred in your chest. That quiet pull. That fascination you had never fully understood. You hated it. But it was still there. Like the echo of something unfinished. Takemichi eventually stood up,“We leave tomorrow.”
Your stomach twisted, “One last leap.”
Somewhere out there in the sprawling darkness of Tokyo, the man known as Manjiro Sano was waiting at the center of a future that had destroyed everyone around him.
And tomorrow—You would step back into his past. Not as the girl who watched from across a shop counter. But as someone determined to understand the darkness inside him before it swallowed the world completely. Even if it meant facing the most dangerous version of Mikey that had ever existed.
___ _ _ _
The night of the final leap felt strangely quiet.Too quiet. The small room inside the police building was dimly lit, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence like distant static. Outside, the city of Tokyo continued as it always did — cars passing, neon lights flickering, people living lives completely unaware that the fate of countless timelines rested on what would happen in the next few minutes. Your hands were cold.
Across from you stood Takemichi, nervously rubbing his palms together like he had done every time before a leap. His shoulders looked tense, his eyes tired from the weight of too many memories. Beside him, Naoto checked his watch one final time.
“This is it,” he said quietly. The words settled heavily in the room. You swallowed,“Remind me again how this works.”
Takemichi forced a small, awkward smile,“You hold my hand… and then we jump back.”
“Just like that?”
“…Basically.”
You exhaled slowly, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.
The metal of the handgun pressed faintly against your side inside your jacket. You hoped you would never have to use it. Naoto stepped closer. “When you arrive, focus on gathering information first,” he said calmly. “Your job is to analyze Mikey’s psychological state and intervene before things escalate.”
You nodded,“And you?”
“I’ll remain in the present timeline to monitor changes.”
Takemichi extended his hand toward you. His voice trembled slightly,“Ready?”
Your fingers wrapped around his. The moment your skin touched his palm, the air around you seemed to tighten.
For a brief second, the world felt like it was holding its breath.
And then— Everything shattered. Light exploded behind your eyes. Your stomach twisted violently as the ground disappeared beneath your feet. Sound vanished. Time folded inward. You had expected disorientation. Maybe dizziness. But this felt like being torn through reality itself. Your grip on Takemichi tightened desperately—
And then suddenly—You were falling.
Your body slammed hard against pavement. Air rushed violently into your lungs as the world snapped back into focus.
You gasped. The sky above you was dark. Your head spun as you pushed yourself upright,“…Takemichi?”
No answer. Your heart jumped. You looked around frantically. An empty street. Dim streetlights. No Takemichi. Also no Naoto. Cold panic spread through your chest,“Takemichi?!”
Your voice echoed down the quiet road. Still nothing. Your breathing quickened. This wasn’t how the leap was supposed to work. Something had gone wrong.
Then—
A motorcycle engine roared nearby. You froze. The sound came from the end of the street. Headlights cut through the darkness. Your heart nearly stopped when the rider removed his helmet. The blond hair was unmistakable. And the moment his eyes landed on you— They widened in shock: Manjiro Sano.
“Mikey…?” For several seconds neither of you moved. It wasn't the version you should have encountered in this timeline, but the older version that you had studied extensively in newspaper articles over the last few days. What on earth was he doing here?
He stepped off the motorcycle slowly, staring at you like he had just seen a ghost.
“…No way,"Your chest tightened,“You… you’re here too?”
His eyes flicked around the empty street.
“…Where’s Takemichi?”
“I thought he was with you,”Mikey ran a hand through his hair, frustration flashing across his face.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,”
Your mind raced,“…What do you mean?”
His gaze returned to you,“We were watching you.”
Your stomach dropped,“What?”
“Your meetings with Takemichi. The police officer. Everything.”
You stared at him in disbelief,“You knew?”
Mikey nodded slowly,“I figured out Takemichi could jump timelines a long time ago.”
Your pulse raced,“So you…”
“…Followed him.”
The realization hit you like lightning,“You jumped too.”
“Yeah.”
You both stood there in stunned silence. Two people from the future. Thrown into a timeline that neither of you fully understood. Separated from the others. Alone. The weight of the situation crashed down on you all at once.
“…This is bad,” you whispered. Mikey laughed quietly. Not in amusement. More like disbelief,“You think?”
Your eyes met again. And suddenly… Something changed. The tension in your chest softened. It had been years since you last saw him. Yet standing here now, face to face again, felt strangely familiar. Too familiar.
Your voice came out quieter than you expected,“…You’re alive.”
Mikey blinked slightly,“…Yeah.”
You hadn’t realized how much the reports and articles had prepared you to face the worst. Seeing him standing here — breathing, real — sent an unexpected warmth through your chest.
Mikey studied your face carefully,“You changed Y/n.”
You huffed softly,“You’re one to talk.”
He tilted his head slightly,“You’re older....prettier.”
“So are you.”
A small silence followed. Then Mikey’s expression shifted.Somewhat softer. Just like in the old days,“…I thought you disappeared.”
Your throat tightened,“I left.”
“I know,”He looked away briefly.
“Still.”
Something in his voice made your chest ache. You crossed your arms lightly, trying to steady your emotions,“We don’t have time for this.”
Mikey nodded reluctantly,“Right.”
His expression turned serious again,“We need to figure out what timeline this is.”
“And find Takemichi and Naoto,” you added.
“And the version of me that belongs here.”
The thought sent a strange chill down your spine. Two Mikeys. One from the future. One from this timeline. Your gaze drifted back to him,“…You realize this is incredibly dangerous.”
He smirked faintly,“You’re just noticing that now? I thought you went to university.”
Despite everything, a quiet laugh escaped you. Mikey watched you closely,“…You used to look at me like you were trying to solve a puzzle.”
Your smile faded slightly,“I was.”
“And now?”
Your eyes met his,“…Now I know the puzzle was darker than I expected.”
Mikey didn’t look offended. If anything, his expression grew more thoughtful,“…You always saw through me.”
Your chest tightened,“I tried.”
A heavy silence settled between you. So many years. So many things left unsaid. Finally Mikey looked away,“We should move.”
You nodded. But before either of you took a step, he spoke again,“…I’m glad it’s you.”
Your heart skipped,“What?”
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly,“If I had to get stuck in a broken timeline…”
His eyes met yours again,“…I’m glad I’m not alone.”
The warmth in your chest returned stronger this time. Despite the danger. Despite the chaos. Despite everything that had happened between past and future— Seeing him again stirred something deep inside you. Old memories. Old emotions. Old questions that had never been answered.
You turned toward the dark street ahead,“Let’s find them.”
Mikey walked beside you. Two people from a shattered future. Searching for answers in a past that had already gone wrong. And somewhere in the quiet space between your footsteps— Old feelings began rising again. Feelings neither of you were fully prepared to face.
___ _ _ _
Mikey had noticed it back then. The way you always looked at him. The way you scribbled something in your dark green notebook afterwards. He believed that you saw him. Everything about him. Even the things he'd rather not have done. But sometimes it had to be done. The violence, the blood, the beatings.
As a teenager, he had always had to stop himself from talking to you. From talking about the things that moved him. He had seen where that led with his brother: the weak king. He couldn't be weak, not when so many were counting on him.
Nevertheless, he liked to think back on that one evening. He had given you a lift on his motorbike because your old rusty bicycle had a flat tyre. Instead of driving straight home, you stopped at the Sano shrine. You told him about your dreams, about the suffering caused by poverty and the hopelessness. He revealed little about himself. But what he did share was met with understanding, much to his surprise. It was the only time you had ever talked like that with each other.
He had felt understood. And it had inspired him to want to be better. Not for you, but for himself. For the world and the people who lived in it. Especially those he liked.
He never thought he would pursue this goal as a gangster boss. But that's just how life turned out.
Constantly accompanied by the scent of ripe cherries that your shampoo had left in your hair. The long eyelashes that framed your beautiful eyes and the face on which he only wanted to see beautiful emotions.
___ _ _ _
Night stretched endlessly over the streets of Tokyo. It was strange, knowing it was Tokyo but from a much earlier time in the both of your lives. The city was quieter back then. Neon lights reflected in puddles along the pavement, and distant traffic hummed like a low heartbeat somewhere far away. You and Mikey walked side by side down an empty street. Neither of you spoke at first. The situation itself felt unreal. Two people from a broken future wandering through the past, searching for a younger version of someone who already stood beside you. Mikey kicked a small stone across the pavement as he walked.
“You know,” he muttered,“I never thought time travel would be this annoying.”
You almost smiled,“Annoying?”
“Yeah. I thought it would feel… cooler.”
“You literally broke the timeline.”
He shrugged lazily,“Details.”
You studied him from the corner of your eye.
Even now, there was something eerily familiar about walking beside him like this. It reminded you of those strange afternoons years ago when you occasionally sat with members of the Tokyo Manji Gang while they wasted time after school. Back then everything had felt chaotic but simple. Before the darkness grew.
Mikey suddenly spoke again,“You stopped hanging out with us.”
Your steps slowed slightly,“…Yeah.”
“You never told me why.”
Your eyes dropped to the pavement,“I think you already knew.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed softly,“You hated the violence.”
“Yes.”
“You were scared of us.”
Your voice was calm,“No.”
That answer made him glance at you. You met his gaze,“I was scared of what you would become.”
The words lingered heavily between you. Mikey looked away again,“…Guess you were right.”
You shook your head,“No.”
His brow furrowed slightly,“What?”
“You weren’t doomed from the start.”
He let out a quiet laugh,“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Your voice was firm,“You were a kid surrounded by violence.”
He didn’t respond.
“You grew up fighting because it was the only way anyone ever taught you how to survive.”
The wind brushed softly through the street.
“You weren’t evil.”
Mikey’s shoulders tensed slightly,“…You didn’t see what I became.”
“I read about it,” you replied, voice quiet. His steps slowed,“You read about me?”
You nodded,“Every article. Every police report. Every rumor.”
He didn’t say anything for several seconds. Then quietly—“…Why?”
You hesitated. Because the truth was embarrassingly simple,“…Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Also I needed to prepare for this...whatever this is...”
He stopped walking. You turned toward him slowly. His expression was unreadable.
“That’s messed up,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
“You studied my crimes like a research project,” he looked at you.
“Yes.”
“And you still decided to come back.”
Your chest tightened,“Yes.” When he phrased it like this, it really sounded insane. Mikey stared at you like he was trying to understand something impossible,“…Why?”
Your answer came before you could stop it,“Because I cared about you.”
The words hung in the cold air. Mikey looked away quickly,“You barely knew me.”
“I knew enough.”
“You watched me from across a store counter.”
“And I saw things other people ignored.”
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly,“…You always looked at me weird.”
“I was studying you.”
“Yeah, well. It was creepy.”
Despite everything, you laughed softly,“Sorry.”
The tension between you loosened slightly. But only slightly. Because the truth still lingered beneath every word. Eventually Mikey sighed and continued walking.
“You know,” he muttered, “I used to wonder about you.”
Your heart skipped,“…You did?”
“Yeah.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets,“You disappeared one day.”
“I had to.”
“I know,” he said, almost too quiet. He paused briefly,“But I still wondered.”
Your voice felt softer now,“About what?”
The cool night breeze brushed past you, carrying a few leaves from the nearby trees in its wake.
“…What you thought of me.”
Your chest tightened painfully,“You want the honest answer?”
“Yeah.”
You took a breath,“I thought you were lonely.”
Mikey stopped again. The words clearly caught him off guard,“…Lonely?”
“Yes.”
He let out a disbelieving laugh,“I had an entire gang.”
“You had followers,” you corrected.
He stared at you.
“That’s not the same thing.”
For a moment neither of you moved. Then Mikey’s expression shifted slightly,“Hey.”
“What?”
“I think I found him.”
You followed his gaze down the street. Across the road, beneath a flickering streetlight, stood another figure. Blond hair. Slender frame. Hands in his pockets. Your breath caught. Another Manjiro Sano. The younger version of Mikey. This timeline’s Mikey. He hadn’t noticed you yet.
Future Mikey exhaled slowly,“…There he is.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes. Your stomach tightened instantly,“What are you thinking Mikey?”
His voice was calm,“I’m thinking this would all be easier if I just told him the truth.”
You froze,“What kind of truth?”
“That everything falls apart eventually.”
Your heart skipped,“Mikey—”
“That everyone he loves dies.”
“No.”
“That the world turns him into a monster.”
Your chest tightened,“Stop.”
Future Mikey stepped forward,“Why should I?”
“Because you’ll destroy him,” you whined, shocked by his intentions. If he told himself what was to be...little miky would eventually become even crueler than the current version.
His voice hardened,“Maybe he deserves to know.”
You grabbed his arm suddenly,“Don’t.”
He looked down at your hand gripping his sleeve,“…Why? What the hell does your opinion matter?”
Your voice trembled slightly. Suddenly, you were a little afraid of him. He never had raised his voice against you before,“Because I’ve seen what happens when you believe you’re already doomed.”
Your eyes moved toward the younger Mikey standing across the street.
Then slowly— You walked past the future Mikey and toward the boy beneath the streetlight. The younger Mikey noticed you approaching and frowned slightly,“…Who are you?”
You stopped a few steps away. Your heart pounded violently in your chest. Because you knew what you had to do.You took a breath.
Then you began speaking. Quietly. Slowly. Like you were telling a bedtime story.
“You grow up surrounded by fighting.”
Young Mikey’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“You think strength is the only thing protecting the people you love.”
Future Mikey stood behind you silently. Listening.
“You lose people,”Your voice grew softer, “You lose your brother.”
Young Mikey’s expression shifted slightly.
“You watch people you care about get hurt,”Your chest tightened painfully, “And every time something goes wrong…” You pressed a hand against your chest,“…you start believing it’s your fault.”
The younger Mikey stared at you now. Your voice trembled,“You try to protect everyone Mikey.”
“You try to be strong enough for everyone, but the world keeps taking people away,”Your eyes burned,“So you bury the pain.”
“You pretend you don’t feel it.”
“You keep fighting because that’s the only thing you know how to do,”Your breathing grew uneven.
“And eventually…”You forced the words out, “…you become someone you don’t recognize anymore.”
Tears blurred your vision.
Young Mikey whispered quietly,“…How do you know that?”
You swallowed hard. Because the answer was the most painful part,“…Because if I were you…”
Your voice cracked,“…that’s exactly what I would have done.”
Silence swallowed the street. Young Mikey’s expression slowly changed. The confusion in his little features. The tension.The guarded calm. All of it cracked.
“…I…,”His voice trembled,“…I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I love them.”
Your chest ached,“I know.”
“I just wanted everyone to stay together.”
“I know,” your voice took on a more comforting tone. His breathing grew shaky,“I tried my best.”
Your tears finally slipped down your cheeks,“I know.”
The words broke something inside him. His shoulders began trembling. His face twisted with emotions he had clearly been holding back for years,“I didn’t know what else to do!”
The confession tore out of him like something painful finally escaping. His hands clenched tightly,“I didn’t know!”
Your heart shattered. “I know,” you whispered again.
For the first time—The boy who would one day become the most feared man in Tokyo collapsed under the weight of his own emotions. Tears streamed down his face. Raw. Uncontrolled. Desperate. He cried like a child who had finally been allowed to admit he was hurting.
Behind you, the older Manjiro Sano stood frozen. Watching the moment he himself had never been allowed to experience. And for the first time in years—His own eyes began to fill with tears too.
___ _ _ _
The younger Manjiro Sano still stood beneath the dim streetlight, shoulders shaking as the last remnants of his breakdown slowly faded into quiet sobs. His hands covered his face, his breathing uneven, as if years of suppressed pain had finally cracked open. You stood a few steps away, your chest still tight from the words you had spoken.
Behind you, the older Mikey hadn’t moved. For several seconds none of you spoke. The night air felt heavier now, like something fundamental had shifted. Finally you wiped your eyes and turned toward the future version of Mikey. His expression was unreadable.
But his eyes— Your heart tightened when you saw them.
He was crying too. Not loudly. But in pain. Just silent tears sliding down his face as he stared at the younger version of himself.
You stepped closer to him,“Mikey…”
He didn’t answer immediately. His voice, when it came, was rough,“…I never cried.”
You frowned softly,“What?”
He gestured toward the boy under the streetlight,“Him.”
His throat tightened,“I never let myself do that.”
Your chest ached. For years the world had seen the older Mikey as a monster. The reports described him as ruthless, unstoppable, merciless. But standing here now, you saw the truth. He was just someone who had carried his pain alone for far too long.
You glanced once more toward the younger Mikey. He had sunk down onto the curb now, his head lowered, breathing slowly as if trying to process everything that had just happened.
Good. He needed that moment. He needed space to feel everything. You turned back to Mikey. “We should find Takemichi and Naoto,” you said quietly.
He wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket, nodding once,“Yeah.”
Your voice grew thoughtful,“If Takemichi landed somewhere nearby, he’ll probably start looking for the gang...and Naoto will be trying to locate us from the present timeline.”
Mikey nodded again. But he didn’t move. You studied him carefully,“…What is it?”
He exhaled slowly,“What you said to him. To me.”
Your heart skipped,“I meant it.”
“I know,”His eyes drifted back toward his younger self,“…No one ever said something like that to me.”
Your chest tightened painfully,“I should have.”
Mikey shook his head,“You left.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t sound angry. Just tired,“You had every reason to.”
Still, guilt settled heavy in your chest,“I always wondered if things would have been different if I stayed.”
He glanced at you,“…You really think you could’ve fixed me?”
“No,”Your answer came immediately,“People aren’t things that can be fixed.”
“Then why come back?”
You looked down at the pavement for a moment,“…Because maybe someone could have helped you carry it.”
The silence between you deepened. Eventually Mikey turned away from the streetlight,“We should move.”
You nodded and began walking beside him again. For a while neither of you spoke. Your footsteps echoed softly through the quiet streets of Tokyo as you searched for any sign of Takemichi or Naoto Tachibana. But after several minutes, you noticed something.
Mikey had grown quiet. Too quiet for your liking.
You glanced toward him. Another tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, almost annoyed at himself. But more followed.
Your steps slowed,“Mikey.”
“…I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” you said a little to strong. He sighed heavily,“I’m just tired.”
“No.”
You gently reached for his sleeve,“Come here.”
He looked confused as you guided him toward a small park bench beneath a tree. The two of you sat down. For a moment he stared at the ground, his shoulders tense.
Then suddenly— He broke. Aquiet collapse as his head dropped forward and his breathing grew uneven. You didn’t say anything. You simply pulled him into your arms. At first he stiffened. Like someone who had forgotten how to be comforted.
But then slowly— His body relaxed. His forehead pressed against your shoulder as the tears finally came freely. You held him quietly. No witnesses. No expectations. Just allowing him to cry. For the boy who never got that chance.
Minutes passed before he spoke again,“…When you described him…”
His voice trembled,“It felt like you were inside my head.”
Your fingers gently brushed through his golden hair,“I was just explaining what I saw.”
“You said I blamed myself,” he muffeld into your shirt.
“Yes.”
“…I still do.”
Your chest tightened,“For everything?”
“For everyone,"His voice cracked,“Baji.”...“Draken.”...“Everyone who died.”
You listened silently.
“I kept thinking… if I was stronger… if I made better choices… maybe they would still be alive.”
Your arms tightened slightly around him,“Mikey…”
“No,” he whispered,“Let me say it.”
You nodded softly.
“I thought being strong meant never breaking,”His fingers clenched slightly in your sleeve,“But all it did was turn me into someone who couldn’t feel anything anymore.”
The confession hung painfully between you. You tilted your head slightly so he could hear your voice clearly,“Strength isn’t about never breaking.”
He let out a shaky breath,“…Then what is it?”
“It’s about letting someone see you when you do.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then finally he asked something very small,“…Is that why you held me?”
“Yes.”
Your voice softened,“You deserve to be seen too.”
His breathing slowly steadied,“…You always understood things about people.”
“I studied psychology,” yo simply said.
“No,”He shook his head slightly,“You saw things even before that.”
Your heart fluttered,“…You noticed?”
“Yeah,”He lifted his head slightly to look at you,“You always looked at me like you were trying to understand something.”
Your cheeks warmed faintly,“I was.”
“Did you figure it out?”
You hesitated,“…Not completely.”
He waited. Your fingers tightened slightly around his jacket, “There was something else I never understood.”
“What?”
You took a slow breath,“…Why I cared so much about you. You were violent and cruel, yet caring...”
Mikey’s eyes widened slightly. You forced yourself to continue,“I told myself it was curiosity.”
Your voice softened,“But it wasn’t.”
Your heart pounded painfully in your chest,“I liked you. I liked you with all the cruel darkness you held.”
The confession lingered between you.
Silence followed. Mikey stared at you,“…Back then?”
You nodded,“Yes.”
“…When we were kids?”
“Yes.”
He blinked slowly,“…You had a crush on me?”
A small embarrassed laugh escaped you,“Yeah.”
He looked genuinely stunned,“You never said anything.”
“You were a gang leader surrounded by chaos,” you finally laughed, as you saw his expression.
“And?”
“And I was a girl studying psychology behind a store counter.”
His lips twitched faintly,“…You should’ve told me.”
You raised an eyebrow,“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?,” you asked sheepishly. Hoping to lighten the mood a little. Mikey looked at you quietly. Then he said something that made your chest stop,“…Because I liked you too.”
The words were almost shy. Something you had never expected from him.
Your breath caught,“Uhm...Wh-hat?”
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly,“You were different.”
“How?”
“You weren’t scared of me. You loved life, even if it reated you like shit. You had goals, were nice and you felt like something I could never be...”
He looked down briefly,“You looked at me like I was still a person.”
Your eyes burned again,“…You always were. Not always the beste person but....”
He shook his head softly,“Not in the future.”
You gently touched his cheek,“But you’re here now.”
The two of you sat quietly beneath the tree. Holding onto a fragile moment of honesty neither of you had ever allowed yourselves before.
Somewhere out there, Takemichi Hanagaki and Naoto Tachibana were still searching.
There you were, sitting in a park. Entangled into oneanother. Love confessed. Living in the moment. And most important of all Mikey Sano was no longer carrying his pain alone.
___ _ _ _
Mikey still rested his forehead against your shoulder, quiet sobs fading into shaky breaths. The city around you felt distant, almost unreal, as if only the two of you existed in this fragile bubble of silence. The weight of everything—the timelines, the loss, the pain—had been temporarily lifted, replaced by something simpler, something raw: the two of you, finally unguarded.
You shifted slightly, tilting your head so you could look at him. His golden hair fell in disarray and his eyes glistened in the soft light of the streetlamps. You could see every line of tension in his face, every unspoken fear, every fragment of himself that he had buried under years of strength and guilt.
Gently, you lifted your hand and cupped his chin. His eyes widened slightly, the vulnerability in them making your heart ache. You brushed a damp strand of hair from his face, letting your thumb graze his cheek softly.
“Mikey,” you whispered, your voice low, trembling, but steady,“You have to… do better. Not just for me, not just for everyone else… but for yourself.”
His lips parted slightly, unsure if he should speak, but he remained quiet, allowing you to continue.
“You’ve carried so much… and it’s broken you. But you’re not beyond growing. You can be someone worth being near. Someone who can protect the people who matter to him in a legal way. Someone… who can protect me.”
His breath hitched at the words, a shiver running through him. The raw honesty in your voice, the way you looked at him—not with fear, not with judgment, but with unwavering care—made something inside him crack open even further.
“I… I don’t know if I can,” he admitted, voice thick, trembling,“I’ve failed too many times…And honestly I dont know how....”
You shook your head gently, keeping your hand firm against his jaw,“No. You can. You will. I believe in you. And I… I need you to believe in yourself too.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion, with history, with all the unspoken moments between you.
Then, slowly, deliberately, you leaned forward. The world narrowed. His eyes locked onto yours, wide, shimmering, and something unspoken passed between you. You could feel the heat of him, the tremor in his chest, the fragile vulnerability he had never let anyone see—except now.
You pressed your lips to his. Softly at first, testing, tasting, letting him process, letting him respond. And he did. His hands moved hesitantly at first, brushing against your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t let go. The kiss deepened. It was slow, intimate, urgent, and tender all at once. Everything—years of fear, of distance, of pain, of longing—compressed into that single, infinite moment. You felt him exhale against your lips, releasing years of hurt, and you clung to him, letting him lean on you as much as you leaned on him.
When you finally pulled back slightly, your foreheads rested against each other. Your breath mingled. Your heart pounded in perfect synchrony. His hands held your face gently now, like he was memorizing every curve, every expression, every fragment of you.
“I’ve… never been seen like this,” he whispered, voice breaking again,“Not like this… by anyone.”
You smiled softly, your forehead still pressed to his,“Then don’t forget it. You’re not alone anymore. And… I’m not going anywhere. I will only walk away if you dont try...if you keep hurting people. I need to protect myself also...”
Mikey’s eyes glistened, shimmering under the streetlight, but for the first time, there was a small spark of hope in them. A flicker of something lighter, warmer, human.
“I… I’ll try,” he breathed, voice barely audible,“I’ll be someone worth being near.”
You nodded, brushing your thumb across his cheek, leaning in once more,“Then let’s start now.”
And this time, the kiss that followed wasn’t just comfort. It wasn’t just longing. It was the beginning of something new. Something that finally belonged to both of you—together.
The city around you could wait. The timelines could wait. Everything else could wait. It was this moment, the both of you waited for so long. Needed for so long. Even if this meant, that you once more would have to dive into his chaotic world. But you needed to, to let him build a better one.
For now, there was only this: warmth, closeness, and the fragile, perfect intimacy of two people who had finally found each other after a lifetime of chaos.
And as Mikey held you tightly, finally allowing himself to feel and be held, you knew—deep in your bones—that this moment, this connection, would be the anchor that could potentially change everything.
For the world he was so desperatly fighting to save.
___ _ _ _
Dear reader, this story presents a romanticised version of a rather toxic relationship. You cannot save or fix people, no matter how much you want to. Often, these are the catalysts for an unhealthy relationship, in which psychological abuse can also occur. Please always be aware of this.
So another Akashi story, this time Akashi (senior) x oc (junior), I have more information. While Akashi is more like the introvert type, basically doesn’t talks to anyone, is OC more like the loud and moodie extrovert. However, OC hates boys because they’ll the same, that’s why people always talk rustic about her cuz she’s so loud and fight with the guys, one day she studied in the library, and Akashi approached her and asked if he can sit infront of her. Well she was really uninterested and stunned why suddenly next to her, but she has not refused. Akashi did know her from the beginning of class, because she asked the principal at beginning of the semester something, while Akashi was there too, but she has not seen him. He fell in love with her because she was different than other. Honestly I think you can continue from here 😂
Love, library and books
Hi @piplup04, thanks for requesting again.
Thank you for asking for more details. However, I was confused about senior and junior. I just started writing without thinking too much about it. I hope it's what you had in mind. Enjoy reading!
___ _ _ _
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Akashi Seijuro x fem!reader
summary: See request above!
genre: romance, fluff, university
word count: 4.1k
The Rakuzan Academy was one of Tokyo's most prestigious universities. It was essentially the big brother of Rakuzan Middle School. Passing the university entrance exam presented you and your family with new ‘pleasant’ challenges: the high tuition fees.
But somehow your parents had managed it. And honestly, you were so grateful to them. So grateful that you couldn't bring yourself to tell your mother about the problems. The problems with your fellow students, the male ones that is. Just because you weren't conventionally “feminine”, they were constantly picking on you. And you fought back, and rightly so!
This quickly earned you the reputation of being an unpopular fellow student. Which in turn had led to the library and its silence becoming your favourite place.
___ _ _ _
The library was unusually quiet that afternoon. It was raining lightly outside; autumn weather had arrived in Tokyo in full force. It felt like yesterday when you had come to this university in autumn.
A little sunlight poured through the tall windows of the university library, stretching across the long wooden tables. Most students whispered softly, flipping pages or typing notes.
Except for you. You sat hunched over a pile of books, muttering under your breath,“Stupid statistics… stupid formulas… stupid professor…”
You aggressively scribbled something in your notebook, then crossed it out with enough force that the pen nearly tore the page.
A couple students at the next table glanced over,“Isn’t that the girl from econ class?” // “Yeah… the loud one.” // “The one who yelled at those guys last week?”
You heard them. Of course you did. You always heard. Your jaw tightened and you flipped another page harder than necessary. Boys were the worst.
Not only were they often unkempt, unfortunately, they were also conceited and arrogant. What gave these young men the right to say strange things to you and judge your femininity? What did it even mean to be feminine?
They were always laughing, always making comments, always whispering like you couldn’t hear them. Ever since high school, it had been the same thing: too loud, too aggressive, too dramatic. Whenever you fought back, they called you scary. When you ignored them, they mocked you louder.
So yeah. You pretty much hated them.
You leaned back in your chair with a frustrated sigh, rubbing your temple. Then a calm voice spoke beside you.
“Excuse me.”
You looked up. A tall red-haired man stood beside the table. His posture was straight, composed, and there was an unmistakable confidence in the way he carried himself.
His crimson eyes looked directly at you,“May I sit here?”
You blinked,“…Huh?”
You looked around the library. There were plenty of other empty tables. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously,“Why?”
The man didn’t seem bothered by your tone.
“The lighting is best here,” he replied calmly,“And you appear to be using only half the table.”
You stared at him. He stared back. Completely calm. He didnt smirk. There was also no teasing. No weird tone. It was weird. Just… direct.
“…Fine,” you muttered finally, shrugging. “Do whatever.”
“Thank you,”He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down gracefully, placing a few books on the table.
You watched him for a second: Weird guy.
Then you returned to your notes. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. The only sound was the quiet scratching of pens and the turning of pages.
Eventually, you looked up again. The red-haired guy was reading a thick economics textbook like it was the easiest thing in the world.
You squinted at him,“…You’re in economics too?”
“Yes.”
“What year?”
“Fourth.”
You blinked,“Oh your a senior?”
“Yes.”
You leaned back,“Then why are you reviewing second-year statistics?”
He closed the book gently and looked at you,“I tutor them occasionally.”
“Oh,”You stared at your page again. Your brain hurt. The formula made absolutely no sense. You groaned quietly,“…This is stupid.”
Across the table, the red-haired senior glanced at your notebook,“You substituted the variable incorrectly.”
Your head snapped up,“…Excuse me?”
He pointed lightly at your paper,“That step should be divided by n, not multiplied.”
You frowned, looking down,“…No it isn’t.”
“It is.”
You glared at him,“…You just trying to sound smart?”
He didn’t react. Instead, he calmly reached for your pen,“May I?”
You hesitated. Then pushed it toward him and muttered,“Fine.”
He rewrote the line neatly. When you followed the steps again…The answer suddenly worked. You stared,“…Oh.”
Silence. Then you cleared your throat,“Well…Thanks.”
He nodded slightly,“You’re welcome.”
You studied him again. He was back to reading like nothing happened. Still, no smug comment. Still no teasing. Why was he like that?? Boys usually only talked with or/and about you about your though antics.
Besids knowing more than you did, he didnt go: “see, I told you.”
Weird.
“…What’s your name?” you asked suddenly.
He looked up again,“Akashi Seijuro.”
You nearly choked,“Wait—Akashi?”
“The one from the student council?” you blurted.
“Yes,”he simply smiled.
“…The top student?,” you asked surprised.
“Yes.”
You stared at him like he had just told you he was the emperor of the world,“…Why are you sitting with me?”
His expression softened just slightly,“Because I wanted to.”
That answer made even less sense. You leaned back, crossing your arms,“You know people say I’m loud, right? Rebellious even...”
“I noticed.”
“I fight with guys a lot.”
“I noticed that as well,” he grinned.
“…And you still came over here.”
“Yes.”
Your eyes narrowed,“…Why?” Now he got you being curious. Akashi was quiet for a moment. Then he said calmly,“Because you are interesting.”
You blinked,“Interesting?”
“Yes.”
He rested his chin lightly on his hand,“On the first day of the semester, you marched into the principal’s office.”
Your eyes widened,“God…You saw that?”
“I was inside at the time.”
Your brain scrambled. Oh god. That day. You had stormed in complaining about the sports club guys hogging the basketball court and harassing first years. You had been furious. “…Wait,” you muttered. “You were there?”
“Yes.”
“And you still decided to talk to me?,” now it was your turn to look even dumber. You just couldnt figure out what exactly was his why? His reason? What did he see in you?
Akashi’s lips curved into the faintest smile,“You were the only person willing to argue with the principal without fear.”
You groaned and covered your face,“…That’s embarrassing.”
“I found it admirable.”
You peeked through your fingers,“…You’re weird.”
“Possibly.”
Silence settled again. But somehow…The silence didn’t feel awkward. You studied him again. You wanted a solution to this riddle. He was calm. Composed. Elegant. Completely different from the loud, arrogant guys you were used to dealing with.
“…You don’t make fun of people much, do you?” you asked.
“No.”
“…Why not?”
“Because it is unnecessary.”
Your shoulders relaxed slightly,“…Huh.”
Akashi returned to his book. But after a moment, he said quietly, “You are also incorrect about one thing.”
“What?,” you asked curiously.
“Not all boys are awful.”
You snorted,“Thats VERY Debatable.”
He looked up at you again. Those crimson eyes were gentle now,“Then allow me to prove otherwise.”
Your heart skipped,“Uhm excuse me…What???”
Akashi closed his book,“Would you like help studying?”
You blinked,“…You offering to tutor me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His answer came without hesitation,“Because I would like to spend more time with you...and you needed a reason. Otherwise you wouldnt believe me talking to you."
Your brain froze. Your face warmed instantly. He was right. You did wonder why he talked to you. Why he talked to you like that,“…You’re really straightforward, huh?”
“I prefer clarity.”
You stared at him. Then laughed softly despite yourself,“…Fine, Mr. tutor.”
Akashi’s eyes softened at the nickname. You didn’t feel like every boy in the world was against you. Across the table, Akashi Seijuro simply smiled faintly. And thought to himself—She truly is fascinating.
And he had no intention of letting her disappear from his life.
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Akashi Seijurox fem!reader
summary: You aka reader is under a lot of pressure (given to her by her parents) to perform well academically. But a rainy night, on a university trip changes everything. You meet Akashi, the only person who understands your situation and knows what it's like when no one is proud of you. So aconnection develops.
genre: romance, more of an academic piece I would say (sorry basketball fans Q-Q)
word count: 4.2k
You couldn't say that you or your family lacked anything. Your father was a car mechanic in one of the big garages and your mother worked in one of the expensive hairdressing salons in the town centre. That had earned you a small house on the outskirts of town, bought before everything became so expensive. Your parents, you and your two siblings were actually a good family. Actually...
The little butter yellow house was always quiet in the mornings.
But it wasnt the comforting kind of quiet, but the sort that made every sound feel like a mistake—the scrape of a chair, the clink of a spoon against porcelain, the soft thud of a book placed on the table. You learned early to move carefully in that silence.
You sat at the small kitchen table with your notebook open in front of you, the pale morning light slipping through the curtains and settling over the pages. Numbers, formulas, notes written in neat handwriting. You had rewritten them twice already.
Just in case. Also because the first time you were in a hurry. They didnt look nice.
Across from you, your mother stirred her tea slowly. Seemed like the honey didnt wanted to melt. Your mother always drank her tea with something sweet. But it had to be natural, of course. Refined sugar was too unhealthy, as she always said.
She had already finished reading the morning news on her tablet. The screen had gone dark, leaving only your reflection faintly visible in it—straight posture, tidy hair, uniform pressed to perfection.
“Did you review your notes for the mathematics exam pumpkin?” she asked. Her voice was calm. Always calm. By now, you couldn't stand that nickname anymore. You were twenty-four now. You shouldn't be named after vegetables anymore.
You nodded,“Yes.”
“How many times?,” she asked, still staring at her tea.
“Three,”you simply replied.
The spoon paused for a moment in her cup. “That should be enough,” she said after a second, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced.
Your fingers tightened slightly around your pen. You had expected that. Your mother wasn’t unkind. In fact, she often did you small favours and surprised you with little things. Such as your favourite snacks or something. She always made sure you had everything you needed—books, tutoring when necessary, a quiet place to study. She packed your lunch every morning and reminded you to wear a scarf when it was cold.
She loved you. You knew that. But love, in your house, was measured in expectations.
“We didn’t have the opportunities you do,” she continued, eyes lowering to her cup again,“Your father and I worked very hard to have this life and to give you this.”
You nodded again, though you had heard this many times before. Your father had grown up in a small town, your mother in a cramped apartment shared with three siblings. Neither of them had attended prestigious schools. Neither of them had been given chances to stand out.
So they created those chances for you. Or rather, you had goals and expectations. Expectations that grew higher and higher the more you pursued your dreams. At first, you had only completed secondary school. Your grades were surprisingly good enough to allow you to pursue the next higher qualification, which, as expected, you also achieved. After that, your parents moved heaven and earth so that you could go to university.
“You’re capable of more than average,” she said.
Average. That word always lingered in the air longer than the others. Your grades were good—excellent, even. Teachers praised your discipline. You studied longer than most of your classmates and rarely complained.
Still. There was always something more you could do. You could study one hour longer. You could revise one more chapter. You could aim one step higher.
Your mother finally looked up at you,“Pumpkin, if you would just try a little harder, you would be at the top. I know that you can do this.”
You forced a small smile,“I’ll do my best.”
Her gaze softened just slightly,“I know you will.”
That was the closest thing to affection you usually received in the mornings. You finished your tea quietly before standing to gather your bag. Your notebooks slid neatly into place, each subject separated by colored tabs. Organized. Prepared. Perfectly in order.
Just the way things were supposed to be.
At the door, your mother called after you. “Remember,” she said gently, “effort matters more than talent.”
You paused, slipping on your shoes,“I know.”
“People who rely on talent alone eventually fall behind,”Her words were steady, certain.
So you nodded again.
___ _ _ _
Outside, the air was cool and bright, the early city humming with the start of another day. Students passed by in small groups, laughing and talking, their voices light and careless.
You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. Careless wasn’t something you had the luxury of being. Because trying your best wasn’t optional.
Trying your best was the minimum.
And even then— Sometimes, it still wasn’t enough. You exhaled slowly and began the walk to school, unaware that soon, someone who had never known the meaning of not enough would step into your carefully controlled world.
Someone who had always stood at the very top.
Someone who had never once been told that effort alone would be enough: Seijuro Akashi.
Second place. The words sat at the top of the page like a quiet accusation. You stared at the posted exam rankings on the bulletin board, eyes tracing the list for the third time even though you already knew what it said.
1. Akashi, Seijuro
2. Y/n
Again. Well, it wasn’t new. It had been like this since the beginning of the term. You had told yourself it didn’t matter. That second place was still good. Still something most students would be proud of. Your teachers certainly were.
“You’re doing excellent work,” one of them had said just yesterday.
Excellent. But not the best. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides.
Behind you, students whispered, “Of course Akashi got first again.” // “Isn’t he amazing?” // “I heard he barely even studies.” // “Genius.”
You forced yourself to step away from the board before anyone noticed how long you had been standing there. It wasn’t his fault. You repeated that to yourself as you walked down the hallway.
It wasn’t his fault.
Still— You hated seeing his name above yours. Seijuro Akashi.
Everyone knew him. Even if you had never actually spoken to him, it was impossible not to notice him.
He carried himself differently from everyone else, like the space around him naturally belonged to him. Calm. Composed. Perfect posture. Perfect grades. Perfect reputation. And always, always first.
You had seen him in class, answering questions without hesitation. Teachers nodding approvingly. Students looking at him with a mix of admiration and intimidation. You wondered sometimes if he even realized how easily things came to him. How unfair it felt. Because while he seemed effortlessly brilliant— You were tired.
___ _ _ _
The library was quiet that evening. Unsurprisingly, since everything had only just started again, none of your classmates were thinking about exam preparation yet. Well except you. You simply had to. It was the kind of quiet you usually liked.
Tall windows let the fading sunlight spill across rows of bookshelves. Dust floated lazily in the air, the faint scent of paper and ink wrapping around the room.
You had been there for hours. Your notebook was filled with calculations and rewritten notes. Pages flipped back and forth as you tried again and again to solve a problem you already understood.
Just to be sure. Just to be better, but your head ached. The numbers blurred in front of you. Your pen tapped against the table in a slow, restless rhythm. You rubbed your eyes.
Focus. You had to stay ahead. You had to—
A chair slid across the floor somewhere behind you. You ignored it at first. Students came and went all the time. Then a familiar voice spoke quietly to the librarian. the voice was calm, with a polite tone. The word spoken were also super controlled.
Your stomach tightened. You didn’t need to look to know who it was. Still, your eyes lifted despite yourself.
Across the library, near the large windows, he sat down at a table: Seijuro Akashi.
Even from a distance, he was unmistakable. His red hair caught the last light of the sunset, the color deep and striking against the pale glow of the room. He opened a book calmly, posture straight, movements unhurried. Composed. Effortless.
You felt something hot twist in your chest. Of course he's here.
Of course he would be studying too. Because apparently even perfection had time to prepare. You looked back down at your notes, gripping your pen harder. Ignore him.
You bent over your notebook again. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You tried to focus on the numbers. But every few seconds your eyes drifted across the room. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t scribbling notes like you. He was simply reading. reading like he enjoyed studying. Turning pages slowly.
As if none of this required effort. Your jaw tightened. Another fifteen minutes passed. You made a mistake in your calculations. Then another. You erased them too harshly, the paper thinning beneath the friction. Your head throbbed. Your chest felt tight. Second place. AGAIN. BECAUSE OF HIM!
Your mother's voice echoed in your memory: "I expect you to place at the top of your class."
Your hand trembled slightly. Across the room, Akashi turned another page. Calm. Untouched by frustration. And something inside you finally snapped: The chair legs scraped loudly against the floor as you pushed yourself to your feet. A few students looked up. You barely noticed.
Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you marched across the library. Akashi looked up just as you reached his table. His expression remained composed, curious perhaps, but not surprised. That calmness made it worse.
“You!” you burst out. Your voice echoed louder than you expected in the quiet room. Several heads turned. You didn’t care,“Do you have any idea how frustrating you are?!”
The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. Akashi blinked once. Slowly,“…I beg your pardon?”
“You’re always first!” you continued, voice shaking now with something between anger and exhaustion,“Every exam, every ranking—you're always there!”
Students were definitely staring now. The librarian looked alarmed. But the frustration had been building for weeks, months even. You couldn’t stop.
“I study every day,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “I work so hard, and it still isn’t enough because you’re always there like it’s nothing!”
Akashi remained seated. Watching you carefully. He wasnt offended, also not angry. Just… attentive. That somehow made your eyes burn.
“I don’t even know why I try,” you muttered bitterly. “No matter what I do, I’m just second.”
The words hung in the quiet library. For the first time since you started yelling, silence settled around you. Your breathing slowed slightly. And suddenly you became painfully aware of where you were. What you had just done. Your face heated. “…forget it,” you mumbled, looking away.
You turned, ready to escape before the humiliation swallowed you whole—
“Second place,” Akashi said calmly behind you, “is hardly a failure.”
You froze. Slowly, you looked back. He had closed his book. His red eyes rested on you with quiet focus,“Especially when you are competing against me.”
Your eyebrows pulled together,“…what?”
Akashi smiled. Just slightly. “I was wondering,” he said thoughtfully, “how long it would take before you finally spoke to me.”
___ _ _ _
The bus ride was loud. Too loud for your liking. Students talked over one another, music leaked from someone’s headphones, and every few minutes someone laughed far too loudly in the back rows.
You sat by the window with your arms folded, watching the landscape pass by. Fields. Some small villages. Long stretches of forest.
This excursion had been announced a week ago as a “learning experience outside the classroom.” No one had given many details, which meant most students assumed it would be a relaxed trip. You weren’t convinced. You only did it because your mum thought it would look good on your CV. Your notebook rested on your lap anyway. Preparation never hurt.
The bus finally rolled to a stop near the edge of a large forested valley. Students poured out into the cool morning air, stretching and chatting excitedly. You stepped down more slowly. The place was rather quiet. Pine trees towered overhead, their shadows stretching across the dirt clearing. Somewhere nearby, water trickled softly.
Beautiful.Suspiciously beautiful.
Your professor clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention,“Alright, everyone! Gather around!” Students shuffled closer.
“Since this is an academic excursion,” he continued, smiling in a way that instantly made you suspicious, “you will have an assignment.”
Groans erupted immediately. You stayed silent. Of course there was an assignment.
“We have hidden a location somewhere in this forest area,” he explained. “You have two days to find it. The coordinates are not given directly, but clues have been placed along several routes.”
He held up a small folded paper,“Each of you will receive the first clue. From there, you’ll need to follow the trail.”
Someone raised a hand,“Are we allowed to work together?”
“You may if you wish,” the professor said,“But the final report must be written individually.”
That meant most students would split up eventually. You accepted your paper when it was handed to you. A riddle. Of course. You read it carefully: Where water bends and stone remembers,
Take the path the shadows favor....
You looked toward the forest. Several trails disappeared into the trees. Your eyes narrowed. You would figure it out. You always did.
___ _ _ _
At first, things went well. You followed a path along a small stream, solving two clues fairly quickly. Markers tied to tree branches confirmed you were on the correct route. You allowed yourself a small feeling of satisfaction. Good.
Maybe this time—
The trail forked. Left or right. You studied the third clue again: When the sun hides behind the tallest crown, the quiet road will lead you down.
You looked up at the trees. They all looked tall. Your lips pressed together. Left seemed slightly darker. You turned left.
Two hours later, you realized something was wrong. There were no more markers. The path had grown narrow, barely visible beneath fallen leaves. Your map showed trails nearby… but none exactly where you stood. You checked the compass again. Your chest tightened slightly.
No…
You walked faster. Then slower. Then turned back. But somehow every direction looked the same. Same pine trees, rocks. An endless forest. The sun slowly lowered in the sky. And the sinking realization finally hit you. You were lost. Night in the forest came quickly. The temperature dropped with the fading sunlight, and the shadows between the trees deepened until everything became a blur of dark shapes.
Your small camping lantern glowed weakly beside your tent. A tent you had set up with shaking hands. You sat on a fallen log, arms wrapped around yourself. You were tired. Your feet hurt. And frustration burned in your chest.
Of course this would happen.
You had taken the wrong path. Careless. Stupid. Your mother’s voice whispered in the back of your mind: If you had prepared better…
You pressed your face into your hands. A branch snapped nearby.
You froze. Your head lifted slowly. Shit, footsteps. Your heart immediately began pounding.
“Hello?” you called cautiously. The footsteps stopped. For a second, the forest was completely silent. Then a familiar voice spoke calmly from the darkness.
“…I suspected I might find someone here.”
Your eyes widened. A figure stepped into the lantern light. Red hair. Composed posture. Annoyingly calm expression. Akashi???
You stared at him in disbelief,“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Akashi tilted his head slightly,“I take it you are not pleased to see me.”
You stood up quickly,“Why are you here?! This is completely the wrong route...”
“I took this route intentionally,” he replied calmly.
Your eyes narrowed,“What?”
“It’s a shortcut.”
You blinked,“…a shortcut?”
“Yes,”He glanced briefly at your tent, the lantern, and the scattered supplies around your small camp.
Then his gaze returned to you,“You on the other hand, appear to have taken a wrong turn.”
Your eye twitched,“I noticed.”
Akashi hummed softly,“I learned about the assignment from a senior student last year,” he continued,“This route leads closer to the final destination.”
You stared at him,“So you cheated.”
“I prefer the term prepared.”
You scoffed loudly,“Unbelievable.”
Despite your irritation, you noticed something odd. He wasn’t carrying much. Just a small backpack. And he looked… relaxed. Not smug. Not mocking. Just calm.
“…You’re camping too?” you asked suspiciously.
“Yes,”He gestured casually toward a small clearing nearby.
“I planned to rest here tonight before continuing in the morning.”
Your arms crossed automatically,“Well, great.”
Silence settled between you. The lantern flickered softly. Then Akashi spoke again,“Have you eaten yet?”
You blinked,“…what?”
“Dinner.”
Your stomach chose that exact moment to betray you with a quiet growl. Your face flushed. Akashi pretended not to notice. “I have extra food,” he said simply,“You are welcome to share it.”
You hesitated. Part of you wanted to refuse purely out of stubborn pride. But you were tired. And hungry,“…fine.”
He gave a small nod. Soon the two of you sat near a small camping stove, heating simple packaged food. The quiet forest surrounded you. You watched him cautiously.
“You’re not what I expected,” you muttered after a while. Akashi glanced at you,“In what sense?”
“You’re… less arrogant.”
His lips curved slightly,“That is a curious compliment.”
“I didn’t compliment you.”
“You implied it.”
You huffed. But after a moment… You found yourself smiling faintly too. Seijuro Akashi didn’t feel like an unbeatable rival. Just someone sitting beside you in the quiet woods.
___ _ _ _
The rain started sometime after a little midnight. At first it was soft—gentle drops tapping against the fabric of your tent like quiet fingers. You shifted slightly in your sleeping bag, half-awake, listening to the steady rhythm. Then the rain grew heavier. A lot heavier. Wind rustled the treetops, and the forest filled with the sound of water falling through branches. You sighed sleepily and rolled onto your side.
At least your tent was holding. I mean it should, it was new.
A sudden muttered curse outside made your eyes snap open. You pushed yourself up, blinking toward the entrance of the tent.
“…hello?” you called quietly. There was a pause. Then Akashi’s voice answered from somewhere nearby,“…It would appear I underestimated the weather.”
You frowned,“What does that mean?”
Another pause,“…My tent is leaking.”
You pushed the flap open and peeked outside. The lantern’s weak light showed Akashi crouched beside his tent, rain dripping steadily through the fabric roof. Water was literally dripping onto his sleeping bag.
You stared,“…wow.”
He looked up at you calmly despite the situation,“Your sympathy is overwhelming.”
You hesitated for a moment. Then sighed,“…Do you want to sleep in my tent?”
Akashi blinked. Just once,“I would not wish to impose.”
“You’re already soaked, and looking horrible” you said bluntly, “And I’d rather not listen to you suffer all night.”
That earned the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes,“…Very well.”
Five minutes later you realized something important. Your tent was not designed for two people. Especially not with both of your backpacks, sleeping bags, and various supplies shoved inside. You sat awkwardly with your knees bent, shoulders brushing the tent wall.
Across from you—very close across from you—Akashi adjusted his sleeping bag with careful precision. There was barely any space between you. Your knees touched. Your shoulders touched. Even your feet were pressed against each other under the cramped layers of fabric. It was… warm. It felt cozy. The rain drummed softly above you, turning the small tent into a quiet little world.
Akashi leaned back slightly against the tent wall,“…This is surprisingly comfortable.”
You snorted,“You’re kidding.”
“It is warm,” he said simply. You shifted slightly. Your arm brushed his. Neither of you moved away. Silence settled for a moment. Then you spoke quietly,“…Sorry.”
Akashi glanced at you,“For what?”
“For… yelling at you in the library,”Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeping bag,“I was… kind of awful.”
He studied you for a moment. Then he shook his head slightly,“No.”
You blinked,“No?”
“I understood.”
Your brows furrowed,“How?”
Akashi rested his head back against the tent wall, red hair falling slightly over his eyes. “For people like us,” he said calmly,“results carry a great deal of weight.”
You stared at him,“…people like us?”
His gaze shifted toward the tent ceiling,“My family does not tolerate failure.”
You went very still.
“My father expects perfection,” Akashi continued quietly. “Second place would be considered unacceptable.”
Your eyes widened slightly,“But… you’re always first.”
“Yes,”His voice remained calm,“But the expectation remains the same.”
The rain continued falling steadily outside. You felt something twist gently in your chest,“…So if you weren’t first…”
“My father would consider it a disappointment.”
You sat there in silence. That sounded… Uncomfortably familiar. “…My mom is kind of like that,” you admitted softly. Akashi looked at you again.
“She wants me to succeed more than she ever could,” you continued. “But no matter how hard I try, it always feels like it’s not enough,”Your voice dropped slightly,“And then there’s you.”
He raised an eyebrow,“Yes. I do seem to cause problems for you.”
You huffed,“But now I find out you’re under the same pressure.”
“In a sense.”
You stared at him for a moment. Really looked at him. Without the distance of a classroom. Without the frustration clouding your thoughts. His expression was softer here in the lantern light. His red eyes reflected the warm glow, and his hair fell slightly messy from the rain. He was… Your brain stalled for a second.…actually really beautiful.
You quickly looked away. Akashi tilted his head slightly,“…Is something wrong?”
Your face felt suspiciously warm,“No.” You pulled your sleeping bag up slightly. Just to hide your face a little,“…Nothing’s wrong.”
But as the rain continued falling softly outside, and the small tent filled with quiet warmth— You couldn’t stop noticing how close he was. Or how strangely comfortable that felt.
___ _ _ _
Morning arrived quietly. The rain had stopped, leaving the forest cool and damp. Sunlight filtered through the tall trees, scattering pale gold across the ground. You stretched slightly inside the tent, immediately reminded of how cramped the space was when your elbow bumped into Akashi’s arm.
“…good morning,” he said calmly. His voice sounded far too awake for someone who had slept in a tent barely big enough for one person.
You rubbed your eyes,“Morning.”
For a moment you both just sat there, listening to the forest waking around you. Birds chirped somewhere above. Water dripped softly from the branches. Then you remembered the assignment. Your head snapped up,“The destination!”
Akashi was already reaching for his bag,“Yes.”
You crawled out of the tent quickly, stretching your stiff legs. The forest smelled fresh after the rain. The ground was slightly muddy, but the path ahead was clearer now in the morning light. Akashi checked the map,“We should be close.”
You followed him through the trees for another twenty minutes before the forest finally opened into a small clearing. And there— A wooden marker stood in the center of the field. Your professor sat nearby with a thermos in his hand. He looked up as you both stepped into the clearing. Then he smiled.
“Well,” he said, checking his watch,“looks like you two are the first to arrive.”
You blinked,“First?”
Akashi nodded slightly beside you,“Indeed.”
Your professor chuckled,“Congratulations. Seems you’ll be sharing the top result for this assignment.”
For the first time since this whole competition started—There was no second place. You glanced at Akashi. He glanced back. A small, knowing smile appeared on his lips.
___ _ _ _
A week later, the library felt different. You sat at the same table as before, books spread neatly in front of you. But this time— Someone sat across from you. Akashi flipped through a textbook calmly. You tapped your pen against your notebook,“…This question doesn’t make sense.”
He leaned slightly closer to look at your page.
“It does,” he said.
“Explain.”
He pointed at a formula,“You overlooked this step.”
Your eyes widened,“…oh.”
He leaned back again. “Your work is excellent,” he added calmly,“You simply rush when you become frustrated.”
You narrowed your eyes,“Don’t analyze me.”
“I merely observe.”
You huffed. But a small smile tugged at your lips. Because studying no longer felt like a lonely battle. Not when Seijuro Akashi sat across from you. Who was just looking at your lips and was seductively close.
___ _ _ _
When Akashi invited you to his home to study, you assumed it would be… nice. Maybe a large apartment. Maybe a quiet house somewhere outside the city. You did not expect a villa. The taxi stopped in front of tall iron gates, and you stared through the window in stunned silence.
Behind them stretched a long, stone driveway lined with carefully trimmed trees. At the end stood an enormous traditional estate—elegant wooden architecture, wide windows glowing softly in the evening light, and a courtyard garden that looked like it belonged in a historical magazine.
You slowly stepped out of the car,“…You live here?”
Akashi, standing beside you as if this were the most normal thing in the world, nodded,“My family residence, yes.”
Your eyes moved from the gates… to the house… to the gardens,“You didn’t mention you were rich rich.”
A faint smile touched his lips,“I assumed you had already deduced that.”
You scoffed quietly,“Not this rich.”
Inside, the house was just as overwhelming. Dark polished wood, high ceilings, quiet hallways decorated with traditional paintings and delicate ceramics. Everything looked expensive, but not in a loud way. More like it had simply… always been there. Generations of wealth. You followed Akashi into a quiet study room overlooking the inner courtyard.
“This room should be suitable,” he said. You set your bag down slowly. “Yeah,” you muttered,“I think it’ll do.”
Hours passed surprisingly quickly. Books spread across the table. Notes scattered between you. Occasionally you argued about a solution, occasionally one of you explained something the other had overlooked. It felt strangely natural now. Comfortable.
When you finally leaned back in your chair with a tired sigh, the sky outside had already turned dark. Akashi closed his book,“You look exhausted. Y/n”
“I am exhausted.”
He stood,“Come.”
You followed him through a sliding door into the courtyard. And immediately stopped. The garden was beautiful. Soft lantern light illuminated a small koi pond surrounded by carefully placed stones and moss. The water shimmered quietly beneath the moonlight, colorful fish gliding slowly beneath the surface.
The night air was cool and peaceful. You sat down on the wooden edge of the pond beside him. For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply watched the koi swim.
“…It’s really quiet here,” you murmured.
“Yes.”
“Peaceful.”
“It usually is.”
Your reflection shimmered faintly in the water. Then the words slipped out before you could stop them,“I wish my house felt like this.”
Akashi glanced at you,“…Does it not?”
You shook your head slowly,“No.”
Your fingers played with the sleeve of your sweater. “My mom isn’t… cruel you know,” you said carefully. “She just…” You struggled to find the words,“…expects everything.”
Akashi remained silent, listening.
“I know why,” you continued quietly. “She had a hard life. My parents both did. They worked so hard to give me opportunities they never had.”
Your voice grew softer,“So I have to succeed.”
“That is understandable,” Akashi said gently.
You nodded,“But no matter how well I do…” Your throat tightened slightly,“…it’s never enough.” The koi rippled the water softly.
“I just want to hear her say she’s proud of me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper,“Just once.” The words hung in the cool night air,“But I know that won’t happen.”
Akashi’s gaze softened,“Why?”
“Because if she says that,” you said quietly, “it means I’ve reached the goal.”
Your fingers clenched slightly,“And if I’ve reached the goal… then there’s nowhere higher left for me to go.”
The silence that followed felt heavy. You stared down at the water.
“I don’t even know what I want,” you admitted,“My dreams don’t really matter.”
Your voice trembled slightly,“I just… keep trying to be good enough.”
Before you realized it—Akashi had moved closer. One of his arms wrapped gently around your shoulders. You stiffened slightly in surprise. Then he pulled you softly against him. You could feel the steady warmth of his chest, the calm rhythm of his breathing.
“…Akashi?”
“You are good enough,” he said quietly.
The words were simple. But something about the way he said them made your chest ache. You didn’t respond. Instead, you leaned into him slightly. His arm remained around you. And the two of you simply sat there beside the koi pond, the moon reflecting across the water as the quiet night wrapped gently around you both.
___ _ _ _
The mid-year exams were the most important tests of the semester. Everyone knew it. The library had been packed for weeks. Students studying late into the night, whispering formulas and theories under their breath like quiet prayers. You had been there almost every evening. Math had always been your weakest subject. Not terrible. But not natural either.
You had rewritten notes, solved problem sets again and again, and spent hours reviewing things that seemed to come effortlessly to others. Especially to him. Still, you worked. Harder than ever. Because this time… you really wanted it to be enough.
___ _ _ _
The results were posted on the board outside the lecture hall. A crowd had already gathered. You approached slowly, heart pounding harder with every step. Your eyes scanned the list. First. Second. Then—Your name: Third.
Your stomach dropped. Third. Your chest tightened as you read it again, just to be sure. You hadn’t failed. Not even close. Third place out of the entire course was still excellent. Objectively. But your throat felt tight anyway. Above your name were two others: 1. Akashi, Seijuro
Of course. And another student in second. Which meant…
For the first time since the semester began— You had fallen even further. Your fingers curled slightly. You didn’t wait for Akashi. You just left. Your mother was quiet when you told her. That kind of quiet you had grown up understanding. Disappointment.
“Third?” she repeated slowly. You nodded.
“That is still a good result,” she said carefully.
But her tone… Her tone said everything else,“I thought you said you had been studying very hard.”
Your chest tightened,“I did.”
Another pause,“…I see.”
That was all. No yelling. No anger. Just that same quiet disappointment that always felt worse. You left the house soon after.
Because if you stayed there any longer— You were afraid you might break. The park was quiet in the evening. The sky had already begun turning orange and purple, the last light of sunset stretching across the trees. You walked without really thinking about where you were going. Your chest felt tight. Your eyes burned. You kept hearing her voice.
Third. I thought you studied hard.
You swallowed hard. You had studied. For months. But it still wasn’t enough. Your steps slowed as a familiar sound echoed across the park. A basketball bouncing. Your head lifted. Across the small court, someone moved smoothly across the pavement, dribbling the ball with practiced ease. Red hair.
Your heart jumped. Before you even realized what you were doing— Your feet were moving. You ran. Akashi caught the ball easily when he saw you approaching.
His brows lifted slightly,“ Y/n…You look distressed.”
That was all it took. The tightness in your chest snapped. “I got third,” you blurted out. Your voice trembled,“I studied for months, and I still only got third Seijuro!”
Akashi set the basketball aside immediately. You barely noticed. “I tried so hard,” you continued, your breathing uneven. “I stayed up late, I practiced everything, and it still wasn’t enough!”
Your eyes burned now,“My mom was so disappointed.”
Your voice cracked,“I’m just so tired of trying and still not being good enough.”
For a moment, Akashi simply watched you. Then he stepped closer. “Did you give it your all?” he asked quietly. You blinked,“…what?”
“I asked you, if you did give everything you could?”
You nodded immediately,“Yes.”
“Did you neglect your studies?”
“No.”
“Did you waste time when you should have been preparing?”
“No!”Your voice shook,“I worked as hard as I could!”
Akashi studied your face carefully. Then he nodded once,“Then you have nothing to blame yourself for.”
You stared at him,“But—”
“You did your best Y/n,”His voice was calm. Certain,“And that is enough.”
Your throat tightened,“But it wasn’t enough for—”
“I am proud of you,”The words hit you like a sudden wave. Your breath caught. Akashi’s red eyes were steady on yours. “You worked harder than anyone else I know,” he continued quietly. “Your dedication is admirable.”
Your vision blurred suddenly,“I’m proud of you.”
The tears came before you could stop them. Your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to wipe your face. But Akashi stepped closer. Very gently—He placed his hands on your cheeks. You froze. His thumbs brushed away the tears under your eyes. “Look at me,” he murmured softly. Your gaze lifted. His face was so close now. His expression softer than you had ever seen it.
“For me,” he said quietly, “you have always been good enough.”
Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. The world felt very small suddenly. Just you. And him. Akashi held your face carefully as he leaned closer. His lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. Warm, caring, almost a little hesitant.
For a moment you simply stood there in shock. Then your fingers slowly curled into the fabric of his shirt. When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours. You didn’t feel like you were failing.
You felt like you were enough.
___ _ _ _
In case no one has told you this yet: I am proud of you, and you should be too! Whatever you do, you do it for yourself!
GOM + Kagami: Seeing their s/o dolled up for the first time
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: GOM + Kagami x fem!reader
summary: Young people really only know leserin in her very practical everyday look. leserin is a high-achiever, and to maintain this status, she has to invest a lot of time. But you can always dress up for a date with your boyfriend or crush, can’t you? Whilst the reader wonders if it might be a bit much, the lads are shocked by the transformation. Enjoy the read!
genre: romance, comedy, fashion
word count: 7k
Tetusya Kuroko
Normally, you didn’t think twice about what you wore—jeans, a simple T-shirt, maybe sneakers. Practical, comfortable, nothing distracting. You had other priorities, and fashion had never really made the list. That’s not to say you weren’t interested in fashion, but there simply wasn’t any time for it in your life.
You checked your reflection for the fifth time: this, the outfit… it was a lot. But today was special. Kuroko had asked you to a little picknick date with him and Nigou in the local park. He knew how much you loved the cherry blossoms.
Through the mirror, you look at your figure and the outfit you and your best friend Millie put together. Millie had insisted that you really go for it. And you did go for it:
A soft of-white summer dress flowed gently around your legs, light and airy, the fabric catching the breeze when you moved. Your sandals with tiny heels—simple, but adorned with tiny bows—clicked quietly against the pavement. Your hair was styled half-up, half-down, framing your face in a way you weren’t used to seeing.
And the makeup…well it was barely there to be honest. But Millie ensisted to give you a fresh little face. Just enough blush, a hint of mascara, and a soft pink gloss that made your lips shine in the sunlight. As Millie put it: It made you look very kissable. She was right, you’ve been with Testuya for a month now, but neither of you had dared to take it further. But you really wanted to.
You picked up your small strawberry-shaped handbag and hesitated.
“…It’s just a picnic,” you whispered to yourself.
But still, it was with him. And you finally wanted to be kissed by him.
___ _ _ _
When you arrived at the park, Tetsuya was already there, sitting quietly on the grass beside a neatly prepared picnic blanket. Of course he was. He was such a gentleman and literally a green forest.
You took a breath and stepped closer,“…Tetsu?”
He looked up. And immediately froze in motion. You blinked,“…Um. Hi? Sorry for being late...”
No response from him. His crystal clear blue eyes widened. Just a little bit, but for him, this reaction was huge. His usual calm, unreadable expression slipped, replaced by something unmistakably surprised.
“…Oh,” he said softly. You shifted awkwardly,“Is something wrong?”
He stood up a little too quickly, almost fumbling the movement.
“No,” he said, a bit faster than usual,“Nothing is wrong Y/n.”
A pause. Then, quieter,“You look… very nice.”
Your heart skipped,“Oh—thank you Tetsu.”
He nodded, but his gaze didn’t leave you. “…Very nice actually” he repeated, as if confirming it to himself. You felt heat creep into your cheeks,“You already said that…”
“I did,” he admitted. Another little pause. Then, almost like he couldn’t stop himself: “The dress suits you,” he added,“And your hair. And… your bag.”
You glanced down at the strawberry handbag, suddenly self-conscious. “…This?”
“Yes.”
His voice softened even more,“It’s cute. Like you.”
You froze,“Tetsu—”
He immediately looked away, and for once—actually looked flustered. A faint blush dusted across his cheeks, his usual composure slipping in the most endearing way. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly,“That may have been too direct.”
“No, it’s just—” you tried to gather your thoughts, your face definitely warm now,“You’re just not usually this… talkative.”
“I see,”He hesitated, then looked back at you—still a little pink,“…But I wanted to say it properly.”
That made your chest tighten.
“Because you made an effort,” he continued quietly,“I think it’s important to acknowledge that.”
You smiled, softer now,“You noticed?”
“Yes, of course,”A small pause on his end, then he spoke again,“…It’s hard not to, you look stunning.”
That did not help your heartrate, it felt like it was going to explode.. He glanced away again, clearly trying to regain his usual calm.
“…I’m glad you came,” he said,“I was looking forward to this.”
“I was too,” you admitted, trying not to show how red your face really was. He nodded, then gestured to the blanket,“Please sit.”
You did, smoothing your dress as you settled down. He sat across from you, movements careful, but there was still that lingering softness in his expression. A moment passed. Then he spoke again. “…Your lip gloss,” he said suddenly. You blinked,“What about it?”
“It’s nice,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “It suits you as well.”
You stared at him,“Kuroko.”
“Yes?”
“…Are you going to keep listing things you like about me?”
He paused. Then, very honestly he answered,“…Probably.”
You covered your face with your hands, laughing despite yourself. “I can’t handle that all at once…”
“I understand,” he said calmly. A tiny pause,“…I can slow down.”
You peeked at him—and sure enough, he was still blushing slightly. And somehow, that made everything feel even softer.
Taiga Kagami
The exams were finally over and life was going to get easier again. Now you only had to focus on one thing: your sport. Over the last few years, you’d become something of a football idol among the younger generation. Hard work had got you there, much to the chagrin of your friends. And your crush, Taiga, too.
But now that you’d passed your exams and there was less sport and training, you’d suggested we let our hair down one evening and go out and have a party. Dancing until the night wore away… that was exactly what you needed right now.
You adjusted the hem of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time. This was so not your usual scene, as you got dressed. Normally, you lived in sportswear—breathable shorts, jerseys, track jackets. Everything about your life revolved around soccer: training, matches, stamina, discipline. Looking “dolled up” had never really been a priority.
But tonight? Tonight you wanted to let loose. To be free and feel alive, after all this hard work of the last few months. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see his reaction. To impress him a little, or more to take his breath away.
The black bodycon dress hugged every curve, sculpting your figure in a way you weren’t used to. The patent leather heels (borrowed from your sister) added just enough height to change your posture completely. You stood more upright, tall and definetly more confident. After all, you had a fir and trained body, that was ready to be shown off. Your decided to curls your hair into loose waves, that fell around your shoulders. A little soft but intentional casual look.
Oh and the red lipstick: A bold and striking cherry color.
You barely recognized yourself, as you looked into the mirror.
“…Okay,” you exhaled,“Too late to back out now. I got this!”
___ _ _ _
When you spotted Taiga outside the club, hands shoved in his pockets, looking mildly annoyed at the line. He’d slipped out of his basketball shorts and paired black jeans with a black shirt. He looked almost elegant. The slightly unbuttoned shirt, showing of his necklace, gave him a certain sexy allure.
Seeing him this was, everything felt normal. That was until he looked up to you. And immediately seemed to choked on air,“…Huh—?!”
You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms,“What’s with that reaction?”
He stared. Actually stared, like he would burn a hole into your body...
From your heels… up your legs… to the way the dress fit your waist… your hair… your lips. His face turned bright red in record time.
“Y-you—what—” he started, completely fumbling,“Since when do you look like that?!”
You raised a brow, trying to stay confident,“Like what?”
“Like—like—” he gestured vaguely, clearly malfunctioning,“That!”
You laughed,“Wow. Real smooth, Kagami. You really know how to compliment a girl.”
“I’m being serious!” he snapped, then immediately looked away, rubbing the back of his neck,“You just—y-you don’t usually—”
“Dress like up? Like a stylish person?” you teased.
“I didn’t say that!” he shot back quickly, even more flustered,“You always look fine, it’s just—this is—”
He glanced at you again, then paused. “…You look really good,” he muttered. That sentence hit you straight into your lovestruck brain.
“Thanks,” you said softly. He cleared his throat, still avoiding direct eye contact,“Yeah. I mean it.”
A small smirk tugged at your lips,“You gonna survive the night?”
“Shut up brat,” he told you.
___ _ _ _
Inside the club however, everything changed. The 2000s music was loud and blasting from every speaker in the room, the colorful lights flashing, the energy completely different from anything you usually let yourself indulge in. And you, you fit right in. It was perfect, you felt free.
At first, Kagami stayed close to you, clearly out of his comfort zone—but the more you relaxed, the more you moved, the more that confident, effortless side of you came out. Your hips swayed naturally with the beat, your movements sharp but fluid—athletic, controlled, but still undeniably fun.
He noticed. Hell he noticed immediatly. Like, how could he not?
From the other side of the dance floor, Taiga watched you, being completely locked in.
“…She moves like that too?” he muttered under his breath. You caught his eye and motioned him over. He hesitated, but then came anyway. Big mistake on his side. Because up close? It was worse, well you were worse...you looked so radiant and sexy.
The music pulsed through the floor, and when you reached for his hand, pulling him into the rhythm, his brain was officially out of office.
“You’re so stiff Taiga. Have some fun!,” you laughed.
“I am not—!”
“You are.”
“I just don’t dance like this!”
“Then learn,”You moved closer, guiding him just slightly—and that’s when it hit him. The proximity. The way the dress moved with you. The way you looked completely different from the version of you he knew on the field. Thinking about this, his face flushed again, but this time...it didn’t fade, like it did when you guys waited in line.
As the night went on, something in him shifted. He went from red totmato and shy little baby Tiger to well...less flustered? He was more… intense? You couldnt quite put your finger on it.
His hands settled more confidently at your waist, when the crowd got tighter. His gaze didn’t dart away anymore—it lingered. The gaze was filled, heavy and steamy??
By the time you stepped off the dance floor to catch your breath and maybe grab a drink, he was right behind you. Well he was close, too close one might say, but you didnt mind.
“…You did this on purpose,” he muttered near your ear. You turned slightly,“Did what?”
He leaned in just enough for his voice to drop, rougher now,“Show up like that. Dance like that.”
Your pulse jumped,“Maybe I just wanted to have fun.”
He let out a quiet huff,“…Yeah. Well, it’s working.”
You tilted your head, scooting closer to try to understand was he was saying in the loud atmosphere,“What is?”
His eyes met yours—and there was nothing shy about them now,“…You’re driving me crazy.”
Your breath caught. He hesitated for a split second, like he was deciding how far to go. Then leaned in just a little closer, voice low and heated. “…Didn’t think I could want it even more,” he murmured, “to take you somewhere quieter.”
That sent a sharp wave of heat through you. You swallowed, heart racing,“…Ka...gami”
He straightened slightly, like he’d realized what he said—but he didn’t take it back and he didn’t look away. Just scratched the back of his neck again, a faint flush still there—but his gaze steady.
“…Let’s just—” he cleared his throat,“You know, get some air.”
You nodded, trying to steady yourself,“…Yeah. Good idea.”
But as you walked out together...His hand found yours. A firm and very confident grip. The grip of a man, who definitely was not letting go and had a plan to where this evening was headed.
Daiki Aomine
You were a bit nervous. In a good way – the kind where you get butterflies in your stomach. The sun was slowly setting on that lovely Saturday evening. Lost in thoughts, you double-checked your reflection in the hallway mirror one last time.
The girl staring back wasn’t you. At least, not the "day-to-day" version most people knew.
Most of your time was spend at your school. It wasnt super easy being the top of every class. You wanted to become an engineer and you studied hard to do so. So at school, you were the girl in oversized track pants, plain T-shirts, hair usually tied back, eyes always glued to notes or a book. Lee-Ah, your best friend would say you were invisible. But you wanted to be, it was comfortable and you also liked this more under the radar laid back look.
You glanced at the clock: blimey, only 10 minutes left. You had to get a move on now. One last look in the mirror. Today? Tonight? The girl with the big tees and the trackpants was gone.
You went all out: Baggy charcoal pants hung low on your hips, paired with a sharply fitted cropped top that hugged you just right. A bold belt hung loosely around your hips. A silver chain with the number 3 rested against your collarbone, rings catching the light as you adjusted your Yankees snapback—worn backwards, of course. You looked… different.
Totally confident, you felt sexy and like a total heartthrop. You wouldn’t want to admit it, but you went all out with that outfit more than usual. There was more going on than usual when you were out shopping with Lee-Ah or doing something similar. Because maybe you wanted to see how he would react.
___ _ _ _
Your white and grey Jordans with the light blue soles carried you to the underground as fast as your body would allow. You definitely didn’t want to be late. Or maybe you did? It was like a scene straight out of a film… you were so caught up in daydreaming that you almost missed your stop.
When you spotted Aomine Daiki leaning against the meeting spot, hands in his pockets, looking bored out of his mind, you almost laughed. Some things never changed.
“Oi,” you called.
He glanced up lazily—and then froze. Like actually froze, mid movement. You stopped a few steps away, crossing your arms,“You good?”
No answer. His eyes dragged over you slowly. From your cap… to your top… to the jewelry… and back up again. His usual half-lidded, uninterested stare? Gone.
“…What the hell Y/n,” he muttered. You raised a brow in question,“That bad?”
He scoffed, pushing off the wall, walking closer,“Bad? Nah.” His gaze sharpened, something dangerous and impressed flickering there,“Since when do you dress like this?”
You shrugged casually, even though your heart was doing something embarrassing in your chest,“Since always. I just don’t bother for school.”
“Hah.” He stopped right in front of you now, close enough that you could see the shift in his expression—interest, real interest,“So you’ve been hiding this the whole time?”
“Didn’t think it was a big deal to be honest,” you simply replied. He let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck,“Yeah… well, it does. Even more so now.”
You smirked slightly,“You’re the one who never asked me out. So now wonder you never saw this sinde of me. I had to ask you out.”
“Oi, don’t start,” he shot back automatically—but there was no bite to it. If anything, he looked… amused. And still very much distracted.
His eyes flicked to your rings as you adjusted your cap again,“…Damn.”
You blinked,“What?”
He shook his head, a crooked grin forming,“I need to ask you out more often.”
That caught you off guard,“Excuse me?”
He leaned in just a little, hands slipping back into his pockets like he was trying to act casual—but his gaze gave him away. “Cause if this is what I get?” he said, nodding toward you,“I’ve been seriously underestimating you.”
Heat crept up your neck, but you refused to let it show,“Took you long enough Idiot.”
He chuckled, low and lazy,“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky.”
But then—without warning—he reached out, lightly tugging at the chain around your neck, letting it fall back against your skin.
“…It suits you,” he added, quieter this time. That one hit harder than anything else. You looked away, clicking your tongue,“You gonna stand there staring all night, or are we actually going on this date?”
He smirked again, falling into step beside you.
“Relax,” he said,“I’m not wasting this.” As you walked off together, you could feel his gaze linger...completely, undeniably locked on you.
Ryouta Kise
You stared at your reflection, arms crossed,“…This is ridiculous.”
Normally, getting dressed meant pulling on soft shorts, an oversized hoodie, maybe fuzzy socks if you weren’t planning to leave your chair for hours. Comfort was your entire brand—long gaming sessions didn’t exactly call for fashion statements. As a professional gamer, comfort was key.
But tonight? Tonight you wanted to proof your long time friend and crush wrong. Whenever the two of you got onto the subject of fashion, Kise would laugh playfully and claim that you wouldn’t be able to dress well. At least not better than he dresses.
Tonight, you would proof Ryouta wrong. He had practically dragged you out to one of his model events. And somehow, you’d let yourself get talked into this. So this was your chance!
That also meant you had to play with the big guns: The navy blue suit fit like it had been tailored just for you and your georgeous body—sharp lines hugging your waist and hips, the blazer structured but still sleek. Underneath, instead of a blouse, you wore a delicate black lace bralette, barely visible unless someone looked closely… and the subtle glint of a golden body chain beneath it added just enough edge.
The look was elegant, yet it had a dangerous touch. It wasnt you, but that was exactly the point!
“…He better appreciate this,” you muttered.
___ _ _ _
Kise was already there, of course he was. What a swot! He was surrounded by people, a whole ocean of flashing lights and buzzing voices. Completely in his element. A natural celebrity.
You took a breath and stepped into the space. This took some confidence, as you werent used to such big crowds. At you e-sports tournaments, were less people.
It didn’t take long for him to notice you. And when he did, it was well...a very Ryouta reaction.
Mid-conversation, even mid-sentence he shifted all his attention to you. Completly ignoring his conversation partner,“…Eh?”
The person he was talking to blinked,“ Uhm....Kise-kun?”
He wasn’t listening anymore. His golden eyes were locked on you as you walked closer, heels clicking softly against the floor.
“Hey,” you said casually. Silence. Then he went crazy,“WOAH—!!”
Heads turned. You winced,“Too loud—”
“Y/n-CHI?!” he practically yelped, rushing over to you,“IS THAT YOU?!”
You raised a brow,“No, I just broke into this event dressed like this for fun.”
He circled you—actually circled you—eyes wide, sparkling like he’d just discovered something incredible. “WAIT—WAIT—since when do you dress like this?!” he asked, hands flying animatedly,“This is AMAZING! The suit—oh my god, it fits you PERFECTLY—!”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sheer intensity,“I mean, yeah, I—sometimes—”
“And the color? Navy blue?? That’s, like, illegally good on you!” he continued, completely unstoppable,“And—wait—are you wearing—hold on—”
He leaned in slightly, eyes catching the subtle detail beneath your blazer. “…Is that a body chain?” he whispered, like he’d just uncovered a secret.
You smirked a little,“Maybe.”
He clutched his chest dramatically,“Y/n-chi… I think I’m gonna pass out.”
You laughed,“ God Ryouta, you’re so dramatic.”
“I’m serious!” he shot back, then immediately beamed,“You look insane! Like—elegant but also super hot? I didn’t even know you had this side! I have to admit you surely know how to dress well....”
Your cheeks warmed slightly,“I just don’t dress like this at home.”
“Tragic,” he said instantly,“Absolutely tragic. I’ve been robbed.”
Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand,“C’mon, c’mon—everyone needs to see this!”
“Wait—what?! Kise—!”
Too late. He was already pulling you along, proudly introducing you to anyone who would listen: “This is Y/n-chi!” // “Look at her outfit, isn’t it amazing?!” // “Right?! I know!!”
You groaned, half embarrassed—but also… weirdly pleased.He wasn’t just showing you off. He was proud. Which meant you had won.
___ _ _ _
Later that evening, you finally escaped to the terrace, the noise of the event fading into a soft hum behind you. You needed to catch a breath.
You leaned against the railing, exhaling,“Well, that was surely a lot.”
“Worth it,” Kise said immediately, stepping beside you. You glanced at him,“You’re still going?”
“Always,” he grinned. But then his expression shifted into something softer. His eyes traced over you again, slower this time. Appreciative, but less chaotic… more focused. “…Seriously, though,” he said, voice dropping just a bit,“You look incredible.”
You held his gaze,“You’ve said that like ten times.”
“I’ll say it eleven times more if I need to,” he shot back easily. You laughed quietly. A small pause settled between you. The night air was cooler out here, calmer—and the way he looked at you now felt different from inside. It made the air more electric between you.
He leaned in slightly, just enough that his voice brushed your ear: “…Damn,” he murmured,“I didn’t think I’d want to leave this event so soon…”
Your breath hitched slightly.
“…but this outfit?” he continued softly, a teasing edge slipping in,“would look even better off.”
Your face heated instantly,“Kise—!” This man was so shameless at times...but you also felt seen. Your friend and longterm crush had just confessed his feelings for you. He pulled back with a bright grin, completely unashamed,“I’m just saying~”
You shook your head, trying to hide your smile,“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re gorgeous,” he shot back instantly.
…Yeah. You definitely weren’t going back inside anytime soon.
Midorima Shintarou
You adjusted the slit of your dress and immediately regretted having legs,“…Why did I ever agree to this?”
Normally, your wardrobe consisted of soft fuzzy lounge pants, oversized sweaters (sometimes the ones Shin forgot at your house), and really whatever was closest to your bed. Being homeschooled had its perks—comfort was one of them. On the other hand, you’re also glad that the study sessions with Shin gave you a bit of a change of pace.
You used to hang out together back when you were still at his school. But since the English stream was discontinued, you’ve had to study on your own. You’d met him, and through him, his friends too. You’d been happy to have a connection in the real world. Until you fell in love with Shin.
Tonight was a theme party. Hosted by Taiga and Tetsuya. Invited were all of the the Generation of Miracles, as well as other team mates and friends. It was going to be huge.
And more importantly....You had decided to be creative.
The red satin dress shimmered under the light, hugging your body just enough to be elegant… and just risky enough to be dangerous and very sexy, yet tasteful. The high slit showed off your toned leg with every step. And your hair was neatly pinned into a bun. You felt like it made everything feel more refined.
Paired with subtle but very intentional accessories and some red heels...it was stunning. You looked like walking temptation.
Or, more accurately a red lotus. And you knew exactly whose lucky item that was today. You smiled to yourself,“…Let’s see how he handles this.”
This was your way of finding out, wether hed also harboured feelings for you.
___ _ _ _
When you arrived at Taigas apartment, it was already buzzing with energy: loud laughter, good music selected by Himuro and lots of chaos. And in between of it all, there he was.
Shintarō...He stood off to the side, posture perfect as always, glasses reflecting the light, holding what looked like a cup of liquid? (This was probably Takaos doing). He wore a rather sleek and trendy outfit, of course a red lotus charm hangs from his belt loop. Of course.
You walked toward him slowly,“…Shin.”
He turned, then paused. He adjusted his glasses, to hide what he was thinking. He opened his mouth, then paused again. Then there was a sound,“…What.”
You tilted your head innocently,“What?”
Silence. His gaze dropped—immediately catching the slit of your dress. Then suddenly snapped back up like he’d been burned.
“…What are you wearing,” he said flatly.
“A costume,” you replied sweetly, doing a small turn,“Do you like it?”
“…No,” he replied straight forward. You blinked,“Wow.”
“It’s highly inappropriate,” he continued, voice tightening,“The slit of that thing is unnecessary. The fabric is—” he cut himself off, clearly refusing to elaborate further,“You should cover yourself.”
You crossed your arms, amused,“You’re staring a lot for someone who doesn’t like it.”
“I am not staring,” he tried to defend himself. “You are,” you teased him. Clearly liking, where this was going.
“I am observing,” he stated. You stepped closer,“…Observing what exactly?”
He stiffened immediately. “…You are dressed as a red lotus,” he said, like that explained everything.
“Yes,” you said, leaning in slightly,“Your lucky item.”
He went still....like completely still,“…That is irrelevant.”
“Is it?” you hummed,“I thought lucky items were important to you.”
“They are,” he admitted.
“Then shouldn’t you… appreciate me a little more?”
A dangerous pause. His grip on his charm tightened,“…You are being troublesome.”
You smiled, slow and teasing,“Or maybe I’m being lucky.”
That did it. He looked at you again—really looked this time—and his composure cracked just a fraction,“…You should not say things like that in public.”
“Why?” you asked, completely shameless,“I’m just stating facts. I’m your lucky item tonight.”
His ears turned red,“…You are not an object.”
“Then treat me like something better.”
Silence. Suddenly, he took a step closer. A step that took him way too close. “…You are playing with probability in a very reckless way,” he muttered, voice lower now.
You raised a brow,“Oh?”
“…And I do not appreciate variables I cannot control.”
“Sounds like a you problem,” you said with the biggest grin.
That was the exact moment he snapped. He decisively. grabbed your wrist—firm, controlled—and turned,“We are leaving.”
You blinked, startled but not resisting,“Wait—what?! Shin—what about the party? I just arrived...”
“It has become statistically irrelevant.”
“You also just arrived here!,” you tried to get him to stay, as he dragged you out of the apartment.
“I have seen what I needed to see,” he said, voice lower.
“And what’s that?,”you asked. Now you were ready for war, you loved teasing him to the maximum. He stopped just briefly, glancing back at you—eyes sharp behind his glasses, expression far too intense for someone who usually lectured about horoscopes.
“…That my focus has been compromised.”
Your heart skipped,“…By me?”
“…Obviously.”
You grinned,“So I am your lucky item.”
He clicked his tongue,“Do not push your luck.”
But his grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened slightly as he led you out. And as the noise of the party faded behind you, his voice dropped just enough to make your pulse spike. “…You will be held responsible for the consequences of this,” he muttered.
You laughed softly, stepping closer to him.
“Good,” you said,“I was hoping for that. Hoping I would get lucky tonight Shin.”
He adjusted his glasses again, this time, he didn’t even try to hide the faint flush on his face.
Akashi Seijuro
The ocean breeze felt different from anything you were used to.
The air was lighter, the ground beneath your feet was warmer. You felt free. You stood barefoot in the sand, staring at the reflection in your hotel window, barely recognizing the woman looking back at you.
At work/school, your world was sharp lines and structure—tailored blazers, pressed skirts, neutral tones. Everything about you was polished, controlled, intentional. Just as one would expect from the heiress of a multi-million-pound business.
But here? Everything softened. After the exams, Akashi asked you if you’d like to go on a short holiday to one of the seaside hotels run by the Akashi family. It came at exactly the right time. Between all the studying and working in the family business, there was little time for self-care. Akashi knew you just too well.
Your gaze fell once more on the woman in the window refelction. That woman wore a silky, sheer beach cover up, that flowed around your body. It was catching the wind with every small movement. Beneath it, your silhouette was impossible to ignore—curves outlined just enough to tease, not reveal. Showing hints of your swimwear. Golden body chains traced along your skin, glinting in the sunlight like delicate armor of a godess.
Your hair, usually neat and precise, now fell in loose, voluminous waves, a single flower tucked behind your ear.
You looked… stunning and dangerous, yet soft and elegant. It felt incredible. Like something out of a myth.
“…An ocean goddess,” you murmured under your breath. A small smile tugged at your lips,“Let’s see what he thinks.”
___ _ _ _
When you stepped onto the beach, Akashi was already there. He was never not prepared. Standing tall, composed as ever, the ocean stretching endlessly behind him. Even here, in a place meant for relaxation, he carried that same quiet authority—like the world naturally aligned itself around him.
You walked toward him slowly. When he heard the rustle of the sand, he turned. Not obvious to anyone else, but you, he had a little glitch in his mimic. It was unmistakable, he was taken aback. His sharp gaze swept over you, taking in every detail—the flowing fabric, the gold against your skin, the way you carried yourself so differently from your usual composed, businesslike presence.
Slowly a faint, knowing smile appeared and he approached you. Stopping just close enough.
“…Well, well,” he said, voice smooth as ever,“If this isn’t my goddess.”
Your breath caught—just slightly. You tilted your head,“Your goddess?”
“Mm.” His eyes lingered, not hurried, not careless—deliberate,“I had expected elegance.”
A pause,“…But this exceeds expectation.”
You smiled, stepping just a little closer,“Are you saying you’re surprised?”
“I am saying,” he replied calmly,"that I underestimated the extent of your… versatility.”
His gaze dropped briefly to the gold chains at your waist before returning to your eyes,"And I do not make that mistake often.”
You let out a soft laugh,“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” The breeze shifted, the fabric of your cover brushing lightly against his arm. He didn’t move away. He stepped closer.
“…You look like you belong to the sea,” he added quietly,“An untouchable, dangerous and yet tempting treasure.”
Your heart skipped,“Dangerous?”
“To anyone who underestimates you,”His voice softened—not weaker, but more intimate.
“And perhaps… to me as well.”
That was new. You searched his face, curious,“Since when are you at risk?”
He smiled faintly,“Since you decided to appear before me like this.”
Heat crept into your chest, but you didn’t back down.
“Then what will you do about it?”
A pause. He reached out, fingers brushing lightly against the strand of hair near your face, adjusting the flower just slightly.
“Adapt,” he said simply. Your breath hitched. The moment lingered—charged, quiet, the sound of waves filling the space between words.
But something had shifted. His gaze seemed to darken, not losing its composure, but gaining weight. Intent.
“…This environment is becoming less suitable,” he murmured.
You raised a brow,“The beach?”
“The distractions.”
You smirked,“Am I the distraction?”
“…You are the only one that matters.” That sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could respond, he moved. One arm slipped behind your back, the other beneath your knees—and in one smooth motion, he lifted you effortlessly.
You gasped softly,“Sei what—!”
“Relax,” he said, already turning toward the hotel,“I have no intention of dropping you my little treasure.”
“You could have just asked me to walk!”
“I could have.” A small pause,“…But I prefer this.”
You stared at him, heart racing, the ocean breeze now replaced by the steady rhythm of his steps.
“…You’re being bold.”
“I am being efficient.”
You laughed under your breath,“That’s not what this is.”
His eyes flicked down to you, calm—but unmistakably intent. “No,” he admitted quietly,“…It is not.”
Silence settled between you again—but it wasn’t empty. It was full. Heavy with everything he hadn’t said. As the hotel doors came into view, his hold on you remained steady, unwavering. Like he had already decided, there was nowhere else you were going tonight.
Atsushi Murasakibara
Usually, getting dressed meant grabbing whatever was clean—track pants, a loose T-shirt, maybe a hoodie if it was cold. Functional. Comfortable. Easy to ignore. Your training schedule meant you rarely had to dress up in your day-to-day life. Mornings were packed with school and afternoons with your volleyball training. After all, it wasn’t every day that you were selected for the national youth team.
But today... today was supposed to be special. Your crush had finally asked you out on a date, and you wanted to impress him.
You spent the whole of yesterday evening rummaging through your wardrobe trying to find something to wear. And today, too, there was a lot to think about: the weather, the venue, what you’d be doing… and after a quick call to your best friend Minnie, your outfit was sorted.
You almost didn’t recognize yourself: black ripped skinny jeans hugged you just right, the fabric torn in all the right places, shaping your legs—and yeah, your ass looked really good. The lace top added a soft, delicate contrast, hugging your torso while still feeling like you. The sheer fabric showing a little skin. Silver jewelry layered across your neck and wrists caught the light subtly, and the black arm gloves gave everything a gothic edge.
The kitten heels were the final touch—small, but enough to change how you carried yourself. The skinny jeans flared just enough at the bottom to stage up the heels.
You stared at your reflection for a second longer. “…Okay,” you muttered,“This is fine. I look fine...actually I look hot.”
___ _ _ _
Your crush, favourite little sweetie and snack lover Atsushi nicknamed Mura, was already waiting when you arrived—leaning against the wall of the bar you wanted to go to, lazily snacking on something, as usual.
Some things were predictable. He was predictable.
You took a breath and walked up,“…Hey Mura.”
He glanced over, half-lidded and uninterested like usual—and then paused mid-chew on his pocky stick.
The snack in his hand lowered slowly,“…Eh?”
You shifted your weight slightly,“What?” Shit, he didnt like the outfit? was it too much? Your thoughts ran wild.
He didn’t answer. His eyes moved—slow, heavy, taking you in piece by piece. From your heels… up your legs… lingering just a second too long at your hips… then to your waist, your top, your jewelry…
All the way back to your face.
“…That’s you?” he asked flatly.
You blinked,“Yes?? Who else would it be? Did you ask another girl out on a date????”
He frowned slightly, like he was trying to process something complicated—which, for him, probably meant he was,“…You look different.”
“Good different or weird different?,” you asked, getting nervous. He hummed, still staring. Then he took another slow bite of his snack, chewing thoughtfully,“…Both.”
You groaned,“Mura—”
He cut you off, stepping closer. And closer to you. You stiffened slightly as his shadow fell over you. Sometimes you forgot how towering tall he was. God, going on this date already had the worst start...
His gaze dropped again, more deliberate this time, less confused… more aware. “…Your butt looks nice,” he said bluntly.
You choked,“EXCUSE ME?!”
He tilted his head,“What? It does.”
Your face burned instantly,“Mura, you can’t just say that!”
“Why not?” he replied lazily,“It’s true.”
You covered your face for a second, trying to recover,“Oh my god…”
He leaned down a bit, eyes still fixed on you—but now there was something softer underneath his laziness. “…I didn’t think something sweet could get sweeter,” he added slowly.
You peeked through your fingers,“…What?” God, why was he saying shit like that?? You never had seen him flirt, so get to know this side of him, knowing he was this agressive....was shocking to be honest.
His expression didn’t change much, it never did really—but his voice dropped just enough to make your heart trip,“…and also be this sexy.”
That hit. Hard. Like really hard. Your heart sank deeper, this man was going to be the death of you. You froze completely, your brain short-circuiting for a second,“Y-you—what—since when do you say stuff like that?!”
He shrugged, completely unbothered,“Since now, I guess.”
Your heart was racing, and you hated how easily he’d done that to you.
“…You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.
“Mhm.”
There was a small pause. Then, unexpectedly, he reached down and lightly tugged at the lace sleeve near your wrist, inspecting the fabric between his fingers.
“…This is nice,” he said,“Soft. Like a mochi.”
“…It’s lace,” it just slipped out. Your mind was no longer able to think clearly.
“Mm.” His grip lingered just a second too long before he let go. Then he straightened, popping the last bit of his snack into his mouth,“…Let’s go.”
You blinked,“That’s it??”
He glanced down at you again, eyes still carrying that same quiet intensity,“…If we stay here, I’ll just keep staring.”
You flushed again,“THEN DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT!”
He turned, already starting to walk, completely ignoring your embarrassment.
“…Hurry up,” he mumbled.
You followed—trying (and failing) to calm your heartbeat.
And the whole time, you could feel it, his gaze drifting back to you every few steps.
His gaze being hungry in a way that somehow still felt… soft. Just like him. But he clearly wasnt hungry for snacks or food...
authors note: Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3
pairing: Chifuyu Matsuno x fem!reader
summary: Knightess and her blonde prince, who needs to be safed find out, that her prince actually likes her as much as she likes him.
genre: romance
word count: 3.2k
The red rucksack hung loosely from your right shoulder. You had finally finished work. Life at a sports school was not easy. Your legs still ached from all the training, but the walk home and the peace and quiet simply made your legs keep going.
A year ago, you moved from your prefecture to Tokyo. All for the love of your sport.
This move also brought new things into your life. Including the Tokyo Manji Gang. If someone had told you a year ago that you would be involved with members of a gang, you would have laughed. It sounded crazy. It all started when you helped out at the little tailor's shop around the corner from your dorm. That's where you met Mitsuya. A talented designer, you thought. And your ticket to everyday life in the gang.
It was late evening in Tokyo, and the streets near the river were dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the pavement. You had just finished your usual training—sprinting and drills that left your muscles pleasantly sore—and were heading home when a noise made you freeze.
A muffled groan.
You turned a corner and your eyes fell on a sight that made your heart skip: Chifuyu, slumped against a wall, bloodied, his shirt torn, his usual calm expression replaced by pain.
“Chifuyu!” you gasped in shock, rushing to him. He tried to shake his head, attempting a weak smile,“Oh hi Y/n...I… I’m fine…”
“No, you’re not!” Your voice was sharp, almost fierce. Your instincts kicked in—the adrenaline, the power in your long legs and strong arms, ready to protect. Your eyes darted to the group of thugs disappearing into the night. They had underestimated him… and now, they were about to regret it.
“Stay behind me Chifuyu,” you growled, and without waiting for a response, you sprinted after them. Each stride was pure power, honed from years of training. Within moments, you had caught up, and with a combination of precision and strength, you tackled the first one to the ground. Your movements were fluid and forceful, a dance of controlled fury.
By the time the rest realized what was happening, you had them cornered, your towering presence making them hesitate. A few strong pushes and a couple of swift hits later, they were groaning and scrambling, no match for your righteous strength.
When the last one ran, you turned back, chest heaving, to find Chifuyu looking at you with wide, astonished eyes.
“Y/n...You… you came for me,” he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and warmth.
You offered him your hand, helping him to his feet,“Of course. Who else would? Besides what are you doing out here???”
His usual composure cracked as he looked at you, eyes serious but soft. “Y/n...I… I’ve liked you for a long time. I just… never knew how to tell you. But seeing you like this… being my… my knight in shining armor…” His words faltered, but the meaning was clear.
You felt your cheeks heat up as you reached out, brushing the stray hair from his face. “Well,” you said softly, smiling, “I guess knights don’t always wear armor. Sometimes… they just run at trouble head-on.”
___ _ _ _
You had helped Mitsuya with a large order of jackets. Black jackets with white embroidery: Tokyo Manji. At the time, you wondered what that was. Maybe a sports club or something?
But when Mitsuya asked you to help him with the delivery, you couldn't believe your eyes. Were those gang jackets?
It had been a warm summer day, and several young men were standing at the Sano family shrine. You handed out the jackets to them. You knew how uncomfortable you felt about the whole situation. Until your eyes fell on him: blond, tousled hair, green-blue eyes and a smile that enchanted you.
His smile had made the situation bearable.
From then on, you and Chifuyu had grown together into an inseparable unit. His cheerful, warm manner had captivated you. Soon it was more than just friendship.
___ _ _ _
He laughed quietly, the sound rusty but genuine,“Then I guess I’m the luckiest guy alive.”
You stayed there a moment longer, letting him lean on you as you walked him back, the city lights reflecting in both of your eyes—one bruised, one bright with determination—but both connected by something stronger than any fight could break.
The streets were quiet now, the thugs long gone, leaving only the soft hum of the city around you. Chifuyu leaned slightly on your shoulder, still bruised and exhausted, but safe. You had carried him partway back, and every step he took, you felt his gratitude—and something deeper—in the way he looked at you.
“You really… saved me,” he murmured, his voice low, almost shy.
“I couldn’t just leave you there,” you replied softly, brushing a smear of dirt from his cheek. Your fingers lingered for a moment, and he didn’t pull away.
He looked down at your hand, then back into your eyes, his own shining with a mixture of relief, admiration, and something that made your heart thrum. “I’ve always… liked you,” he admitted again, quieter this time, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “But I never imagined… someone like you would actually… care about me.”
You smiled, gentle and sweet, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I care about you, Chifuyu. I always have.”
His breath hitched slightly. The world seemed to shrink around the two of you—the distant city lights blurring into a soft haze. Slowly, hesitantly, he tilted his head toward yours. You met him halfway.
Time slowed. His hand lifted, brushing lightly against your cheek, warm and tentative. You leaned into him instinctively. Then, finally, your lips met in a soft, trembling kiss—gentle at first, full of unspoken relief and affection, a promise that neither of you needed words to express.
When you pulled back slightly, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing a little heavier. He chuckled softly, embarrassed but happy.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered. “My… knight in shining armor.”
You laughed softly, nuzzling against him. “And you’re mine, Chifuyu.”
The night stretched on around you, but in that quiet moment, with the city lights painting your faces, it felt like the world had stopped—just long enough for the two of you to realize that you were exactly where you belonged.
