Narumi was never the type to memorize details about his subordinates. To him, they were all just faces in a uniformâinterchangeable, replaceable. He didnât bother learning names unless they pissed him off or stood out in battle.
When someone asked about (your surname)âabout (y/n)âthe questions were vague enough that Narumi didnât even pause before answering. Blue eyes?
Sure, whatever. She probably had blue eyes.
Scars? Marks?
Heâd shrug and say nothing notable stood out.
Honestly?
He hadn't looked at you like that.
You weren't loud or flashy like Kikoru.
You weren't strong enough to demand attention during training.
You didnât speak up unless spoken to â quiet, obedient⊠easy to ignore.
And so he did â for months on end â completely overlooked your existence beyond "another rookie."
The truth?
If someone showed him a photo of (y/n) right then?
Narumi wouldn't recognize you as the same person standing beside Hasegawa during morning roll call every damn day.
.
.
.
One day, you pulled out your Steam Deck during lunch break and ended up wasting the entire break playing instead of eating.
For Narumi? It was an epiphany.
A gamer.
Right here.
In front of him.
In his division.
His eyes narrowed slightlyânot in annoyance this timeâbut intrigue. Calculating interest sparked behind those usually lazy eyes.
"Huh."
He didn't rush over dramatically or announce anything to Hasegawa passing by...
But internally?
Bingo.
.
.
.
The first time he summoned you, Narumi was pretending to read a mission reportâpaperwork face on, stoic and official. When you knocked and stepped in, he didnât look up right away.
Just scanned the room.
Your boots clicking softly on the floor.
Your hands at your sides.
That plain expressionâno smirk, no tension.
Nothing.
He finally lifted his eyes⊠then immediately looked back down at the papers like they were suddenly fascinating.
"Ah..."
No greeting.
"...You play online games?"
Second time? Same drill.
Different excuse:
"Need your opinion on this tactical review."
But the moment you arrived and he heard your quiet, respectful greeting?
He already had his hand extended with the second controller.
You were staring at him like an idiot.
The controller was black, slightly worn from constant use, buttons polished by his thumbs. He was sitting on the floor in front of his TV screen. The title menu of some fast-paced fighting game flashing with bright colors and aggressive music.
Your eyes darted from that stupidly focused faceâthe one he only wore when gamingâto the controller in his hand⊠then back to him again.
Did he just�
Was this an order?
A test?
OrâŠ
...was Captain Narumi actually inviting you to play?
"What can I help with?" you asked, confused.
Narumi's eyebrow twitchedâannoyed.
"Are you stupid?"
The game's soundtrack blared: explosive sound effects and electronic beeps filling the silence of his messy office.
"Sit. Down."
He patted the spot right beside him on the floor.
The First Divisionâs strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant looked⊠weirdly intense for someone about to play a video game.
Your lips parted as if you were about to snap back at his rude comment, but you quickly closed them again, remembering the difference in rank.
What the hell is his problem?
Still, you quietly sat down beside him and took the controller.
Trying not to judge the fact that it was worn out.
He didnât acknowledge your irritation.
Narumi was too busyâalready selecting his character, fingers moving fast over the buttons with practiced ease.
The screen loaded: a flashy anime-style fighter on one side, and (y/n)âs default (the weakest) on the other.
Tch.
You really had no idea what this was about⊠did you?
The match started.
No explanation of controls.
Just fight.
His face twisted the first time you button-mashed your way into a disastrous combo.
Second match?
Worse.
You were mashing square when it was clearly triangle.
By the third loss, he wasnât even focused on winning.
He was watching you â how your fingers fumbled, how you bit your lip in concentration, how you muttered about Xbox controls.
Narumi actually turned his head toward you, eyes wide for half a second before narrowing in pure disbelief.
"Youâve never played on PlayStation?!"
"...It's uncomfortable. Everything is too close togetherâ"
His jaw actually dropped.
For a solid two seconds, he just stared at youâlike youâd committed a war crime right in front of him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
A crisis. Your opinion on console layouts was objectively wrong.
"Xbox?"
He scoffed, voice dripping with disdain.
"That clunky-ass plastic brick? The buttons are too far apart! You gotta stretch your thumb like an idiot!"
Narumi grabbed his own controller and demonstratedâa swift combo that looked effortless.
"This? This is clean."
A perfect triangle-circle-X input without moving his hand more than half an inch.
He looked at your face then. It said more than a thousand words: a completely deadpan stare.
"...If you donât figure this out in 30 minutes, youâll be doing so many laps in training tomorrow your legs are going to fall off."
After a brief pause.
"Watch how I do it, because I hate rookies."
And for half an hour?
Thatâs exactly what you got to watch:
Narumi Genâthe strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant in Japan, the guy who once soloed two kaijuu barehanded, sitting cross-legged on his office floor, teaching you how to play his favorite game.
.
.
.
Two months in.
Narumi still summoned you to his office for emergency gaming sessions â usually late at night when the base was quiet.
Sometimes you would complain in a bored voice about the games he picked.
At first, Narumi would scoff âlike it was the only thing worth playing.
"Tch. This is peak gaming, (y/n)."
"You're weak."
His classic arrogance.
He was naturally spiteful, and it manifested in all sorts of ways. One of them was showing up to your sparring sessions completely uninvited, just to throw nasty comments.
He stood at the edge of the training yard, arms crossed, watching you get tossed around by Shinonomeâone of First Divisionâs top fighters.
Shinonome wasnât brutal. Just efficient. Precise movements, clean countersâwithin seconds, you were on your back after a well-placed sweep.
A humiliated loss.
Narumi smirked.
His eyes? They laughed.
He walked up casually as Shinonome offered you a hand to help you up.
"Jesus," he said loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear. "youâre weak."
Despite his comment, he stayed at the training yard, waiting for the crowd to thin out and for most people to leaveâor at least move far enough away from them.
He didnât rush. Just strolled over like it was nothing, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.
You sat on a bench by yourselfâsweaty forehead, slightly pouty expression as you twisted open water bottle. Still recovering from humiliation.
Narumi stopped right in front of you. He didnât say anything at firstâjust looked down at you.
After a long second, he finally spoke:
"Youâre coming to me. Every day."
No "how do you feel?"
"18:00 sharp," he continued. "in Training Hall B."
An honor for the ambitious ones, the kind of people who practically begged to train with him. Hell for the average ones who just wanted to collect a paycheck.
The words hung in the airâsimple, direct, and utterly devastating in their implication.
18:00. Every day.
No "if you want to."
Just a command.
And everyone who heard itâeveryoneâknew what that meant.
Narumi Gen never trained anyone personally unless they were elite.
Top recruits?
Yes.
Rising stars?
Maybe.
But random rookies like you?
Those who struggled in sparring?
They didnât get this privilege.
They got drills with Hasegawa or senior officers⊠not the Captain himself.
"My knee hurtsâ" The words came out strained, your excuse already prepared.
Gen stared at youâlike he could see right through the lie, straight into the cowardly little heartbeat hiding behind that excuse.
"Your knee hurts?"
He reached down and grabbed your leg above the knee, squeezing slightlyânot hard enough to hurt for real, but firm enough to test.
For a moment, you didnât even move, staring at his hand in confusion.
"Ow, that hurts!" you let out a gasp after a long second of silence, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away.
Narumi didnât react to you yanking his hand awayâno anger, no jerking back like youâd burned him. He slowly straightened up, looking down at you with the cold expression. Not yelling. Not mocking.
Just⊠disgust. Disgust for a lie. For faking an injury.
"You're lying."
"I aren'tâ" you started, but he cut you off.
"Thatâs exactly why youâre showing up at 18:00. Today." he said it like a punishmentâlike sentencing you to hell for lying about a stupid knee pain.
He leaned down slightly, face closer now, eyes boring into yours with that terrifying intensity only Narumi could pull off when pissed.
"You think I donât know what âowâ sounds fake?
"You weren't even limping on your way here!"
.
.
.
Summer turned every building into an oven and made the air feel thick enough to chew.
Even with the training hall's ventilation running, the heat lingered stubbornly inside. The large room felt stuffy, carrying the scent of rubber mats, sweat, and long hours of training. Sunlight poured through the high windows, painting bright rectangles across the floor and making the temperature feel even worse.
You'd already lost track of how many times you'd wiped the sweat from your face. Your uniform clung to your skin uncomfortably, damp from training. Every movement felt heavier than it should have, and even sitting still on the bench wasn't enough to cool down.
Meanwhile, Narumi looked annoyingly unaffected.
It was unfair.
"Narumiii, can't we go for ice cream?"
He glanced at you. You looked miserable. A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Tch," he scoffed. "You just got your ass handed to you in sparring and now you wanna go eat sugar? Pathetic."
"Back then when I was in Third Divisionâ"
"Ugh, not this again."
"Haaa? I havenât even said anything yet!" you complained, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.
Narumi turned his head slowly, one eyebrow raised in silent judgment. "âŠYou were about to say something stupid," he said flatly.
"I can see it in your dumb face."
For a moment, silence stretched between you two before you spoke again.
"Câmonâ"
Before you could even finish...
"No." Narumi stood abruptly, towering over you. His expression was stern, unmoving, like a statue of pure rejection.
He pointed at the training mat.
"Youâre doing twenty more push-ups."
Your eyes followed his gesture before drifting back to his face. Your hands were still pressed against your cheeks, your posture slightly hunched as you sat on the bench.
"For real?" you asked, making eye contact, as if waiting for a punchline.
He kicked the bench beside you, making it rattle loudly enough to echo through the empty training hall.
"For real."
The bench shook beneath you, shifting your position slightly, but you ignored it. You were already used to his sudden outbursts.
"You always talk trash about Hasegawa, but youâre slowly starting to turn into him." You lifted your head, lowering your hands so you could get a better look at him.
"Do you have a receding hairline�"
For a split secondâabsolute silence. Even the air seemed to stop moving.
Then his eye twitched.
"What."
"Orâ"
The side of Narumi's hand lightly knocked against the top of your head.
"Owâ!"
You clutched your head, more out of reflex than pain. It hadnât even hurtâNarumi had barely tapped you.
For half a second, he just stared at your hair. Messy. Sweaty. Sticking to your forehead.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he pulled his hand back.
"âŠGet on the mat." he muttered, his voice slightly lower than before.
"Grump," you muttered under your breath.
"Itâs always training, training, and more training with youâ"
"Yeah, and?" he shot back. "This is what keeps you alive when a Kaiju rips your squad apart," he said flatly. "Or do you want to die because I let you eat ice cream instead of training?"
"Do you always have to be so negative? Everyone only gets one life. We should use our free time and actually enjoy it."
"First Division is the elite. We can't afford to slack off."
"Elite," you repeated, dragging out the word.
"First doesn't automatically mean the best." you finally pushed yourself up from the benchâstill sweaty, still tired.
"Fine." he suddenly said, catching you off guard.
"Huh?"
"Make me hit the ground, and I'll buy you an ice cream," he said, brushing his bangs back from his forehead.
"But if you can't do it, you're buying one for both of us."
Your eyes widened.
A challenge?
Narumi never played fair. This was obviously a trapâbut today, you were feeling a little too greedy to care.
.
.
Before you could even think of a strategy, he hooked your leg without hesitation. Your hand shot out instinctively, and without thinking, you grabbed onto his uniform.
Narumi lost his balance and stumbled forward with you.
Instinctively, he planted his hands on either side of your head to keep from crashing face-first into the mat.
Without thinking, your legs loosely wrapped around his hips.
Maybe that was a little desperate.
But for a split second, a thought crossed your mind.
If the two of you fell togetherâŠ
Then technically, that would make it a draw, right?
His breath hitched.
You were so close.
Your faces were barely two inches apart. His magenta eyes widened slightly, locked onto yours. The summer heat was nothing compared to the sudden, stupidly intense tension hanging in the air.
The training hall had fallen completely silent. The only sound was the faint hum of the overhead lights.
"Timeout!" you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut for a second.
Getting into this position had taken way too much effort.
Most of the time, Narumi was the one on the offensive, never giving you a chance to counterattack. You usually ended up dodging instead. It was a pain in the ass considering how relentlessly he fought, seamlessly chaining attacks with both his arms and legs. The moment your attention slipped, you'd either catch a hit from his hand or a strike from his leg.
It forced you to stay in constant motion, splitting your focus between his upper and lower body.
He always managed to take you down eventually, so you considered the current situation a drawâand honestly, you felt a little proud of yourself.
It didn't matter how ridiculous the situation looked right now.
He didn't move.
Still braced above you.
Your legs were still loosely hooked around his hips.
Oh God.
Why was this happening?
His face was unreadable. Calm. Too calm.
"âŠYouâre weird," he said suddenly, his voice low and oddly soft for someone who usually shouted everything.
Then⊠he smirked.
Your eyes opened after a moment, and only then did you realize just how awkwardly close the two of you were.
Earlier, you'd been so focused on not losing that you'd gotten a little carried away.
"âŠDid I win?" you asked awkwardly, glancing up at him as your eyes met his magenta ones.
His smirk didn't fade.
If anything, it widenedâlike he was enjoying this far more than he should.
"âŠNo," he said. "You didn't."
His voice lacked its usual sharpness. It was quieter. Almost teasing in a way that made your stomach flip.
Before you could question him, he slowly shifted his weight forward, causing your back to sink closer and closer to the mat.
Your eyes widened.
"Waitâ"
The back of your head touched the mat with a soft thud.
The cool surface did absolutely nothing to ease the warmth spreading across your face.
And thenâ
"BING BONG~!"
Narumi suddenly bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the empty training hall.
"And today's winnerâby a complete landslideâis CAPTAIN NARUMI GEN!"
The moment was dead.
Absolutely murdered.
.
.
.
Since that day, you slowly started feeling strange around him.
The memory of his teasing tone, the way it had made your stomach flip, and how unbearably warm your face had felt that day kept creeping back into your mind.
Every time he called your name in the hallway, you'd stiffen.
When he walked by during training, you'd avoid eye contactâtoo intense.
Sometimes, he was just unfairly handsome.
One moment his face was perfectly bearable, and the next he'd appear out of nowhere during a Kaiju attack. Somehow, with pink energy flashing around him as he fought, he looked ridiculously good.
The sweat on his brow. The intense focus in his eyes, like nothing else in the world existed except the fight in front of him...
"Hey."
Narumi's voice came from behind you.
You hadn't heard him approachâagain.
You spun around too quickly.
And there he was. Leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, wearing that same irritating smirk.
The kind that made it seem like he knew exactly what was going through your head.
"Your face is red." he said flatly. His gaze lingered, studying you far longer than necessary.
"Because it's hot," you muttered. Your eyes dropped to him for a split second before you caught yourself.
Damn it.
You forced yourself to meet his eyes.
"What now?" you asked. "You want to play another game?"
He blinked. Then his smirk widened.
"Yeah," he said, pushing himself off the doorframe. "I'm bored."
He stepped closer.
Too close.
You immediately noticed... and judging by the way his expression shifted, he noticed too.
Which only made him seem far more amused than he had any right to be.
You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance as you took a step back and glanced at him again.
"Narumi, I'm kind of busy today. I'll text you later when I'm free."
"âŠYou're busy?" he repeated, his voice suddenly sounded flatter than before.
"I promised Kafka I'd help him pick out a present for Reno."
Narumi's expression immediately soured.
For a brief moment, he looked genuinely offended.
"Kafka? That walking weapon?"
"You're rude, Gen."
Narumi scowled.
"He is a weapon." he argued, as if that settled the matter.
"Since when is a weapon a walking, breathing human being?"
Narumi opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
After a few seconds, he simply crossed his arms and looked away.
"And he's interested in Mina, not meâ" the words slipped out before you could stop them.
You froze.
Did I just⊠try to reassure him?
Like he had any reason to be jealous in the first place?
Heat immediately rushed to your face. To hide it, you turned your head toward the window, suddenly finding the First Division parking lot far more interesting than the conversation.
"The gift shopping shouldn't take long," you muttered.
Your gaze settled on a random pigeon pecking at the pavement outside.
"I already have an idea of what he could get Reno, so we'll be done pretty quickly."
You could feel his eyes on you.
The silence stretched.
One second.
Then another.
Long enough to make you painfully aware of your own heartbeat.
"âŠFine."
His answer was short... yet somehow, it sounded like he was thinking about what you'd said far more than he wanted to admit.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Fast.
You watched him disappear down the hallway, your eyes lingering on his back.
He was probably heading straight back to his office.
Still, something felt off.
His stride lacked its usual lazinessâthe relaxed confidence of someone who always acted like he had all the time in the world, even when Hasegawa was yelling at him about unfinished paperwork.
This time, his pace was noticeably quicker.
The moment he disappeared around the corner, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
What was that?
He hadn't teased you about your awkward slip-up.
Hadn't brought up the way you'd suddenly frozen.
Hadn't even smirked.
What you didn't know was that the second his office door shut behind him, Narumi leaned back against the wooden door and exhaled sharply. To anyone passing by, it might have sounded like irritation.
Like he'd just dealt with something incredibly annoying.
But his ears?
They were bright red.
Narumi slowly slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor. He pulled one knee up and buried his face in his hand.
The silence of his office suddenly felt much louder than usual.
His gaze remained fixed on the opposite wall, though he wasn't really looking at it.
All he could think about was your voice.
That stupid reassurance.
Kafka likes Mina, not me.
And then there was the way you'd immediately looked away afterward.
The way your face had heated up when he'd stepped closer.
Narumi groaned.
"FuckâŠ"
He squeezed his eyes shut.
No.
No, no, no.
There was no way he was actually crushing on you.
Right?
He'd never seriously liked anyone before.
Sure, he'd had the occasional crush, but those had always come and gone without leaving much of an impression.
Nothing like this.
Nothing that had him replaying conversations.
Nothing that made his chest tighten every time someone else's name came up.
Fuck you, (y/n).
The thought wasn't angry.
If anything, it sounded tired.
Resigned.
Like he'd stumbled into something he wasn't prepared for and had no idea how to get out of it.
Narumi dragged both hands down his face.
This is stupid.
I'm stupid.
How was he supposed to act when you came back later? He genuinely had no idea.
That had never been a problem before. Narumi didn't plan how to act around people he liked.
He just existed.
People either tolerated him, got annoyed with him.
contents: female reader, unspoken feelings, Jabber being annoying and weird.
Watching them was like watching the same argument play out over and over again, just with different words each time.
Neither of them ever seemed willing to back down. Most of the time, (y/n) would mutter something under her breath whenever he got on her nerves â usually an insult, low enough that only he could hear it.
Whenever missions were assigned, she'd immediately ask to be paired with anyone but him, loud enough for him to hear.
And whenever she insulted him?
He always fired back with the same nickname.
"Prissy princess."
Usually followed by him tugging on her ponytail before she could retaliate, already smirking like he knew exactly how much it would set her off.
Jabber seemed to make it his personal mission to annoy her.
He'd trail behind her like a shadow, poke her shoulder just to watch her flinch, cut into conversations she clearly wanted him nowhere near, or drop some ridiculous comment out of nowhere â anything, really, as long as it got a reaction out of her.
For some reason, he found it endlessly entertaining.
Sometimes the way he acted around you made it seem like he was high, operating on a level of nonsense no one else could understand.
"Prissy princess~!" he sang, popping the nickname like bubblegum.
"Why you always so mad? Did your crown fall off again?" He reached out lightning-fast â snap â and yanked your ponytail hard enough to make you stumble half a step.
Deliberately annoying, and clearly proud of it.
Before you could even raise a fist, he was already dancing back, laughing that wild laugh of his. He zigzagged ahead of you down the scrap-heap path, turning around every few seconds like he couldn't help himself: "Did ya miss me?"
"Just die already." you said, deadpan, still walking through the base corridors.
.
.
.
One time you tried to outsmart him⊠and let your hair down.
To your surprise, he froze. He came to a stop, and for a brief moment, his laughter fell silent.
Your hair, usually tied up tight in that stubborn ponytail, now fell loose around your shoulders â strands catching dust motes in a slant of grimy sunlight filtering down from the above-ground pipes.
"âŠHuh."
For once, he didn't have a sarcastic remark ready. No loud proclamation about how dumb you looked, or why long hair was stupid and impractical and probably attracted parasites â even if he had pretty long hair himself.
"Have it, if you need it so much." You extended your hand toward him, the hair tie dangling from your finger.
It was sarcastic. Almost a passive-aggressive act.
Like a switch flipped, his whole face lit up with pure, chaotic glee.
"Oho? You wear it every day, don't ya? It's like you're gifting me your jinki or somethin'."
He reached for your hand, but then pulled his own back.
"Nahhh, I changed my mind! Tie it up again~"
Your brow arched at his sudden change of heart.
You had barely blinked before he vanished from your sight.
He'd always been ridiculously fast.
Before you could even turn your head to look behind you, an arm slipped around your neck, locking you in a tight chokehold. The crook of his elbow pressed beneath your chin while his other hand secured the hold, leaving you pinned against him.
"Jabber!!"
"SHHHH!" he cackled right in your ear â hot breath, manic energy.
"Let go of me!"
"Not until you admit you like me~"
"Jabber, for fuck's sake!!â"
"Wanna try it again? Jabber~, for fuck's saaaakeâ"
You drove your hips back into his, breaking his balance.
The moment you felt his weight shift, you stepped across him, turning your hips squarely in front of his. One hand clamped down on his arm while the other controlled his shoulder, pulling him forward. With a sharp twist of your hips and a powerful pull, you sent him cleanly over your shoulder.
His feet left the ground for a split second before his back slammed down with a heavy thud.
You let out a short breath, remaining on your feet as you loomed over him.
Jabber was too shocked to even react as he hit the ground, the air whooshing out of his lungs in a strangled gasp.
He stared up at you from below, a smirk tugging at his lips that made it clear he was exactly where he wanted to be.
"...Damn," he rasped. "...That was kinda hot." Your eyes narrowed in annoyance as you brought your boot down hard beside his head, the impact echoing through the concrete â a clear warning rather than an actual threat.
But almost as quickly as you did it, you stepped back, pivoted on your heel, and started toward headquarters without another glance.
Jabber shook with laughter, rolling onto his side just to poke at the spot where your boot had landed.
"Aw, c'mon! You're gonna leave me all wounded like this? After you gave me the best view of my life?"
.
.
.
The basement was silent â thick with the stillness of aftermath. Jabber stood over his fallen opponent, a smirk on his face.
The enemy had crumpled like wet paper within seconds of inhaling the sweet, colorless gas he'd released into the sealed chamber. No screams. He turned around casually, stretching one arm above his head and yawning like he'd just finished napping instead of gassing out an entire squad alone.
That's when he saw you.
You stood at the doorway â calm posture, sharp eyes scanning the scene: bodies slumped here and there.
Your gaze landed on him.
Then on them.
Then back to him.
You exhaled through your nose â a soft "tsk" â and turned away. Jabber watched you leave, the smirk still on his face. He didn't think anything of it â you were always like that.
He shrugged and followed after you, claws retracting with soft clicks as he took the stairs two at a time.
He was nearing the ground floor when he heard a thud â something heavy hitting the ground, barely a few meters ahead of him.
The moment his foot finally landed on the ground floor, his eyes found the cause of the commotion.
You, face-down on the concrete. No movement. No twitching finger, no breath.
He just stared.
His amused smile briefly faltered in surprise.
Then a mutter slipped out under his breath. "You must be jokin'âŠ"
He sauntered up to you, then squatted down next to your body.
Without a moment's hesitation, he seized your arm and flipped you onto your back.
He glanced at your face, and his smirk widened.
"Your tolerance sucks."
He jabbed your cheek with his finger â hard, practically digging it into your skin. When he didn't see so much as a twitch of your eyelid or the slightest furrow of your brow, he let out a weary sigh, as though he'd expected you to magically tolerate his gas. He dropped to his knees beside you, bracing one hand next to your head. As he leaned in close, pressing his ear near your lips to listen for your breathing, his eyes drifted lower, settling on your chest.
For a moment his eyes wandered to where your shirt dipped low, but then he blinked and forced himself to focus on the rise and fall of your chest instead.
His toy to tease was breathing, just out cold, like the rest of the enemies scattered beneath them.
"I hope ya ain't as heavy as that sounded."
He let out one last sigh before slinging you over his shoulder. He adjusted you once, making sure you weren't gonna slide off, then straightened up with a grunt.
"Ugh⊠you're..." he muttered to himself as he started walking toward the dilapidated exit.
.
.
.
The first thing you felt was the soft material beneath your body, and then you heard a low hum right beside you. It was unclear, difficult to make out, but continuous, as if it were some kind of prayer.
You opened your eyes and looked down at yourself. A dried flower rested between your hands â cracked, brown, fragile-looking.
"What theâ"
You shot up into a sitting position, and the dried flowers tucked into your hair fell onto the floor beside the couch. Your eyes immediately locked onto the figure sitting on a stool next to you.
"How ya feelin', prissy princess?" Jabber sat cross-legged on the stool, head tilted slightly, one elbow propped on his knee as he watched you wake with that stupidly calm smile plastered across his face â the kind that meant he'd absolutely done this on purpose and found it hilarious.
His grin widened when you glared at him after recognizing what had happened â the funeral-like setup arranged around you.
"I found 'em outside." he admitted casually, leaning down to pick up one of the fallen flowers.
"Like I care."
Then you noticed the open first-aid kit beside him on the small table. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you tried to see whether he'd slipped one of his disgusting little vials inside.
"Were you trying to inject something into me?" you asked as you sank deeper into the couch, glancing at your arm with suspicion.
"Damn girl, you think I'm gonna inject you with something you don't need? I'm a dick, not a monster."
"Truly reassuring."
Jabber shrugged, unperturbed. His gaze softened a fraction, but his tone stayed snarky.
"Besides, if you can't handle my gas, you wouldn't even come close to surviving a direct injection. UnlessâŠ"
"No, you're still not going to convince me that your strange little ritual of injecting yourself with neurotoxins is training. You do it because you want to get high."
"Tch. Look who's playing the saint."
"Uhhh⊠just shut up already," you sighed, suddenly becoming painfully aware of the absence of your jacket.
"Where's my jacket?"
"I think the seam in your jacket popped when I lifted you."
Your mouth opened and closed as if his words weren't reaching you.
"...What did you do?" you repeated quietly under your breath, even though you'd understood him perfectly. One hand was already reaching into the pocket of your pants.
"YEP." He stood up from the stool so quickly that he nearly knocked it over. "I recommend looking for it in the dumpster by the road!"
"Jabber!" you shouted back, but the man was already gone from where he'd been standing moments before.
Instinctively, and with growing nerves, you shoved your entire hand into your pocket to pull out your small pocketknife â but you froze when you felt nothing.
He'd stolen it from you.
But at the same time, you felt another small object. You pulled it out and looked at it.
A silver ring. Without a word, you tried slipping it onto one of your fingers, but it was too big for all of them. Then, after a moment, you realized who it belonged to.
"Oh..."
You thought you'd make a good soldier, which is why you took the Defense Force exam.
You managed to pass it on your second try, barely â but you met the minimum.
The only thing that comforted you was the fact that you weren't the worst⊠because besides you, the worst one was some guy who looked about thirty-five⊠though why you were even comparing yourself to him, you had no idea.
You could swear that every time the Third Division gathered, that familiar laugh haunted you.
Hoshina.
And you were never sure whether he was laughing at Kafka, or at you. But what difference did it make? Your first actual mission was a mess. Despite the warnings, you were completely unprepared. The reality of the invasion was nothing like you'd imagined, and in your first official battle, you were more a liability than an actual asset.
But still, Hoshina â despite having more important things to do â had taken the time to save your incompetent ass, and it was probably more out of pity than anything else.
.
.
.
"One more lap, (y/n)!" your friend shouted encouragingly.
You could barely keep your legs moving at this point. Noticing your pace slowing, they grabbed your wrist and pulled you along for a few steps, doing their best to help.
Suddenly, a loud yet strangely melodious voice cut across the training field.
"(your surname)! At this pace you will never become a soldier!! Three months and you are out!"
Hoshina's voice carried easily across the field. Leaning against the railing, he looked down at the rookies running laps below. A smirk spread across his face as he watched you stumble, his violet eyes tracking your every move.
Resting his chin on one hand, he observed you in silence for a moment before straightening up and clapping twice.
"Alright! New plan: if (your surname) finishes in under two minutes from now... Iâll drive you all home after training."
His grin turned dangerously playful.
"Vice-captain..." you puffed out, searching for even a hint of mercy.
"I can'tâ"
He casually tapped the timer on his phone.
"Clock's ticking."
Amused, he watched as you forced yourself into another lap.
"One minute left, (your surname)." he called when you were about halfway around the track. Your lungs burned, but somehow you kept going.
Hoshina watched you collapse onto the grass after crossing the finish line. The cheers from the other rookies echoed across the training field.
His amusement faded slightly.
Still not good enoughâŠ
With your current pace, you'd never survive the battlefield.
Hoshina started making his way over, his steps slow and unhurried.
As he approached, his gaze fell on your exhausted form sprawled out on the grass. Before he could say anything, your friend beat him to it, already crouching beside you and handing you a bottle of water.
"Jeez, (y/n)~ You look like a corpse!"
Your friend dropped down onto the grass beside you.
Hoshina stopped a few steps away.
A smirk tugged at his lips â smaller this time, but no less amused.
.
.
.
Three months passed and you weren't kicked out of the Third Division â Hoshina's warning didn't seem so dangerous as it had been before.
But sometimes he was nitpicking at you.
A soldier stepped closer, clearly intending to help you adjust your stance.
Before they could reach you, Hoshina let out a quiet hum. The soldier froze mid-step, weapon still half-raised in a hesitant attempt to help. Hoshina didn't look intimidatingâstill smiling, still relaxedâbut something in the atmosphere subtly shifted.
He tapped the soldier lightly on the shoulder with two fingersâonce, as a dismissal.
The recruit flinched and hurried away without a word.
Soshiro turned fully back to you, ignoring the fading footsteps behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest, one eyebrow lifting slightly in quiet judgment.
"Can't even hold your own rifle without someone breathing down your neck?" he mused, tilting his head with feigned curiosity.
"You're stronger than that."
"I c-can!" you stuttered, the words slipping out before you had time to think. You quickly tried to recover. "I just wanted to be sureâ"
His grin stayed in placeâeasy, almost playfulâbut his eyes didnât quite match it.
He took a slow step forward.
Then another.
"You wanted to be sure?" he repeated, voice light, almost teasing. His violet gaze flicked down to your hands for a brief momentâthe faint tremor around the rifle stockâbefore returning to your face.
"Careful," he added, softer now, like it was almost advice rather than criticism. "If you keep overthinking like that, youâll hesitate when it actually matters."
A pause.
Then his smile tilted slightly, as if the seriousness had never fully been there.
"âŠAnd Iâd hate to see that."
.
.
A loud bang echoed through the changing room as you kicked the locker.
"What is wrong with him?!" you snapped, kicking it again â this time lighter. "Does he seriously have a problem with me?!"
A vein pulsed at your temple as irritation built up.
Your friend quickly patted your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down.
"(y/n)⊠be quieterâ"
"Mina already left, so we can talk about whatever we want!" you interrupted, pouting childishly.
"Maybe he likes you," another colleague muttered while changing nearby.
"What? Have you completely lost it?!" you shot back immediately, your voice sharp with disbelief.
The words hung in the air for a second.
Then you exhaled.
"He's not my type."
The colleague giggled at your sharp reaction, seemingly unfazed by your obvious annoyance.
She gave an exaggerated shrug while continuing to get dressed, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Ooh, someone's defensive~" she teased. "What, you don't think you're pretty enough for him?"
"He's too short and his eyes areâŠ" you began to speak. "Like this!!"
You squeezed your eyes shut and used your fingers to pull the corners upward in an exaggerated imitation. For a moment, silence fell over the room. Then a loud burst of laughter echoed from your friend and colleague.
"BAHAHAH, YOU DAMNâ" The two of them completely lost it, laughter filling the changing room. Your friend doubled over, clutching her side as she struggled to breathe, while the other leaned against the locker for support.
"I can'tâ" your colleague wheezed between laughs.
"You can't just SAY things like that, (y/n)!! If he heard youâ"
"Then what? He'll attack me with his short swords? His brother's a better swordsman anyway." you replied with a smug tilt of your head.
"Oh my god," they managed to gasp. "You're terrible. If he ever hears that, you are deadâ"
"He can try." you said, sticking your tongue out defiantly, as if he were nothing more than a joke.
.
.
The girls had finally settled down for the evening. The changing room had grown quieter, filled only with the occasional murmur of conversation and the rustle of clothes as everyone got ready for bed. One by one, most of the women filtered out.
Your friend had already left as well. Not wanting to be left behind, you quickly gathered your things and hurried after them.
The moment you stepped outside, however, something caught your attention.
Someone was standing there.
You only caught a glimpse of the figure from the corner of your eye, but before you could even turn your head, a familiar voice reached you.
"Having fun?"
His tone didn't sound angry.
If anything, it was light. Casual. Carrying none of the irritation you'd expected.
Slowly, you turned toward him.
Hoshina leaned against the wall, looking perfectly at ease. His eyes were closed, his posture loose and relaxed, as though he'd been standing there for a while.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then his lips curled slightly.
"I gotta say," he said lightly, "I didn't know my height was such a hot topic."
You nearly choked.
"W-Waitâ"
"Oh?" Hoshina tilted his head. "So you were talking about me?"
"I wasn't!"
"Mhm..." The smile on his face only widened.
"I swear to God!" you blurted out. "I knew another Hoshina back in primary schoolâ"
That earned a laugh from him.
"That's a pretty convenient excuse."
Heat immediately rushed to your face. Hoshina watched you stumble through your explanation, each attempt somehow sounding worse than the last.
Judging by the amusement in his expression, he was enjoying this far more than he had any right to. Eventually, he pushed himself away from the wall.
"Relax," he said. "If I got upset every time someone talked behind my back, I'd never get any work done."
You opened your mouth, only to close it again.
A brief pause followed.
"Though the 'my brother's the better swordsman' comment did hurt a little."
The dramatic sigh that followed completely ruined any chance of taking him seriously.
You lifted your gaze from the floor, only to meet his eyes again.
This time, they were slightly wider than beforeâjust enough for you to clearly make out the violet of his irises. The color seemed softer beneath the dim hallway lights.
"Y'know..." he murmured at last, his voice lower than usual, almost conspiratorial. "I think I'd like ya a lot better if ya stopped talkin' shit about me."
.
.
.
Months later, summer festival season arrived â fireworks included. Hoshina had invited you to watch them together.
At first, you were going to refuse, but the moment he mentioned he'd pay for snacks... well, your resistance didn't last very long.
You showed up dressed casually, throwing on the first blouse you found and a pair of loose cargo shorts.
He'd told you to meet him near the gate, so you waited on the nearest bench, legs stretched out lazily as you leaned your head back.
"Move over." Your eyes snapped open at the familiar voice.
Without thinking, your gaze drifted downward. A yukata.
You choked slightly on your own saliva. Right.
You'd almost forgotten â he came from one of those old, respected families... samurai lineage, Muromachi era and all that. Not that it mattered most of the time â except when he showed up dressed like this.
The fabric looked simple at first glance, but the more you looked, the more expensive it clearly was.
Hoshina let out an amused breath as he sat down beside you. "Something wrong?" He tilted his head just enough for his fox-like eyes to catch your expression.
"Never seen a yukata before?"
"You could've told me about this," you muttered, giving him a light shove â more flustered than actually angry. "I would've gone home to get mine!"
He let himself be pushed, even though it was obvious he couldâve stopped you without effort.
"What, and miss that flustered look on your face?" he teased, giving you a slow once-over. "You look fine. The shorts and shirt suit you."
He leaned in slightly, tone turning just a bit smug.
"Besidesâyou have no idea how to tie an obi anyway."
"And you certainly donât either!" you shot back immediately. "Youâve got servants or somethingâŠ" you added under your breath, idly kicking at a small stone near your foot.
Hoshina let out a sudden laughâsharp and genuine, amusement flickering across his face. He leaned a little closer, a sly smirk settling on his lips. "Thatâs where youâd be wrong," he murmured, voice lower now, almost conspiratorial.
"I know exactly how to tie an obi. Better than you, apparently."
A brief pause.
"âŠWant me to prove it?"
"No, thank you," you answered instantly. "You already told me yukata donât fit me, so I donât need that kind of knowledge."
His gaze flickered over your outfit again.
"Didnât say it didnât fit you," he corrected smoothly. "I said I preferred you in this."
"Just⊠buy me those snacks already." you said, a little flustered by his words. He hadnât said anything strange, and yet your face still felt warm.
"âŠAlright, alright," Hoshina glanced at you briefly, then toward the row of food stalls ahead. "Snacks first." He stood in one fluid motion, the yukata rustling softly as he turned toward the festival. But just before he walked off, he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Dango or takoyaki?"
"It should be obvious I want takoyaki." you muttered under your breath, getting up from the bench to follow him.
Hoshina shot you a knowing smirk over his shoulder, clearly amused by your tone. When you reached the stall, he ordered two servings of takoyaki without hesitation. After paying, he handed you one of the paper trays and kept the other for himself.
Your eyes drifted to his hand as he lifted a piece toward his mouth.
"Since when do you prefer takoyaki over dango?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "I was sure you were more into sweet things..." you added more quietly.
It wasnât like you had anything to hide. You just⊠werenât used to noticing things like that. Not about him.
Hoshina paused just as he was about to bite into his takoyaki, glancing sideways at you with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? Youâve been keeping track, have you?" he said after a moment, a sly smirk forming on his lips.
"I do prefer sweet," he admitted. "...But sometimes I want something salty too."
"Ugh, forget about it." You quickly looked away, focusing a little too hard on the festival lights in the distance instead of the warmth creeping up your neck.
He didnât question your sudden retreat, though his smirk only grew when he noticed the faint blush on your face.
The festival buzzed around youâmusic, laughter, the scent of grilled food and sweet mochi hanging thick in the summer air. People drifted past with glowing paper lanterns, casting warm golden ripples across Hoshinaâs face as he stood beside you.
He took another bite of takoyaki, slow and unbothered, chewing like he had all the time in the world. Then he casually wiped a crumb from his lip with his thumb.
Hoshina finished his takoyaki in quiet companionship, then crumpled the paper tray and tossed it into a nearby bin.
"Fireworks start soon." he said, glancing at his watch.
You finished chewing your takoyaki and walked over to the same bin. You threw away the empty tray, but your eyes drifted past itâtoward a random group of people at the festival.
It was a colleague from your division. She was with two other girls, all from the Third Division. Without looking away, you quickly wiped your hand on your pants. Then you walked back to him, a little faster this time.
"Umm⊠letâs go somewhere else."
You knew he wouldnât have minded if they joined you, if you all hung out together.
But you didnât want that.
Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it wasnât even a date. Still⊠you wanted to be alone with him.
"But this isnât such a bad spotâ" he began, glancing at you in mild confusion.
But before he could finish, your hand was already around his wrist. "Come on." you repeated, more firmly this time.
Hoshina blinked.
Not because your grip was strongâit wasnât. You weren't really pulling him, just holding his wrist with soft but insistent pressure. It was the initiative itself that caught him off guard.
You never grabbed first.
Never led.
Usually, it was him who set the pace, teasing you into following along without much effort.
His breath hitchedâjust slightly.
Suddenly, he was the one being led instead.
His violet eyes flickered down to where your fingers were wrapped around his wrist. For a brief moment, he simply stared. Then, without protest, he let you pull him away from the takoyaki stall and toward a quieter path through the thinning crowd.
For a while, he let you lead him through the sparse stretch of woods. As another viewing area came into sight ahead, Hoshina suddenly pulled his hand free.
You stopped at once and turned back, a question already forming on your lips.
Then his hand caught yours again.
Before you could react, his fingers slipped between yours, weaving together in one smooth, deliberate motion.
Hoshina moved with quiet precision, like everything he did was measured and intentional. It wasn't a clumsy grab or an awkward attempt at affection.
His fingers laced through yoursâwarm, slightly calloused from years of sword trainingâand his palm settled snugly against yours.
"H-Hoshina?" you blurted out, completely caught off guard. Your hand remained stiff in his, as if the rest of you had simply stopped working for a moment.
He just looked at you in silenceâhis violet eyes half-open now, softened by the dim glow of the paper lanterns lining the path. Without breaking eye contact, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, slowly curling his fingers more securely around yours as if making sure you wouldn't pull away.
The warmth between your palms seemed to grow stronger.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"Relax." he murmured.
"How am I supposed to relax?!" you sputtered, glaring at him in flustered disbelief while desperately trying to disguise it as irritation.
But before he could answer, fireworks drowned out your protest. The first one shot into the sky above your heads, partially framed by the scattered trees lining the path. A brilliant burst of gold and crimson bloomed overhead.
Then another.
And another.
Colors spilled across the night in flashes of pink, blue, and white, reflecting in Hoshina's eyes.
The distant booms rolled through the summer air. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.
No festival crowd.
No colleagues who might have spotted the two of you together.
No ranks. No titles. No expectations waiting back at Tachikawa Base.
Just this. Fireworks blooming above a quiet stretch of woodsâ and his hand holding yours.
Just came across your blog and I just wanted to reach out and say you write for narumi so beautifully and so different than the way others do. Ive read your work over and over and over its so good
I didn't write for years, so I was afraid that is going to be mid đđ
Some of my shots start to feel questionable to me over time, but I feel bad deleting them when someone has enjoyed them (although Narumi shots are safe I guess).
I can swear to you I have a lot of samples, but this year is really busy for me, so Iâll most likely post something in spring. I have a habit of waiting a few days after I finish writing everything, then rereading it once Iâve forgotten about it. If it feels good, thatâs when I edit and fix the mistakes.
Gaku stayed in a motel far from home, sent on a mission to another city. Yet despite the purpose, a deep loneliness began to settle within himâhe found himself aching with longing.
feat. Gaku ‷ ă ËËË wc. 1,7k
contents: female reader, humping, masturbation, video call.
You groggily opened your eyes, feeling half-awake and disoriented. You glanced over at the clock on the nightstandâ 2:43 AM. Who the hell was messaging you this late?
With a small, sleepy grumble, you reached for your phoneâand froze when you saw the string of new messages from Gaku. The sight of his name made your heart skip a beat.
But these werenât messages.
They were photos.
And not just any photosâhim. Half-naked, shirtless in that dim motel room light, his white hair slightly messy from sleep. Muscles taut. Jaw clenched. Crimsons eyes burning straight into the camera like he could see you through it.
Then anotherâhis hand wrapped around himself, stroking slow and rough as he stared down at the lens with dark hunger. The caption beneath:
> "Woke up hard thinking about you."
> "Still want to ignore me?"
Your breath hitched as a third photo came throughâthis one a voice note blinking on your screen, red and urgent.
You pressed play.
A low, ragged growl filled the silence of your room.
"You better be awake right now⊠'cause Iâm gonna make sure you donât sleep again until youâre screaming my name."
You felt your heart skip a beat at the sound of his voiceâso rough and hoarse and needy.
It was like that damn voice alone was enough to ignite something inside you.
Still, you glanced at the time.
2:46 AM
He really had no shame, texting you so late.
With a huff, you hit the call button beside his name. The phone rang exactly onceâ
Thenâ
Click.
Gakuâs voice came through, low and darkâdripping with hunger. "Finally answering my calls?" he murmured, his tone rough like gravel. "Youâve been ignoring me all night."
There was a pause before you could hear the soft slide of skin on skin in the backgroundâhis hand still moving slowly, deliberately over himself as if he hadnât stopped at all.
Thenâ
"I hope you're wet for me⊠because I'm going to ruin that sweet little body when I get home."
"Could you...turn on camera? I want to humpâ"
Gaku groaned, low and deep, as you finally responded to him. It was just a few simple wordsâbut there was something about that blunt honesty that made his cock ache.
He wasted no time in hitting the video call button, the screen of his phone shifting to show you that he hadn't stoppedâstill hard and stroking at a slow, deliberate pace, like he needed it.
"See me, sweetheart?" he growled. "See what you do to me..."
You shifted on a bed, making make-shift dildo from cloth.
Gaku watched through the camera as you moved, your every motion sharp in the dim glow of your phone light. His breath hitched when he saw what you were doingâhow youâd improvised with that cloth, pressing it between your thighs like a poor substitute for him.
He let out a rough, dark laughâhalf amusement, half pure lust.
"Pathetic," he murmured into the mic, his voice thick with hunger as his hand sped up slightly on camera. "But so damn cute."
Then he leaned closer to the lensâcrimson eyes burning straight into yours through the screen.
"Now hump that thing like Iâm inside you... or Iâll make sure you donât come at all when I get back."
"Nn-"
Your breath hitched at his wordsârough and dark and dominant. You hated that he could get you this worked up with just a few filthy words, despite the fact that he wasn't even in the same goddamn city right now.
But as the tension coiled tight in your stomach, his voice low and commanding in your ears, you couldn't deny the effect he had on you.
"Good girl." Gaku's voice dripped with approval, thick and dark through the speaker. His strokes matched yoursâslow at first, then harder as he watched you on the screen squirm for him.
"That's it... pretend it's my cock splitting you open."
Then his tone shiftedâlower, sharper.
A warning.
"And don't you dare come until I say so."
God, that voice.
He wasn't even there, and yet he still had this power to make you fall apartâto have you following his commands as if he was there, whispering them straight into your ear.
You let out a small whimper as you tried to keep yourself together. "Yes," you gasped into the mic, eyes locked on the screen.
"I'll be- mmm. I'll be good."
Gaku let out a rough, low growl at your wordsâeyes darkening with something between pride and possessive hunger as he watched you writhe on screen.
"You're going to be so fucking perfect when I get home."
he muttered, his voice raw. His hand moved faster nowârough, demanding strokes that matched the intensity in his eyes.
Then he leaned closer to the camera, breath hitching as he locked onto your face.
"But until then? You don't come."
A pause.
A smirk.
"Unless I allow it."
"Why you never allow me to buy dildoâ" you started complaining when you began to grow weary.
Gakuâs eyes darkenedâimmediately irritated at the very idea. "Because you donât need one," he snapped, voice rough with jealousy and possessiveness. "You have me."
Gaku watched you through the camera, his jaw clenching at the sound of your protests. He could tell just how desperate you were for any kind of frictionâand honestly? He loved it. He loved how worked up you got, how you needed him so badly that even a makeshift toy was better than nothing.
He chuckled darkly, eyes glittering with a mix of satisfaction and hunger as he watched you grind against the cloth.
"Aww⊠Poor honey," he mock-cooed. "Is it hard to feel satisfied without me there?"
A vein popped in your cheek from irritation.
"Oi!! I will buy vibrator if you keep being so mean!"
Gaku's expression shifted instantly â the smugness melting into something darker, more intense.
His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl.
"Try it."
He leaned closer to the camera, eyes blazing with pure possession. "Buy one. Hide it under your pillow, wherever. Doesn't matter."
A slow, predatory smirk curled his lips as his hand stilled on his cock â deliberate, like he was making a point.
"I'll find it... and I'll break it right in front of you."
he paused â then added in a whisper. "...Then Iâll make you come with nothing but my hands and my mouth."
His tone wasnât playful anymore.
It was a promise.
"You're impossible!" you huffed, cheeks puffing up like an irritated child. You turned your head away from the screen with a dramatic pout, even if the camera caught every second of it.
But...you couldn't lie. The way he said that last partâwith my hands and mouthâmade heat crawl low in your stomach all over again.
Gaku, of course, noticed.
"And yet youâre still wet for me," he murmured, voice thick with dark amusement as his eyes traced your every move on the screen. "Still grinding on that pathetic little cloth like a good girl."
Thenâhe slowly lifted his hand from himself and brought it to his lips, licking two fingers slow and deliberately.
"I can taste you already."
You could feel itâthe way your body responded to that filthy, slow motion of his tongue on his fingers. Your hips rocked harder against the cloth between your legs, as if trying to get closer to him even through the screen.
"G-Gakuâ" you whimpered, voice shaky.
He smirkedâknowing he had you right where he wanted you.
"What? Can't take it?" his hand moved back down, resuming its slow strokes as his eyes burned into yours through the camera. "Then imagine thisâŠ"
He dragged one hand down his chest, then lowerâhis voice dropping even further as he circled a fingertip just above his cock in a slow, teasing motion.
"Then imagine me sliding my cock inside you⊠stretching you open..."
He could see itâthe way you were rocking against that cloth faster, harder now, a small cry catching in your throat as the pressure built.
His expression darkened furtherâhe was almost cruel now.
"Mmm⊠you like that, sweetheart?"
He was teasing you now, his hand still barely touching himself, just barely stroking.
Then he chuckledâa low, dark sound that sent chills down your spine.
"Are you close?"
He watched your movements carefullyâyour uneven breaths, the way your hips trembled as you ground down harder on the makeshift toy.
A slow smirk curled his lips.
"Youâre such a mess without me." he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. His thumb brushed over the head of his cock, collecting a bead of precum.
You collapsed back onto the bed with a soft whimper, breathless and unsatisfiedâyour body worn out from the effort, the friction barely enough to push you over.
Gaku saw it all. The way your muscles slackened. The defeated slump of your shoulders.
His smirk turned sharpâalmost disappointed.
"So weak," he murmured, voice low and dark with mock disdain.
"All that noise⊠and you still couldnât come?"
Then his eyes softenedâjust slightlyâas if realizing how truly exhausted you were.
After a beat, his tone shiftedâsofter now, but still laced with dominance:
"Go to sleep."
He didnât ask. He commanded. But there was something beneath itâa rare flicker of care.
And just before ending the call? He added in a rough whisper:
"...Iâll make it good when I get home."
And with thatâthe screen went black as the call ended, leaving you in the dim silence of your room.
contents: female reader, reader is Narumi's vice-captain, confessions.
The mess hall buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Division leaders, platoon heads, even grumpy old commandersâyoung and oldâgathered under the soft glow of festival lanterns strung across the ceiling.
It was a rare sight: no uniforms strictly enforced.
Just people.
And at the center of it all?
First Divisionâs table.
Where you satâshoulder-to-shoulder with Gen, who had somehow managed to steal an entire platter of grilled meat from the Third Divisionâs table without them noticing.
Again.
"You're mean." you muttered with a sigh, biting into your chicken breast.
He shot you a sideways smirk, white-streaked bangs falling into his eyes as he tore into a drumstick like a feral animal.
"Mean? Me?" he barked out a laugh. "Iâm just efficient. That meat was going to waste."
You rolled your eyesâknowing full well the Third Division had been saving that platter for Soshiro Hoshina.
Which meant Narumi took it on purpose.
And then he nudged your foot with his own. When you turned to him with a frown, he slid half of his food onto your plateâwithout even looking at you.
"âŠEat more," he muttered, turning away like he hadnât just done something soft. "Donât wanna carry your ass back if you pass out from hunger."
And when you glanced up?
The corner of his mouth was twitchingânot from anger.
From pride.
Because you were the only one who ever saw him do shit like this.
"You're terrible." you said, amused.
He bit into another drumstick with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. "I've been called worse."
Then he leaned back slightly, arm brushing against yoursâaccidentally.
"You should be grateful. I just shared my dinner with you."
He smirked, wiping greasy fingers on his shirt with a flick. But his magenta eyes were sparkling under the lanterns.
"I feel kinda bad for Hoshina. Lately, heâs been helping me carry groceriesâ"
Gen froze.
Thenâlike someone had just tossed an ice cube down his backâhe slowly turned his head to stare at you, mouth half-full of meat.
"...What."
The word came out flat.
Cold.
Disbelieving.
You blinked.
"He helped me carry groceries yesterday. Wasn't that nice?"
For a long second, Gen didnât move.
Then he slammed the drumstick down onto the plate with a clack.
"Hoshina doesnât help," he growled lowly, voice rough enough to cut steel. "He plots. He manipulates. Heâ"
"âcarried three bags of rice up four flights of stairs without complaining?" you finished dryly.
Genâs eye twitched.
"You think I donât know what heâs doing?" He leaned in, voice dropping like they were discussing enemy movements on the battlefield.
"Classic Third Division tactics. Gain trust through small acts of kindness! Next thing you know? You're borrowing his damn jacket and suddenlyâbam!âyou're emotionally compromised."
You stared at him blankly.
"âŠit was raining," you said after a beat. "And my hands were full."
"Exactly!" Narumi snapped, pointing accusingly across the room where Hoshina sat laughing with his menâwith that stupid perfect smile and neat uniformâ"Emotional ambush!"
Before anyone could reactâbefore logic could winâhe grabbed your half-empty plate and piled every scrap of stolen meat from his own onto it in one messy heap.
"There." he muttered darkly, pushing it toward you like some kind of offering battle spoils to appease a furious god.
"Just stop being nice to the enemy."
You looked at him, deadpan.
"I'll give him some bottles of beer."
Youâve always been deeply empathetic, so guilt tends to devour you. Yeah, you did eat stolen meat, but as long as you give something back in return, itâll be fine.
The fact was, Narumi despised alcohol, so it was a win-win.
He watched you stand, horror slowly dawning in his magenta eyes.
"You are notâ"
"âI'm giving him beer," you said firmly, already stepping away.
"As thanks."
He choked on air.
"Beer?! You're rewarding the enemy?! (y/n)âdon't you dareâ"
But it was too late.
You grabbed two cold bottles from the side table and walked straight toward Third Divisionâs end of the hall, hips swaying just enough to drive Gen mad with irritation.
Hoshina looked up, surprisedâand then grinned like heâd won the lottery when he saw you approaching.
"Ah! Vice-Captain (y/n)! To what do I owe this honor?"
You handed him one bottle with a polite nod.
"For helping me yesterday â thank you."
The entire Third Division fell silent for a split second before erupting into cheers and wolf-whistles.
Across the room?
Narumi stood up so fast that his chair tipped over.
"(y/n)!!" he roaredânot loud enough to cause chaos, but loud enough for everyone at both tables to hearâhis familiar brashness laced with denial and pure jealousy wrapped in righteous fury.
As you heard Narumi, your gaze turned slightly deadpan.
It was like you were silently berating yourselfâyou shouldâve seen that reaction coming.
But at the same time, you hoped that, just once in his life, he wouldnât be so dramatic, like heâd die just from breathing the same air as Hoshina.
You gave an apologetic nod to Hoshina, as if apologizing for Genâs behavior.
Hoshina held his hands up in surrender, his eyes sparkling with good-natured humor.
"No apology needed," he said with that charming smile.
"I understand. First Division men are...unique in their own ways."
His tone was polite, but his gaze flicked over your shoulder to where your captain still stoodâglaring like he might march across the room and pull your hair.
Hard.
You nodded slightly, fighting to keep your own expression neutral.
Hoshina was popular. That much was obvious.
Kind.
Smart.
Attractive.
And so damn charming, it took all your willpower not to smile back when he grinned like that.
"I shouldâ" you started, gesturing back toward your table, but Hoshina spoke over you before you could leave.
"Actually," he said, looking thoughtful. "if you have a few minutes, I was hoping I could discuss something important with you."
He shot another glance at Genâstill glowering where he stoodâbefore turning back to you with a smile.
"Privately, of course."
You looked at Hoshina in silence, blinking twice as if silently questioning him.
Hoshina leaned forward to rest his chin in one hand, still smiling like an innocent angel.
"It won't take a moment of your time." he said lightly.
You tilted your head to the side, waiting for Hoshina to lead.
Hoshina stood, still wearing that innocent smile, and motioned for you to follow as he turned toward the hallway leading away from the mess hall.
"Itâs just this way. A quiet place where we can discuss confidential matters without interruptions. I know you appreciate discretion."
You followed. It was just a conversation.
That kind of thing happened all the time.
So why did you feel like you were walking into a trap?
They rounded a corner. The sounds of the feast faded away, replaced by the quiet hum of hall lights shining down from the ceiling.
You'd never been to this part of the HQ before, you realized. No one came here.
It was eerily quiet.
Hoshina kept walking like he did this every day.
"The perfect spot," he said cheerfully. "Privacy."
He stopped under one of the hall lights and turned to face you. The golden glow cast an almost angelic aura around his shoulders.
He was still smiling.
But there was something different in his eyes nowâsomething almost calculatingâas he leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice.
"Now, I have a simple question for you."
You looked at him in silence, waiting for him to continue.
His eyes twinkled.
"The rumors."
He said it casuallyâlike they were discussing the weatherâbut there was an edge beneath it. An undeniable hint of seriousness, caution, and curiosity.
"Which ones?" you asked, feigning ignorance despite already knowing exactly where this was going.
Hoshinaâs smile widened just a fraction.
"Oh, you know," he drawled. "The rumors about you and your Captain."
"What about them?"
Now he leaned in closerâlike he was sharing a dirty secret.
"Are they just rumors?" he mused.
"Or are they a bit more⊠grounded in reality?"
You couldnât help but look at him deadpan.
You
And
Naruâthat rat.
Hoshina laughed at your expression, raising his free hand in a placating gesture.
"Now, now," he said, eyes twinkling with that easy charm of his.
"Iâm not asking for details. I just have a question."
You raised one eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
He hesitatedâjust for a secondâbefore dropping the easygoing act and getting straight to the point.
"Are you dating?"
"No."
Hoshina studied you for a long moment.
Thenâslowlyâhe smiled.
"Good," he said simply, voice calm, almost casual.
"Because if you were? I wouldnât have said this."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. Not official. Not military.
Handwritten.
"Meet me tomorrow," he said, pressing it into your hand with quiet intent.
"Not as officers."
And just like thatâhe turned and walked back toward the mess hall, leaving you standing alone under the soft glow of the hallway lightâŠ
His words burning in your palm.
You stood there, dazed.
Overthinking.
Did he... mean it as an invitation to date?
Nah, Hoshina would neverâ
But that felt too honest...
And your last thought?
Narumi would have a stroke if he knew.
You tucked the paper into your pocket and zipped it up, making sure no one could see it.
.
.
When you stepped back into the mess hall, the noise slammed into you.
Shouting, laughter, clinking glasses. It was pure chaosâsoldiers eating, drinking, roughhousing.
But your eyes immediately found your tableâand him.
Narumi.
He was still sitting in the same spot, watching the hall like a hawk. But as soon as he saw you emerge from that hallway, every muscle in his body tensed.
The perfect picture of territorial fury.
His eye twitched as you sat down. His jaw clenched when you grabbed the beer.
He was furious.
Not in an obvious way. He remained perfectly stillâstill wearing that mask of cool disinterestâbut his eyesâŠ
They looked like he'd never wanted to murder someone more in his life.
"Where were you?" he demanded, voice deceptively calm.
"At the hallway." you said, opening your beer.
"For twenty minutes?" he said. "What the hell did Hoshina want?"
He was holding back everything not to sound pissed.
He took a breath.
"Did he say anything?"
"He proposed shared training between the Third and First Divisions." you said, taking a bigger sip of your beer than usual.
You lied, but the alcohol was meant to help cover any possible blush or goosebumps. It was supposed to serve as an excuse.
Oh hell no.
Genâs eye twitched again.
Shared training?
Training with the Third Division, where Hoshina could spend all day looking at you and trying to charm you?
Not happening.
He clenched his jaw, searching for a way to object without sounding completely insane.
"âŠWhat kind of training?"
"Morning routine."
That was worse than anything he couldâve imagined.
He could picture you in the morningâsweating, exhausted, vulnerable.
Hoshina could walk by, flash that charming smile, and say heâd be happy to help you stretch.
Hell. No.
His eyes darkened;
"Did you accept?"
"Ha? No. Youâre captain. Itâs not like I can change schedules without your say."
Gen exhaled.
Just slightly. Just enough to show the tension leaving his shoulders.
But he wasnât relieved. He was already planning something worse.
"Good," he muttered. "Because youâre not doing morning routine with the Third Division."
Thenâhe turned those sharp magenta eyes on you.
"Youâre doing it with me."
You almost choked on your beer.
He was serious.
He wasnât just trying to keep you from talking to Hoshina.
He was trying to keep you close.
Your cheeks burned, heat crawling up the back of your neck. You took another swig, willing your body to behave as you met his gaze directly.
"Since when am I doing anything with you?"
He leaned forward to match your gaze, his face only a few inches from yours.
His eyes were darkâalmost dangerous.
"Since now," he said, voice rough. "I donât trust Hoshina."
You opened your mouth to argueâbut he was faster.
"Besides," he added, leaning even closer. "Iâve seen how flexible you get when you stretch. â I promise Iâll make it fun."
.
.
.
You locked the door of your quarters, heart thudding just a little too hard.
The paper felt heavy in your handsâlike it carried secrets you werenât ready to know. Carefully, you unfolded it.
In neat, precise handwriting:
> Meet me at 7:00 AM tomorrow by the east training grounds.
> Not for training.
> For breakfast.
Underneath was a small doodle of a coffee cup with steam curling into a smile.
And thenâa final line:
> Bring an empty stomach⊠and no Captain watching.
Your breath caught.
It was definitely a date.
You quickly tucked the note into your desk drawer like it was evidence⊠and whispered to yourself:
"...Iâm going to die."
.
.
7:00 AM.
Youâd never been to the east training grounds before. The area was remoteâa patch of empty field surrounded by trees and distant mountains, as the sun rose like an orange ember on the horizon.
And there he was, waiting for you.
Hoshina stood under the morning light, dressed in simple black trousers and a loose white shirt. He could have stepped right out of a fashion catalogueâgorgeous and almost glowing as he waved.
"You made it."
You waved at him in greeting.
He gave you a smile that somehow seemed to light up the entire field.
"Good morning." you replied.
Then, as you approached, he added in a lower voice.
"And no Captain in sight. Impressive."
He chuckled, tilting his head toward the grass.
"Sit down. I've got something for you."
As you sit Hoshina sat down beside you on the grass, crossing his legs and gesturing toward a basket.
"I brought coffee and a few other things." he said, opening the lid with a soft creak.
The basket was filled with foodâstill-warm onigiri, some fresh fruit, even a few pastries.
"Didn't know what you'd like." he admitted. "So I went a bit overboard."
"You're too kind, vice-capt-"
"Call me Soshiro."
He handed you a thermos cupâstill warmâand poured dark, rich coffee into it without looking away from your eyes.
"Vice-Captain is too formal." he said, voice lower now.
Smoother.
"Especially when we're doing something like this."
You swallowedâtried to ignore the way your heart suddenly thundered against your ribs.
Calm down.
"Besides," he added finally, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a sip of coffee.
"Itâs harder to flirt during breakfast if you call me Vice-Captain."
"HosâSoshiro!"
He laughedâlow and warm, like morning sunlight spilling over stone.
"Got you to say it." he teased, eyes dancing.
"One rule for today: first names only. No ranks. No divisions."
He leaned back slightly on one hand, stretching his legs out in front of him like this was the most natural thing in the world.
"Just⊠two people."
Then he plucked an onigiri from the basket and held it out to you.
"Try this. I made them myself."
And for a secondâjust a fractionâhe looked almost shy.
Almost.
And did your heart skip a beat?
Yes.
You took the onigiri from his hand.
"I know itâs nothing fancy." he said, watching closely as you took a bite. "I like to keep things simple."
You smiled, even with your mouth full.
"Itâs good."
He let out a breath, like heâd been holding it in, and reached for a second onigiri.
"Iâve been up since 4:00 AM making breakfast," he said dryly.
"Glad it paid off."
"Donât do it again, Soshiro."
He looked at you for a long moment, almost opening his eyes, lips slightly parted.
Then he broke into a grin.
Damn him.
He leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the sunlight filtering through the trees.
"Iâd do it again," he said simply, voice barely above a whisper.
"Just to watch you eat."
Heat crept up your neck, but you said nothing.
This is flirting, you reminded yourself.
Heâs smooth.
Heâs charming.
He makes everyone feel special.
He glanced over at you, still grinning faintly.
"Youâre blushing."
"I have sensitive skin." you answered quickly.
Excuse.
He was like an angel.
And you couldnât help but think that whoever ended up as his wifeâŠ
would probably have a good life.
He laughedâsoftly, like he didnât believe you for a second.
"Sensitive skin, huh?" he mused. "Thatâs a good one."
Then he leaned in slightlyâjust enough to make your breath catch.
"Tell me another excuse," he said playfully.
"I want to hear how creative you can get."
Without saying a word, your hand reached into your pocket. You fumbled for a momentâthen handed him a small package of cookies.
It wasnât much.
But you wouldâve felt selfish if youâd brought nothing at all.
He looked down at the package for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he looked back up at you.
"(y/n)âŠ"
His voice was soft. Soft and quiet, like someone whispering a secret.
You waved a hand to brush it off.
"Just cookies from the corner store," you murmured.
"Iâm not good at baking."
He looked down at the cookies again, and his smile widened.
There was something strangely sincere in his expressionâlike this small thing meant more to him than money or jewels.
He looked up again, eyes twinkling.
"What happened to being cold and distant?"
"Iâ"
Beat.
"You said today we donât meet as vice-captains."
He grinnedâslow, sharp, victorious.
The wind rustled through the trees as he reached for the cookies, tearing open the package carefully.
"Youâre not good at baking," he said between bites. "But youâre very good at being stubborn."
Thenâeyes dancingâhe added;
"Which makes me wonderâhow many times do I have to ask you out before you admit you like me?"
"Donât get too ahead of yourself. Itâs just breakfast."
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Maybe, deep down, you really were a pathetic tsundere.
You started chewing your onigiri.
He watched you, completely unfazed.
"Just breakfast," he repeated, voice smooth. "Right."
Then he took another bite of his cookie and leaned backâlike a man who had all the time in the world.
"Tell me something," he said after a pause. "When Captain Narumi is being loud and obnoxious in meetings⊠do you ever think â âI wish heâd be quieterâ?"
You frowned slightly.
"âŠWhat does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything." he said simply. "I donât fight for attention. I donât need to shout to prove Iâm strong."
His eyes met yoursâsteady, calm.
"I just want you. And Iâm willing to wait until you realize itâs not just breakfast."
"Soshiro!" you couldnât help but protest.
No one has ever hit on you like this before.
At least, not that smoothly.
And your heart?
Conflicted.
Like today, youâd bitten off more than you could chew.
He didnât flinch. Just kept looking at youâsteady, calmâas if heâd already seen your panic and found it adorable.
"Youâre cute when youâre flustered." he said, voice low.
Thenâbecause of course he was relentlessâhe added;
"I know no oneâs ever done this before. Thatâs the point."
The morning sun caught the edge of his smile as he reached for another cookie.
"Iâm not like Captain Narumi. I wonât yell. I wonât drag you into fights or act jealous every time someone looks at you."
A pause.
"But if you asked me to⊠Iâd fight for you in silenceâand win without a word."
"âŠAnd Iâd win every time."
He said it softly, like a promise.
.
.
.
And later?
At 8:00 AM, you were training.
Narumi wasnât joking about the stretching.
When the pressure got too much, you couldnât help but hiss at him, blaming him like heâd committed war crimes.
Gen smirked, pushing your leg higher into the stretch, his hand firm on your knee.
"Stop whining," he said, his voice rough with amusement. "Youâre the one who skipped the warm-up."
Your face burnedâpartly from the stretch, partly from him being this close again after everything that happened this morning.
"Youâre doing this on purpose." you hissed through gritted teeth.
"Maybe," He leaned in slightly, breath warm near your ear.
"Maybe I just like hearing you complain."
Thenâlike a damn predatorâhe added:
"âŠDid Hoshina stretch you like this?"
Your mouth fell open.
In disbelief.
Offended.
Shocked.
All at once.
"Gen?!" you protested, embarrassed.
He didnât even flinchâjust kept pressing your leg higher, a smirk playing on his lips.
"What?" he said, voice low and mock-innocent.
"Just asking."
Then he leaned in closerâso close his breath ghosted over your ear.
"You were gone awfully long this morning. Came back allâŠflustered." His thumb brushed the inside of your knee, just once.
Your breath hitched.
And he noticed it.
His jaw tightenedâbut then?
He laughed. Sharp, bitter.
"Relax," he muttered, pulling back with a shove that was rougher than necessary. "I donât care who you meet."
But the way his fingers curled into fists?
Yeah.
The strongest man in Japan was lying. Through his teeth.
And strangely?
You started to feel guilt.
It was stupid.
You were single!
And you werenât his girlfriend, so whyâ
He let go and turned away, stretching his own leg.
But you could see itâthe tension straining across his shoulder blades, the rigid line of his jaw.
Your chest ached.
And then you said something stupid.
"It was just breakfastâŠ" you started, voice soft.
And Gen froze.
The second the words left your mouth, you knew it was a mistake.
He didnât turn.
Didnât speak.
Just stood thereâstill as stone, every muscle coiled tight.
You could see the tendons flexing beneath his skin like he was holding himself back.
When he finally spoke, his voice was lowâalmost feral.
"It was."
Thenâslowlyâhe looked over his shoulder.
His eyes were sharp, burning with barely-contained fury.
"Tell me you didnât kiss him."
âHaaa?!â you snapped, jabbing a finger at him like a mother scolding a child. "What do you take me for?!"
Narumi blinked.
And for the briefest momentâthe tiniest crack in that perfectly guarded expressionâ
Relief.
But he covered it fast.
Too fast.
Jaw clenched, eyes hard, he turned fully toward you now and crossed his arms.
"Then why?" he snapped. "Why did you come in today blushing, completely thrown off your rhythm?"
He didnât step closerâ
but the air between you crackled, alive and sharp like a live wire."Iâve never seen you like that before, (y/n)."
The silence stretched, taut like a bowstringâso thick with tension, it was hard to breathe.
Gen stared at youâeyes dark, jaw locked, his entire body coiled like he was fighting himself.
Like he was one wrong thought away from doing something reckless.
You didnât move.
He didnât move.
For a moment, neither of you even breathed.
Thenâbarely visibleâhis jaw clenched again.
Click.
Like a switch flippingâ
he lunged.
In one smooth motion, he had you pinnedâboth hands caged above your head, his body pressing you into the mat with a force that was more controlled than rough.
His breath was hot against your ear. Fast, shallow.
"Donât," he said, voice raw like it tore from somewhere deep.
"Donât let him touch you."
You could feel the tremor in his armsâthe way his chest rose and fell too fast.
He wasnât angry anymore. He was scared.
And your heart? Utterly confused.
You wanted to hug him. You wanted to comfort him. But⊠would that comfort be cruel?
It felt like you had to choose.
Between him or Hoshina.
His heartbeat thudded against your chestâwild, unrelenting, like it was trying to escape.
You could feel it. Him.
The way his breath hitched when you didnât push him away.
And Godâhe hated this.
Hated how weak he felt.
Hated that you could see it.
He dropped his voice lowâso low it was barely sound.
"Choose me."
It wasnât a command.
It was a plea. Raw and cracked open in the light of morning sweat and betrayal and something dangerously close to love.
Outsideâsomewhere far awayâa radio crackled with the dayâs first report call sign:
"All division leaders, assemble for briefing at 9:00 AM."
The world snapped back into focus.
But Narumi didnât move.
He just whispered:
"âŠPlease."
And you hated yourself for how silent you were.
You felt like a woman playing with two hearts.
Not even intentionallyâyour heart was just⊠confused.
You could feel how his breath hitched every time your chest rose to meet his.
The way his heartbeat skipped whenever your gaze met hisâlike it was trying to match your own.
He closed his eyes.
Like heâd never felt more vulnerable.
Like everythingâhis strength, his rank, his prideâdidn't matter.
He just whispered one more word:
"(y/n)..."
Your empathy screamed.
Your arms wrapped around his body, hugging him slowly, gentlyâas if trying to comfort him.
He frozeâhis entire body locking up like heâd been struck.
Then, slowly⊠so slowly⊠he melted into you.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard and uneven.
"(y/n)..." your name was a broken whisper on his lips.
"Iâm not like Hoshina. Sometimes I canât be honest with my feelings."
But thenâ
"âŠBut I care about you."
And ever since you became his vice-captain, your thoughts had been: Heâs weird. Too loud. Too dramatic. Too childish.
But with time?
His behavior sank into you.
Even his smallest, stupid acts became part of your routine.
And sometimes, when he caused a ruckus, you smiledâamused.
It was so him.
He still hid his face in the crook of your neckâand though his voice was muffled, it was clear.
"Youâre going to break my heart," he whispered. "Arenât you?"
"I didnât know that youâ" The words escaped your lips, quick and sudden.
You knew he was possessive.
But you never thought of it as romantic.
He always kept close the things he liked, never shared them, sometimes even acted selfishly.
You went to meet Hoshina because you are single.
Knowing Narumi would be madâbut not in that way.
His hair was messy from training, his cheeks faintly flushed, and his magenta eyes clouded with something raw and real. No smirk. No arrogance. Just you, lying there in front of the man who had spent months pretending he didnât care.
"I didnât know." you whispered again, softer this time.
He swallowed hard.
Then, quietly, he admitted;
"You were supposed to be temporary. Just some new vice-captain Iâd boss around until Hasegawa came back."
A dry laugh escaped him.
"But then⊠you stayed. You listened when I ranted about Kaiju 9 strategy at 3 AM."
"You bought me ramen after paychecks vanished into Amazon."
"You sat through my stupid gaming streams instead of walking out like everyone else."
His voice dropped lower.
"And you never treated me like a perfect hero."
"Just⊠me."
Your chest tightened.
Because now you understoodâit wasn't jealousy that made him snap today.
It was fear. The quiet terror of being replaced by someone better;
polished, presentable Hoshina...
While Narumi just screamed during missions and left Gundam boxes everywhere.
And at his words? You didnât understand why, but your eyes filled with tears. You felt seen.
As his vice-captain, you carried the weight of not feeling enough.
You knew you could never be better than Hasegawa.
Still, you never complained. Never let yourself cry. And when you almost didâyou hid it too well.
But now?
That wasnât possible anymore.
And for a momentâhis breath stopped.
He didnât move. Didnât speak. Just watched, wide-eyed, as the first tear slipped free and rolled down your cheek.
"(y/n)âŠ"
You tried to turn away, ashamedâbut he was over you.
"I appreciate you. You always watch my back, you try to support meâdo you think I havenât noticed?â he said fiercely, his forehead pressing gently against yours.
"Look at meâI donât care if Hoshina can cheer you up more or smiles like some damn princeâŠ"
"Iâll be the one who fights beside you when the world burns."
Gen felt the shift in youâthe way your breath caught, like you were forming a question too heavy to say.
He already knew.
And this time?
He answered before you could ask.
"If you leave⊠I lose more than a vice-captain. I will lose you. The one person who doesn't treat me like the 'Strongest'... or some ghost of Shinomiya's legacy."
"You laugh at my stupid memes."
"You steal my snacks and donât apologize."
"You stay when I'm unbearable."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"...And if that means I have to be selfish, possessive and pathetic just to keep youâ"
contents: female reader, reader is a Platoon Leader, ragebaiting.
In the beginning, you were professionalâquiet around Narumi, reserved, stiff. A new Platoon Leader, trying to hold your ground, do things by the book.
As the months went by, your relationship with him improved more than you expected. At first, he barely acknowledged youâtreating you no differently than the soldiers under your command, like you were just another face in the crowd.
But that changed. Slowly, he began to notice you, respond to you.
And anyone would say that people soften with time.
But not from his perspective.
Back when he was a stranger to you, you were politeâmaybe even shy. Careful. You avoided his gaze more often than not.
But now?
Heâd long lost count of how many times you called him an idiotâor, your personal favourite; "You are stupid."
Now, he could stand next to you in silence, just breathing, and it wouldnât feel strange.
And when no one was looking?
Youâd shove him out of your space just because.
You could stare at him, shamelessly.
And with a straight face, tell him his clothes looked like pajamas. Old, ugly.
At first, he found your constant blunt insults and teasing downright amusing. He knew you never meant any real harmâjust sharp words tossed with no ill intent. Every time you rolled your eyes at one of his stupid decisions, he caught himself chuckling quietly.
As he spent more time with you, he noticed his usual irritation toward others slowly fading.
Sure, he was still a smartass with a short fuseâhe always had been and probably always would be. A little rude, a little arrogant. But somehow, he had become⊠more tolerable.
He found himself actually willing to listen to your suggestions. Not just hear themâconsider them. Something heâd never do with the others.
And without even realizing it, he started looking out for you during missionsâkeeping an eye on you, making sure you stayed safe.
You were tough on him. Never praised himânot once. If he did something right, the best he got was a nod, maybe a sarcastic "Finally."
But on rare days off, you ended up spending time together.
Wellâ"hang out" was a strong word. It usually meant the two of you drifting through shops that sold figures and merch, trading quiet comments, side-eyes, and the occasional argument over which series deserved more shelf space.
Your hobbies aligned, oddly enough. But you never showed it in public. No one needed to know the sharp-tongued officer had opinions about collectible grades and limited-edition drops.
And here you wereâsquatting by the shelf, eyes locked onto something with quiet intensity.
"Oi, come here." you called out, voice casual, not even bothering to glance his way.
He was in the aisle next to you, half-distracted, sifting through rows of Gundam models and figures with that same bored-but-invested look he always wore.
When he heard your voice, he didnât rush. Just let out a quiet sigh through his nose and walked over, slow and unbothered.
He stopped beside you, towering just a little in that lazy way of his, and glanced down.
You were still squatting, still staring at something like it held national importance.
"JoJo," you said proudly, a flicker lighting up in your eyes. Your tone shiftedâsubtle, but noticeable. That quiet kind of excitement that rarely made it to the surface. "I didnât see that last time~ Probably new~"
He looked down at what you were pointing atâsome limited-edition Jotaro figure boxed in pristine condition, overly dramatic pose and all. Typical.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Of course you'd spot that from across the damn store." he muttered.
But the way your eyes lit up?
Yeah. He didnât mind being dragged over.
"You're still into JoJo?" he teased, arms crossing lazily.
You didnât even bother looking at him. Just let out a quiet "hmph" like youâd already expected the jab.
He knew. Of course he knew. You were secretly an otaku, through and throughâcarefully hidden behind the sharp uniform and sharper tongue. No one else had a clue. Just him.
"Don't insult my king Araki." you shot back instantly âlike you'd just defended the honor of a nation.
He couldnât help the smirk that pulled at his lips.
"I never understood your obsession with JoJo," he said, deliberately casual, eyes scanning the figure again with mock disinterest. "It's not even that great."
"Well then stick to those isekai harems," you scoffed, standing up with a huff, arms crossed. "More good content for me~"
He gasped theatrically, putting a hand over his chest like you'd just stabbed him.
"How dare you," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "Iâll have you know, those isekai mangas are masterpieces."
And after that last sentence, you knew exactly what he was doing.
Ragebait.
And oh boy, you were going to play along.
"I love Solo Leveling for the deep lore and well-written characters." you said, straight-faced, lips curling into a smirk as you locked eyes with him.
He barked a short laugh, delighted.
"Oh, really?" he replied, already matching your energy. "Blue Lock isnât cringy. Itâs the best sports anime. Peak writing. Masterpiece."
"One Piece is mid," you said, voice laced with mock seriousness. "You literally have to watch thirty episodes for the plot to move a millimeter."
"Unbelievable." he muttered, then shot back with a grin.
"Bleach is overrated. Half the anime is fillerâand not even the good kind."
You slowly raised a finger and pointed it straight at him, eyes wide with mock betrayal.
"Back off from Bleach!" you snapped, voice full of indignation, your expression was pure disbelief, like heâd just insulted your childhood, your honor.
He held your gaze, lips twitchingâthen raised both hands in mock surrender.
"Alright, alright. Calm down, Captain Kuchiki." he said with a grin.
"Shinji is way better captain." you mumbled under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
His laughter cut short.
Slowly, he turned to look at you like youâd just kicked his dog.
"You did not just say that." he said, scandalized, eyes narrowing.
You shrugged, that infuriating little smirk tugging at your lips.
"Iâm just saying. Vibes. He has âem."
His mouth openedâclosedâopened again. Offended. Betrayed. Personally wounded.
"You know what?" he said, stepping back a little, hand raised in mock distance. "Enjoy your JoJo shrine. Iâm done."
.
.
Eventually, you both left the building behind, stepping out onto the sidewalk.
The city buzzed around you, but for a moment, it felt quieterâjust the two of you walking side by side.
You were about to say something when suddenly, a soft weight pressed against your back. Before you could react, somethingâor someoneâhugged you from behind.
Taken completely off guard, you froze.
Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder and down.
There, clinging to you like a little lifeline, was a small figureâa kid.
Gen was caught off guard, standing frozen for a momentâcompletely unprepared for this sudden display.
Neither of you said a word at first, the city noise fading into the background as the unexpected moment settled between you.
"Mommy..." the little girl mumbled quietly, burying her face into your clothes.
You sighed, a hint of exasperation slipping through, but your voice softened just enoughânot wanting to scare off the child.
"Donât say things like that to strangers," you said gently, though with a touch of warning. "Iâd be disappointed in your motherâs place."
It felt like a burden.
Narumi watched silently, sensing the shift, unsure whether to step in or just let you handle it.
The girl looked up at you with wide, innocent eyesâdistress clear in their gaze.
"But I canât find my mom..." she whispered, her bottom lip trembling as if tears were about to spill.
Gen felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for the child. He glanced your way, catching concern flickering across your face.
You crouched down slightly, trying to meet the girlâs gaze without overwhelming her.
"Where did you see your mom last time?" you asked gently, voice softer than before.
The girl sniffled, still clinging tightly to you.
"Over thereâŠ" she whispered, pointing toward a store across the street.
Gen raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze toward the shop she indicated.
"Fine, weâre going to go there." you said.
Girl hesitated for a moment before reluctantly loosening her grip and stepping closer, ready to follow.
Gen moved beside you, his eyes on the store across the street, ready to back you up if needed.
As you approached the store, a few people moved in and outâshoppers drifting between aisles, some pausing to peer through the windows. The girl grew quieter, her grip tightening on your side as uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
She clung to you a little closer as you stepped inside.
Gen followed silently behind, his gaze sharp and alert as he scanned the store.
As you wandered through the aisles, the girlâs grip on your leg tightened. Suddenly, she tugged at your shirt, her small finger pointing excitedly down the aisle.
"There! Thatâs my mommy!" she exclaimed, voice bright with hope.
You followed her gaze, and sure enoughâa woman stood a few feet away, absorbed in browsing a shelf.
Her head snapped up, eyes locking onto the girl and you. Relief flooded her expression as she quickly hurried over.
"There you are!" the woman exclaimed, rushing over and immediately pulling her daughter into her arms; "I turned away for one moment and you were gone! Donât just run off like that without asking!" her voice trembled slightlyârelief wrapped in worry.
The girl looked up at her, sheepish and small. "Sorry, mommyâŠ" she mumbled, clutching her motherâs shirt.
Gen stood a few steps back, hands in his pockets, quietly watching the reunion. He said nothing, just observedâeyes calm, thoughtful.
.
.
As you stepped out of the store, the cool air hitting your face, not a single word passed between you and Gen.
The silence hung strangelyâoff, in a way you couldnât quite place. Not the usual comfortable quiet you shared during walks.
This one felt⊠loaded.
You didnât glance at him, but you could feel itâthat faint shift in his presence. The way his steps slowed just slightly. The way he kept his hands in his pockets a little longer than usual.
He was thinking about something. That much you could tell.
But what exactly, you couldnât lay a finger on.
And for once⊠you didnât press.
As the two of you continued on, Gen's mind lingered on a thought.
He had seen the way you were with the girl.
Soft and almost... caring.
He wondered what it would be like if you directed that softness at him.
He knew it was pointless to hope. You had made it clear, countless times, that you had no interest in anything beyond a professional relationship.
He shoved those thoughts aside as the base came into view.
The two of you reached the base, stepping into the familiar buzz of military routine. Soldiers passed by, officers barked orders, and the air carried that constant hum of discipline and urgency.
Everything was moving, loud and aliveâjust like always.
Gen walked beside you in silence for a beat longer⊠but something in him twitched. That quiet from earlierâit didnât sit well with him.
He glanced sideways at you, lips twitching. The urge to poke at you, to crack the silence in the most Narumi Gen way possible, crept up too strong to resist.
"Donât think saving a lost kid makes you a saint," he said dryly, voice low. "Still doesnât excuse your criminal taste in anime."
He leaned in slightly, just enough to whisper the words close to your earâlow, smug, intentional. The kind of tease meant to dig just a little deeper than usual.
But the second you tilted your head to look at himâsudden and closeâhe flinched. Just a little.
It gave him a slight jumpscare.
Because, as always, you had zero understanding of personal space.
"You seriously think like that?" you asked, your voice softer than he expected âyour eyes wide, unguarded for once.
Like a puppy.
A very dangerous, emotionally disarming puppy.
Gen blinked, caught off guard. His smirk faltered for half a second.
"âŠI mean," he muttered, suddenly avoiding eye contact. "Some of your taste is salvageable."
Your eyes drifted away from his, the playful light dimming just slightly.
Your disappointed expressionâquiet, genuine, just a touch too realâhit him square in the chest. It wasnât dramatic or exaggerated. Thatâs what made it worse.
A pang of guilt flickered in him. Heavy. Unexpected.
"HeyâŠ" he muttered, the usual sarcasm fading from his voice.
"Iâm just messing with youâŠ"
And the moment his words left his mouthâsoft, guilt-laced, unusually sincereâyour entire demeanor shifted.
Instantly.
A slow, smug smile curled at your lips. The kind that said checkmate without needing to move a single piece.
"And Iâm not," you said sweetly, chin tilting up and away from him like youâd just declared victory in a silent war. "Your taste is worse than mine."
Proud. Unapologetic.
Like a peacock mid-strut.
Gen blinked, staring at you in stunned silence for half a secondâprocessing the emotional whiplashâbefore scoffing under his breath.
.
.
.
Your phone buzzed, breaking the silence of the evening. You pick it up, seeing the name across the screen.
'Gen'
And then his single word message.
Come
Your reply was instant, fingers tapping without hesitation:
You didnât wait for his reply.
Gen was seething.
Youâd brushed him off. Him.
He wasnât used to being ignoredâespecially not by you.
His fingers hovered over the screen, ready to fire off a reply so sharp it might short out your phone. But then⊠he stopped.
A slow, wicked smile crept across his face.
Oh, so youâre not going to respond?
Fine.
You want space? Cute.
He had legs.
With a quiet, purposeful push of his chair, Gen stood. The soft creak of the worn leather backrest was the only sound in his office as he grabbed his jacket off the hook.
The walk to your room from HQ wasnât long.
And he suddenly had no problem making it.
He knew your room number. For reasons only he could explain.
Now, standing in front of your door, he paused.
Taking a deep breathâsteadying himselfâhe raised his fist and knocked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed slightly in the quiet hallway.
No rustle from inside. No footsteps approaching the door.
"Oi, freshman fell flat on his face in the cafeteria." Narumi called out loudly from behind the door.
Well, it was a lieâbut an effective one.
A slight commotion stirred inside your roomâshuffling footsteps approaching the door.
You opened it cautiously⊠and fell right into his bait.
"Seriously?" you asked, voice curious as you stepped out, eyes darting down the corridor to see if there was any actual scene causing a fuss.
His eyes flickered down, landing just a bit lower than usualânot out of any rude intention, but because something caught him completely off guard.
Pink?
That simple color confused his brain more than it should have.
And then he saw it.
Hello Kitty pants?
You.
Of all people.
During your hangouts, you were always decked out in dark, muted tonesâno pastels, no cute prints.
This? This was a whole different vibe.
Genâs smirk faltered for the briefest moment as he tried to process the contradiction staring back at him.
His eyes trailed back up, catching the sight of your loose green shirt.
Not because it was annoying, exactlyâbut because it was unexpected. And disarming.
That damn mix of tough and adorable was doing a number on him.
"What a pity that I wasnât there." you sighed.
As you began to close the door, his hand shot out, palm pressing firmly against it, halting the movement.
"Nah ah ahâ"
He teased, voice low and amused.
With a quick push, he eased the door open again and stepped inside your room, completely uninvited.
His smirk deepened as he looked you up and down, clearly enjoying this little power play.
You took a step backânot in a welcoming way, but more out of confusion.
That brief pause, the flicker of uncertainty crossing your face, made it clear you needed a second to figure out what to do next.
He stepped further into your room, seizing the moment of your hesitation.
With a soft click, he closed the door behind him.
He let his gaze roam over the room.
A small, almost amused smile tugged at his lips.
"Nice place you got here." he teased, his eyes flicking back to you before he eased down to sit at the edge of your bed, casual but with that unmistakable spark of mischief.
Heâd never admit it out loud, but your room was adorable as hell.
"Jesus, how many of those plushies do you have?" he teased, plucking a random one from your bed and turning it over in his hands, smirking.
You were suddenly at his side, faster than he expected.
Your standing posture hovered over his sitting one, eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion.
Your hands twitched reluctantly, caught between letting him hold your plushie or snatching it back immediately.
So, you were protective of them, huh.
He saw the battle behind your eyes, and it was adorable.
"Aw"
He cooed mockingly, lifting the plushie slightly higher, just out of reach;
"Someone doesnât like me holding their little plushies." he grinned up at you, smug and entertained, clearly thriving off your reaction.
Your brows furrowed just barelyâan expression Gen had never seen before. It wasnât anger or annoyance, but something softer, almost like childish vulnerability.
You stepped a little closer, arm extending tentatively to retrieve the plushie.
"Give it back." you said, your voice pleading, softer than usual.
You didnât even look at himâyour eyes fixed solely on the plushie in his hands.
The sight of you like thisâsoft, almost vulnerableâwas enough to drive a man insane.
You were pleading for your plushie, your voice dipping into a somewhat childish tone, your expression unlike anything heâd ever seen from you.
For a moment, he felt like he was witnessing something he wasnât supposed to.
He watched as you stretched your arm toward the plushie, sitting back slowly to increase the distance between you.
You couldnât lean forward too far without risking your balanceâand that flicker in his mind sparked a devilish idea.
Fall, huh?
But Gen knew you werenât foolish enough to just trip easily.
He had to be clever about this.
Maybe a well-timed grab of your shirt to pull you off balance⊠or perhaps an "accidental" move of his leg that would force you to stumble.
His eyes flicked down to your feet, carefully studying your stance.
He noticed how you subtly shifted your weight, straining to keep your balance as you reached for the plushie just beyond your grasp.
Perfect.
Without warning, his leg shot outâ"accidentally" catching yours and tripping you off balance.
You yelped in surprise as you lost your balance, tumbling forwardâright onto him.
Your bodies collided, and your eyes instinctively squeezed shut at the impact. Head rested just beside his, both of you pressed closely together in the sudden closeness.
The air between you shifted, thick with an unspoken tension.
"Gen!" you said sternly, annoyance sharp in your voice.
The sudden shift was strikingâa stark contrast to the softer, pleading tone from just seconds ago.
He looked up at you, eyes glinting with mischief, clearly amused by how quickly you switched gears.
"What? Not my fault youâve got the balance of a newborn giraffe." he replied playfully, arms wrapping around your waist.
His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying this rare moment where he had the upper hand.
"Hmph!" you muttered, the unmistakable sound of a sulk.
Your arms shifted, pushing gently against his chest as you tried to free yourself from his hold.
He couldnât help but enjoy the sightâyour pout, the way you struggled to break free.
Too cute.
"Uh uh uh." he teased, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you even closer, trapping you firmly between his legs.
He could swear you were practically seething, your voice cutting through the quiet room like a sharp blade.
"I hate you!"
His smirk stretched wider into a lazy, satisfied grin. This was too much fun.
He loved teasing you, especially when you got this flustered and fired up.
"No, you donât." he replied casually, his grip on your waist unyielding, keeping you firmly pinned.
His eyes drifted down just a moment, catching the way your shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin at your stomach.
Damn. Lately, it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his impulses in check around you.
You glared at him, voice sharp as you asked,
"Why did you come here?"
His smirk only widened, clearly enjoying how annoyed you sounded.
With a deliberate movement, he leaned back further, pulling you along until his back met the bed.
He adjusted his position, drawing you down to lay comfortably on top of himâstill trapped between his legs, pressed firmly against his chest.
"Canât I come visit my favorite person?" he teased, his voice low and playful.
A sudden thought crossed his mind.
The way Kikoru Shinomiya always gave him that solid side-eye whenever he was swarming over youâlike she was silently judging how he took his sweet time, acting like no one could take you away from him.
She knew. Everyone knew.
Except you.
Heâd never confessed, not once. But it was painfully obvious to everyone else how much you meant to him.
But just as he let those thoughts linger, they were abruptly interrupted by your writhingâfighting to break free from his hold.
Suddenly, he leaned forward, his breath warm against your ear.
"I love you." he whisperedâquiet, yet undeniably firm.
The unexpected words caught you completely off guard. Your struggling ceased, and your eyes went wide, heart pounding in your chest.
He could feel your body tense against his, a mix of surprise and something deeper.
His hold tightened slightly, hands resting firmly on your waist as he leaned in closer.
"I. Love. You." His voice remained low but serious, each word deliberate.
"No, you donât." you shot back without missing a beat.
Truly the queen of being delusional.
His jaw clenched at your response, irritation flaring inside him.
Heâd just bared his genuine feelings, and you brushed it off so casually.
"Then why do you think Iâm here right now, huh?" he demanded, locking eyes with you.
But your gaze slipped away, silence filling the space between you like a heavy weight.
He canât fucking believe it.
He watched as you avoided his eyes, and it only stoked his frustration.
That was it, wasnât it? You knew how he feltâand chose to ignore it.
His grip on your waist tightened, fingers pressing into your skin with more force.
"Look at me." he ordered, voice low but firm.
Still, you held your act, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Why? I remember your face pretty well."
Your heart betrayed you, pounding shamefully against his chestâeven as you kept your eyes fixed elsewhere.
Without warning, he lifted a hand and grabbed your chin, turning your head sharply to face him.
"Look. At. Me."
At last, your eyes met hisâyour dilated pupils locking with his intense magenta ones.
Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, betraying the cool facade youâd tried to hold.
Despite his irritation, he couldnât tear his gaze away from you.
The way your color deepened, the rapid beat of your heartâdamn it, you were going to be the death of him.
His grip on your chin softened, but he didnât let go.
Instead, he brushed his thumb gently over your bottom lip.
He didnât need to hear your confession aloudâhe already knew.
But damn, he craved it. He wanted to hear it from you.
"I love you too." you said.
Those three wordsâfinally spokenâsent a shockwave through the room.
His heart leapt in his chest, emotions crashing over him like a tidal wave.
A sly smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned in closer, losing every ounce of restraint he had left.
The sight of youâcheeks flushed, pupils dilatedâwas driving him utterly insane.
His lips brushed softly against the corner of your mouth, sending sparks trailing down your spine.
Pulling back just enough, he whispered, breath warm against your skin;
"Say it again."
Your lips parted to obey, but before you could speak, his mouth claimed yours in a sudden, fierce kiss.
No hesitation on his part, he suddenly and urgently captured your lips with his, effectively silencing any words that might've escaped you.
He wasted no time, hungrily claiming your lips with his own, his hand on your chin moving to the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss.
contents: female reader, reader is a Platoon Leader of First Division, Hoshina dancing with you, Narumi is being jealous, pushy, reader realized her true feelings, probably love triangle
The First Division had always been known for its overwhelming strength â and for its unforgiving discipline.
As Platoon Leader, you'd felt that weight yourself: relentless training, strict routines, zero tolerance for weakness.
But now, after taking down one of the strongest Honju, every division had gathered for a rare celebration.
A joint feast.
Which, of course, meant alcohol.
And that was exactly what Narumi Gen couldnât stand.
He didnât just dislike it â he loathed it.
The taste, the smell, the way people lost control over themselves.
With his infamously low tolerance, even a single drink hit too hard.
To him, it wasnât fun. It was a waste of time.
So while the others laughed, shouted, and raised their glasses, Narumi stood off to the side â arms crossed, eyes half-lidded in quiet disapproval.
He lazily began to scan the crowd with those sharp magenta eyes, looking for you.
A flicker of motion caught his attention â a glimpse of your dress slipping between bodies, barely visible through the shifting crowd.
His eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.
You were... dancing?
With someone?
Dancing?
He scoffed at the thought, pushing off the wall with a lazy shrug to get a better look.
For a moment, he couldn't quite believe how strange it felt â seeing you like this.
Out of uniform. Relaxed. Laughing.
His brow twitched, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
Without even realizing it, he stepped forward â weaving through the crowd, eyes fixed on you â trying to catch a clearer glimpse of the person you were with.
You were doing it with Hoshina.
Narumiâs jaw tightened ever so slightly.
Hoshina's hand rested on your lower back â steady, practiced â as he guided you through the movements with infuriating ease.
A waltz? Seriously?
Narumi clicked his tongue quietly and kept moving through the crowd, eyes locked on the two of you.
He told himself it was curiosity.
Thatâs all.
But he already knew that was a lie.
Most of the time, you did a good job â well, mostly.
Every now and then, your eyes flicked down to Hoshinaâs foot, making sure you wouldnât accidentally stomp on it.
But even then, you had your own charm, a natural rhythm that made the occasional misstep forgivable.
Hoshina guided you perfectly through every move, his hand steady and confident on your back.
"You just need to look at your partnerâs eyes," he said with a gentle smile. "Eventually, youâll learn it all by muscle memory."
Narumi stood off to the side, arms crossed, scowling as the seconds ticked by.
Watching you and Hoshina dance, his irritation grew with every graceful step, every shared smile.
Why the hell are you even dancing with him?
The question nagged at him, sharp and persistent.
What bothered him most wasnât just that you danced with his rival.
It was how natural you looked together.
That, more than anything, stung.
The song finally came to an end, and Hoshina gently pulled away from you.
Gen watched closely as you both stopped dancing, his sharp eyes following every move.
Hoshinaâs gaze met yours, his expression curious â as if silently asking something.
Gen could feel his irritation rising by the second.
The party itself was already getting on his nerves, but seeing you dance with Hoshina was like pouring gasoline on the fire.
HmphâŠ
Genâs eyes narrowed as he watched Hoshina lean in slightly, saying something too quiet for him to hear.
But whatever it was, you only laughed â and waved it off with a dismissive flick of your hand.
He didnât know what Hoshina had asked â and frankly, he didnât care.
You said no. That was enough.
Before he could linger on the thought too long, Hoshina gave you one last grin and turned to vanish into the crowd.
Gen didnât wait.
He approached in his usual quiet way, slipping through the space Hoshina had left behind.
His hand came to rest on your shoulder â steady, grounded â as he leaned in, voice low and unreadable.
"Having fun?"
He tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone.
Tried.
But he wasnât exactly known for subtlety.
Your skin flinched slightly at the unexpected touch. In a room full of voices, music, and the clinking of glasses, it wasnât hard to be startled â even if it wasnât intentional.
The noise, the crowd, the warmth of too many bodies moving too close⊠it all made his sudden presence feel sharper than it was.
He leaned in a little closer, voice low â not just to be heard, but to stay between the two of you.
"Didn't expect to see you dancing with Hoshina." he muttered.
"He asked me." You offered a small shrug, your voice calm, just stating the facts.
A lady should not refuse a gentlemanâs invitation to dance.
He clicked his tongue sharply at your calm reply, fully aware you were only being polite with Hoshina.
"You didnât have to say yes." he muttered, his irritation slipping through despite his effort to sound casual.
"I had to," you replied. "Thatâs just social etiquette."
Gen couldnât help but roll his eyes at your calm reply.
Social etiquette, huh.
"Iâm sure he wouldâve understood if youâd said âNo.â" he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest, he fixed his gaze on you.
I didnât see any reason to decline Hoshinaâs offer," you added. "Besides, I only say no to drunk men."
He let out a short scoff, shaking his head slightly.
"Of course you would." he muttered under his breath.
A brief silence hung between you before he spoke again, voice low and deliberate.
"And what if I had asked you to dance?"
He raised an eyebrow, watching your reaction closely.
"You can dance?" you asked.
You knew exactly how lazy he could be. Gen was an expert â but mostly in games and killing kaijuu.
Youâd never seen him actually join in at parties like this.
He usually just stood on the sidelines, watching everything with that same lazy expression, glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until he could retreat to his room.
He rolled his eyes at your question, somewhat offended by it.
"Of course I can," he retorted, a slight hint of annoyance in his voice, "Better than Hoshina."
He knew he wasnât exactly the picture of elegance on the dance floor, but he was confident he could outclass at least him.
His gaze stayed locked on yours, a stubborn glint flickering in his eyes â like a silent dare.
"I might not look like it, but Iâm great at dancing." he insisted, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.
"I don't want to dance with you now-"
Gen bristled at your response, his stubbornness flaring up even more at your rejection.
Annoyance and frustration crept into his voice as he stepped closer. "Why not?!" he snapped, eyes sharp.
"Is it because you prefer Hoshina over me?"
Your eyes locked with his intense magenta ones, surprise flickering across your face at hearing those words from him.
His gaze locked onto yours, and for a split second, he regretted blurting out those words. He knew it sounded like something out of a cheap k-drama script, but he couldn't help the irritation and insecurity brewing inside of him.
"Well?" He pressed on, still standing close to you. "Am I that repulsive to you?"
"Narumi..." you said softly, your gaze meeting his with a small, concerned frown.
You would never want him to feel that way.
"Answer the question." he said, his voice firm but softer nowâstill demanding, yet with a flicker of vulnerability beneath the surface.
You softened your gaze, eyes flickering down for a moment. "You arenât repulsive."
His gaze softened slightly at your words, a flicker of relief passing through him. But just as quickly, his stubbornness reared its head again.
"Then why wonât you dance with me?" he pressed, his voice a tangled mix of irritation and insecurity.
Despite your reassurance, he couldnât shake the uneasy feeling that you preferred Hoshina over him.
"My shoes have started giving me blisters." you said, looking down at them, hinting they were rubbing your heels.
Gen rolled his eyes at your weak excuse.
Without a word, he crouched down and grabbed your ankle, pulling your foot toward him with no hesitation.
You stumbled slightly, caught off guard by his sudden movement, and instinctively rested your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.
"I donât care if weâre in the middle of the damn dance floor." he muttered, his voice low and steady, completely unfazed by the curious glances from around the room.
His fingers worked quickly, undoing the strap of your shoe and exposing your heel. His sharp eyes inspected the skin with clinical precision. For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of concern behind his usual cold gaze, but it vanished as fast as it came.
"If youâre gonna lie, at least do it better." he said dryly, his tone rough but not unkind.
Then, he looked up and caught sight of your face.
Your cheeks were flushedâa soft, shy pinkâand your brows were slightly furrowed, an expression unfamiliar to him. You looked embarrassed, something Gen hadnât seen from you before.
"Narumi." you hissed, embarrassed, trying to free your foot.
He let out an amused chuckle, resisting your attempts to free your foot from his grasp. Your flustered state seemed to amuse him, and he was clearly enjoying teasing you a bit too much.
"What's the rush?" he teased, a smug grin spreading across his face as he held your foot firmly in place.
"In factâŠ" He paused, the smirk on his face growing even wider.
"You should be able to dance with me."
He saw the way you hesitated, the brief flicker of indecision in your eyes.
A soft chuckle escaped him, his grip on your foot steady and unyielding.
"You know I wonât let go of your foot until you agree to dance with me." he said with a smirk.
"So, what will it be? Are you going to say âyesâ and dance with me, or keep protesting?"
"You're mean!" you responded.
He couldnât help the smug grin that spread across his face at your response.
"Iâm mean?" he echoed, feigning innocence.
"Iâm just trying to get you to dance with me. Is that so cruel?" He kept holding onto your foot, his grip firm and unyielding.
"Fine, Iâll dance with you!" you snapped, flustered and defeated.
Jackpot.
He couldnât help the wave of triumph that washed over him the moment you gave in. A victorious smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth â subtle, but unmistakable.
"Good." he said, finally releasing your foot.
He stood up with casual ease, his smug smile never once faltering.
"Then letâs dance."
He took your hand without a word, his grip firm but not forceful, and led you away from where you'd been standing â weaving between the other couples with calculated ease.
He didnât ask if you were ready. He didnât need to.
Youâd already said yes â and for him, that was enough.
Finding a space near the edge of the floor, where the music still reached but the crowd thinned just slightly, he stopped. The low lighting caught the edge of his sharp profile, but his attention was only on you.
Without hesitation, he placed one hand at your waist and pulled you in â not roughly, but with intent. The closeness left little room for second thoughts.
His other hand still held yours, and with a shift of his weight, he began to lead.
Deliberate steps. Smooth. Confident. The kind of rhythm that didnât beg for attention, but earned it.
You were aware of the eyes on you both â whispers just out of earshot.
But Gen? He didnât even glance around.
His focus never wavered.
Youâd agreed to dance with him â and right now, that was all that mattered.
Your heart gave a sudden, sharp thud against your ribs, like it was trying to catch up to the moment.
He guided you through the motions with ease, each step measured, unhurried. You barely had to think â his hand at your waist, the subtle pressure of his palm against yours, it was enough.
Genâs gaze flicked down for the briefest second â not at your feet, but at your face. Watching. Calculating.
"Youâre quiet." he said at last, voice low enough that only you could hear it.
"Regretting it already?"
It wasnât an accusation â more like a challenge, laced with that faint, ever-present sarcasm that made it impossible to tell whether he was teasing or testing you.
His hand shifted slightly at your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. Not enough to make a scene.
But just enough for you to notice.
You thought you were going to die.
Fuck. What was that?!
Whyâwhy did you find that hot?! Why him?!
You were almost certain your brain had short-circuited.
Coherent thoughts? Gone. Completely gone.
I should be thinking about etiquette⊠posture⊠breathingâ
Instead, you were genuinely considering faking a bathroom emergency just to escape the intensity of it all.
Your body tensed slightly â barely, but it was there. A flicker of resistance.
Of course, he noticed.
You didnât even have to look up to know his eyes were on you. Watching. Reading.
He didnât loosen his grip. Didnât pull away.
Instead, he leaned in â just a little â voice low, brushing your ear.
"You always freeze when youâre flustered."
A simple observation. Said like he was commenting on the weather.
He didnât smirk. He didnât gloat. He just held your gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Like he was filing that reaction away for later.
And then â like nothing had happened â he turned you effortlessly into the next step of the dance, guiding you as if he hadnât just unraveled your entire nervous system with one sentence.
You let him lead.
But at that point, it was autopilot.
You couldâve sworn your soul left your body.
The warmth spread fast â your face, your neck, your chest.
Goosebumps prickled along your arms, but your expression remained strangely still. Distant.
His words had pushed something in you â a little too far, a little too fast.
Whether heâd meant to or not didnât matter.
The effect was the same.
You kept moving, one step after another, eyes flicking past him without focus. Like you were there, but not fully present.
Gen noticed. Of course he did.
You werenât talking. You werenât looking at him.
He didnât say anything right away. Just adjusted the space between you by a fraction â subtle, but deliberate. His hand at your waist eased slightly, like he was giving you a breath without making a scene.
His steps slowed just a little â not enough to break rhythm, but enough to shift the tempo. Less pressure. Less expectation.
Enough for you to catch up.
A few seconds passed.
His eyes searched yours â not demanding anything, just... watching.
"You back?" he asked quietly, voice low and neutral â not teasing this time. Just checking.
Your eyes met his.
Almost automatically â drawn in by the weight of his stare.
Those sharp, unmistakable magenta eyes.
You blinked once. Then again.
Your gaze was still slightly unfocused â but then, slowly, that familiar spark returned. The one he was used to seeing when you had your guard up.
"A..."
The soft sound escaped before you could catch it.
And now, you were suddenly, acutely aware of everything.
His hand on your waist.
The space between you.
The fact that he hadnât looked away once.
"Should I be offended, or was the music just that boring?" The corner of his mouth lifted â barely.
"No, I was justâ" You cut yourself off, realizing exactly where this was heading.
He was teasing you, as usual.
With a small, exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes.
"Keep it up, Narumi," you muttered. "And I might just start thinking you enjoy this."
He didnât miss a beat.
"Who says I donât?"
The words were quiet, almost casual â but his tone carried just enough weight to make your stomach flip.
And he didnât elaborate.
He just kept dancing. Like he hadnât said anything at all.
But just before the final note struck â
His hand slid a little firmer to your back, guiding you into a gentle dip.
Nothing dramatic.
No sweeping motion or exaggerated flourish.
Just a controlled, effortless lean â enough to feel the shift in gravity, enough for your breath to catch.
And when your eyes met his, you realized:
He wasnât smiling.
He wasnât teasing.
He was watching.
Close. Focused.
Then, as the last note faded into silence, he pulled you back up.
Smooth. Unrushed. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And thenâ
A voice. Far too casual.
"Well, well. I look away for one minuteâ"
You nearly jumped.
Your head snapped toward the sound.
Hoshina stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, expression perfectly neutral.
Gen didnât even flinch.
"Donât you have somewhere to be?" he asked flatly, not bothering to hide the annoyance.
Hoshina shrugged, smiling just enough to make it suspicious.
"Sure. I was just passing by. Thought Iâd check if I should be jealous, or concerned."
He gave you a long, pointed once-over. Then glanced at Gen.
"Carry on," he said lightly, turning on his heel with a little wave. "Pretend I was never here."
And just like that â he vanished into the crowd.
contents: female reader, reader works at Sakamoto's store
Itâs been a good few months since Nagumo started showing up at Sakamotoâs corner store.
Always â without fail â during your shift, and always when youâre alone behind the counter.
He doesnât buy much. Just hangs around the instant noodles, pretending to read labels, tossing out dumb questions like,
"Which oneâs your favorite?" or "Is spicy miso actually spicy?"
You answer like you always do â barely looking up, voice flat, disinterested.
But he keeps coming back.
Like clockwork.
One evening, you got ready to close the store. You turned off all the lights inside, checked the cash register, and finally stepped outside.
A chill hit you from the cooler air.
You turned toward the door to lock it â your back facing the quiet street behind you.
Nagumoâs gaze shot up the moment he saw you step outside. He watched quietly as you locked the door, his thoughts tangled somewhere deep inside.
Without a second thought, he pushed off the wall and started walking toward you, his footsteps nearly silent in the evening stillness.
As you double-checked the door's lock, Nagumo approached from behind, his footsteps light and soundless. He watched as you tucked the keys into your bag, his gaze fixed on your every movement. He was just a few feet away from you, but he purposefully remained silent, wanting to see how you would react to his proximity.
He halted his steps as he reached a close proximity. He was close enough to touch you, if he extended his hand. But he didn't. He just stood there, watching you, his eyes locked onto your form. He couldn't help but wonder if you would notice his presence, or if you were completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing just behind you.
You turned around to head home, but as your eyes landed on someoneâs chest, so close in front of you, you yelped and stepped back â only to bang the back of your head against the door.
Because Nagumo was tall, you hadnât recognized him right away.
He couldn't help but chuckle at your surprised reaction.
"Careful there," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "I didn't mean to spook you."
"You meant it, you asshole!" you snapped, rubbing the back of your head.
He couldn't help but laugh softly at your choice of words and your expression. You looked quite adorable, flustered and irritated at the same time.
"Maybe a bit," he admitted, his smirk widening. "But I couldn't help myself, you looked so focused, completely oblivious to your surroundings."
"And...I thought it's good idea walk you home. It's late."
"For you to know my address? Pfft, nice try."
He raised his eyebrows at your comment, amused by your suspicion. He leaned a little closer, invading your personal space, his eyes gleaming with a hint of challenge.
"You think I wouldn't find a way to know where you live if I wanted to?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.
"You're awful." you said and rewarded him with deadpanned look.
"Awful? I prefer the term 'resourceful'," he responded, that smirk still in place. "And determined."
"Determined about what?" you asked looking at him with hint of disbelief. Seriously, that man is weird.
"Determined to get to know you better." he said simply, his gaze never leaving yours.
"Fine, then walk me home. But dont get used to it."
He chuckled softly at your reluctant acceptance. He gestured for you to start walking and fell into step beside you. With a smirk, he said;
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Nagumo couldn't help but notice your judging look, but he merely smirked in response, unbothered by it. He kept pace with you, his gaze flickering towards you occasionally. He found your stubbornness cute; you were clearly trying to put up walls, but he was determined to tear them down, even just a little bit.
As you two walked side by side through the dimly lit sidewalk, Nagumo's gaze flicked towards you, taking in your every detail. He studied your featuresâthe way you held yourself, the tilt of your head, the subtle shifts in your expression. He could sense your guarded nature, your reluctance to let anyone get too close. But instead of deterring him, it only fueled his desire to crack through that hardened exterior.
"Stop staring." you said, noticing his gaze but deliberately not looking at him.
.
.
.
Months had passed since that first night when Nagumo had insisted on walking you home. Over time, that walk had slowly turned into a habit, a routine of sorts. Despite your initial resistance, you had grown somewhat used to his presence. And secretly, a part of you was grateful for the safety he provided, even if you'd never admit it out loud. You found yourself offering him the occasional free instant noodles during your shift at Sakamoto's store, and you couldn't help but appreciate the way he often effortlessly scared off any weird characters who dared to bother you.
Sometimes, when he finished walking you home, you even invited him inside. On colder days, youâd tell him to stay a little to warm up; when it was hot outside, youâd offer ice cream.
As his visits became more frequent, Nagumo couldn't help but notice a small but significant gesture: the appearance of slippers in the entryway of your home. They were in his size, carefully placed near the door, ready for him to slip on as he stepped inside. It was a subtle but unmistakable indication that he was welcomed as a regular presence in your personal space. And the fact that you rarely wore slippers yourself spoke volumes about the thought you put into preparing those slippers specifically for him, it made him slightly smile.
Every time someone asked him about his relationship with you, Nagumo would simply respond with a nonchalant shrug and a smirk. "We're just friends." he'd say, his tone casual and unbothered. But the truth was, he secretly hoped for more.
.
.
.
And once again, he found himself relaxing on your couch while you moved around the house, mumbling to yourself under your breath.
"You didnât even tell me my eyeliner was smudged." you said in disbelief, rummaging for your makeup remover.
He watched you with amusement as you muttered to yourself, searching for makeup remover. His gaze drifted to your smudged eyeliner, and a corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile.
"It isn't that noticeable." he said nonchalantly, trying to downplay the obvious makeup smudge on your face.
You shot him a side-eye as soon as you sat down at the chair, adjusting the mirror on the table. Then you soaked a cotton pad with makeup remover and started wiping off your eyeliner.
"So youâre blind, huh." you muttered, focusing on one eye, as the liner refused to come off.
Yoichi chuckled at your quick glare but decided to humor you anyway. Rising from the couch, he approached you, a smirk on his face the entire time. He stopped next to you, his gaze flickering to the cotton pad in your hand and the smudged eyeliner on your face.
"Fine, fine. Let me see..." he leaned in a bit closer, studying your face intently. His smirk widened as he feigned being focused on your makeup.
Using just your peripheral vision, you tossed the cotton pad with perfect aim â hitting him right between the eyes.
He was momentarily taken aback as the cotton pad landed directly between his eyes, his smirk quickly replaced with a look of surprise.
"Ow! What the-" he rubbed his skin with one hand, his eyes narrowing at you. "You did that on purpose!"
"No, it got wings." you said and couldn't help but smirk.
"Yeah, right. You just happen to have the best aim in the world, huh?" he replied, still rubbing where the cotton pad had hit him.
"Ahahaha~ donât be so dramatic. Want a little kiss?" you cooed, teasing him the way mothers do with their kids.
"Youâre teasing me again." he said, his voice hovering between a complaint and a laugh. He crossed his arms and gave you a look, eyes narrowing slightly.
"âŠAnd no, I donât need a âkiss betterâ."
"Then good. You aren't the youngest-"
Before you could finish your sentence, he interrupted you by suddenly stepping closer and gently grabbing your chin, tilting your face up towards him. His gaze was playful yet intense, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"But I am the most handsome." he said, his voice low and teasing, while still holding your chin between his fingers.
Your eyes widened slightly â you hadnât expected that.
But they quickly narrowed again as you gave him a deadpan stare.
He loved how you reacted to his playful flirting, the way your eyes would narrow and your lips would purse in mock annoyance.
"Admit it, I am handsome, right?" he asked, his hand still gently grasping your chin, his thumb slightly grazing over your bottom lip. His voice was still low and teasing, his eyes fixed on your face, waiting for your response.
You bit his thumb â not too hard, but enough to make a point â then pulled back just enough to speak;
"Off with those filthy hands." you said in a dismissive tone.
But you barely finished the words before you felt him slip his thumb right back in.
He couldn't help but smirk at your attempt to dismiss him, his smirk only growing wider as he felt you bite his thumb. He let out a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Filthy, you say? That's a little harsh."
His smirk widened as he gently pushed his thumb further into your mouth, his gaze never leaving your face. He enjoyed seeing how flustered you were getting, even though you were trying so hard to act distant and uninterested.
Your eyes widened, and your hand instinctively dropped the cotton pad, still stained with black smudges.
You reached out, grabbing his arm in an attempt to stop him.
Yoichi noticed your hand reaching for his arm, and his smirk widened even further in response. He found your reaction incredibly adorable. However, instead of withdrawing his hand, he only pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth, teasing you further. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low and playful tone.
"Ah, ah, ah." he said, gently wagging his finger in a 'no-no' gesture. "No running away now."
He couldnât help himself and leaned in closer, slowly withdrawing his thumb â but a better idea was already forming in his mind.
Without giving you a chance to react, he suddenly tilted your face up towards his and captured your lips with his own. He didn't hesitate, his tongue pushing past your lips, his kiss rough and demanding. He had been wanting to do this for so long, to taste you, to feel you. He was done playing games.
He deepened the kiss, his hand gripping your chin tightly,his kiss getting rougher, more needy, as his tongue explored your mouth.
He could feel your gasp of surprise against his lips, and it only fueled his desire for more. He pushed you back gently against the chair, trapping you between his body and the seat. His fingers continued tracing your collarbone, as he deepened the kiss even more, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that made your head spin.
Yoichi pulled back slightly and said;
"Can I court you, (y/n)-chan?~"
You were taken aback by the question, your mind still a bit hazy from the intensity of his kiss. You looked at him with wide eyes, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
"Courting?" you managed to say, your voice a bit breathless.
He nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he observed your reaction. His hand moved from your chin to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost tender.
"Yes, courting. A proper one."
You calmed yourself, but the blush lingered on your cheeks, and your breathing was a little unsteady. Your eyes narrowed slightly, darkening from what had just happened.
âFuckâŠâ you muttered, trying to steady yourself and regain your composure.
He chuckled at your reaction, his smirk growing wider as he watched you struggle to compose yourself. He found your flustered state incredibly endearing, and the fact that he was the one who caused it made it even more enjoyable.
"Having trouble breathing there, huh?" he teased, his hand still playing with the strands of your hair.
"You should confess before kissing someone, you idiot."
He feigned innocence, his smirk never leaving his face. He continued to toy with your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers in a playful manner.
"And miss the chance to surprise you? Where's the fun in that?"
"I love you too." you said, not opposed to his courting offer in the slightest.
His smirk softened into a genuine smile at your words. Heâd been hoping for that answer, but hearing you say it out loud still made his heart skip a beat.
"Good." he said quietly, fingers still playing with your hair. He stepped closer, eyes locked on your face, expression gentle.
"Because Iâm not letting you go now."
He lazily wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into a soft hug.
"I will not give you any discounts." you said, feigning nonchalance.
He laughed lightly at your words, amused by your attempt to play cool despite the fact that he could feel your heart pounding against his chest. He tightened his hug, pulling you closer, his chin resting on top of your head.
"Oh, really? No discounts then?" he teased, his tone filled with mock disappointment.
"Not even for your soon to be boyfriend?"
He noticed the subtle change in your expression as he said "soon to be boyfriend", and it only fueled his desire to get a bigger reaction from you. He gently tilted your head back, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Admit it, you like the sound of that, don't you? Having me as your boyfriend."
"Quiet." you said in a warning tone, feeling embarrassed.
He chuckled at your reply, his smirk growing wider.
"You know you can't hide it forever. I can feel your heart pounding against mine, and it's giving you away."
He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against yours again.
"Just admit it."
You suddenly placed soft kiss on his cheek.
Youâve always been a person of actions, not words.
He was taken aback by your quick move, his eyes widening slightly as he felt your lips. He had been expecting you to keep protesting, so your sudden kiss caught him off guard.
"That's cheating." he mumbled, his face slightly reddening. He tried to keep his cool, but it was impossible to hide the slight flutter in his chest.
contents: female reader, Hoshina's being gentle, repeatedly asking for consent, fingering.
One undeniable truth was that Hoshina was completely smitten with you.
During training, his eyes always, almost involuntarily, found their way to your silhouette. In the operator room, he'd quietly scan the camera feeds, always searching for a glimpse of you. He never said it out loudâhis eyes simply wandered in silence, betraying what he wouldnât admit.
He always found a moment to talk to you, to share a laugh, even if just in passing.
Today was no different. As you stood in line at the cafeteria, he came up to greet you, baring his canines in that familiar grin.
"Come on, I learned a new move." he said, waiting for you to join him so you could head to the training room together.
"I canât. Iâm in line." you replied simply â which, honestly, was just a fact. You had no intention of starving.
Hoshina groans, rolling his eyes playfully at your response. He takes a step closer, invading your personal space as he takes your hand.
"Well, good thing I'm the Vice Captain and can cut you in line anytime, right?"
His tone is a little bit cheeky, as he shoots you a playful wink while pulling you with him towards the front of the queue, much to the grumbling in annoyance of the soldiers who were just lining up behind you.
"Mr. Hoshina!" it sounded like plea as you felt piercing gazes of soldiers.
"Don't worry about it," He says nonchalantly, his grip on your hand remaining firm. "They know very well I'm their superior."
Reaching the front of the queue, he gives the cafeteria lady an apologetic smile, before turning back to you.
"What would ya like?"
"Anything." you said embarassed by whole situation.
He lets out an amused chuckle at your response, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Anything?" He echoes, raising an eyebrow teasingly. "That's awfully vague."
His gaze scans over the assortment of food and drinks on the counter, before his focus lands back on you. "C'mon, just pick something that you're cravin'. I'm buying."
Hoshina notices the look of disbelief on your face, understanding your sentimentality. His smirk softens into a kind smile, as he gently squeezes the hand he's still holding.
"Hey now." he says lightly. "Don't look at me like that."
He knows you, your tendency to be independent and self-sufficient. It's one of the things he finds admirable about you, but right now, he's not gonna let you refuse.
"Let me treat ya." he adds, tone almost pleading.
"Then spaghetti and beer." you said shyly.
Hoshina cocks an eyebrow in mild surprise, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It's not the food or drink of choice he imagined you would pick, but he doesn't judge.
"Spaghetti and beer, huh?" He repeats, the smirk transitioning into a small amused smile. "Interesting combo. Never took you for a beer lover."
He lets go of your hand, but not before giving it a light squeeze, and turns to the cafeteria lady.
"Two beers and a serving of spaghetti, please."
The cafeteria lady gives a nod, preparing the food and drinks as ordered. Hoshina turns his attention back to you, leaning against the counter with a casual grace.
"Didn't know you enjoyed drinkin'," he says nonchalantly, a playful gleam in his eyes. "And here I thought you were the disciplined, health-conscious type."
You involuntarily twirled a strand of hair around your finger as you averted his gaze.
"I thought about you like that too..."
Hoshina's eyes softened at the sight of you twirling your hair, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. He notices the slight flush in your cheeks as you shy away from his gaze, and it only piqued his curiosity even more.
"Oh?" He prompts, raising an eyebrow at your response. "And what else did you think of me, hmm? I'm curious now."
His gaze remains locked on you, studying your expression with a hint of lightheartedness.
Your mind, for a split second, wandered back to that one night when you accidentally caught a glimpse of him training. In a compression shirt.
You remembered the way the fabric clung to his form, the way his muscles moved with precise control. His canines, those sharp eyes... but you shut the thought down before it could linger. Youâd never admit â not out loud â that you found him attractive.
Instead, in a dismissive tone, you said;
"You have...an interesting choice of hairstyle."
A small, amused chuckle escaped his lips at your nonchalant comment about his hairstyle. He runs a hand through his purple locks, as if he's considering your words, before his smirk returns.
"Any specific thoughts about it, or is it just 'interesting'?"
"Rather just interesting." you said, slightly reluctantly.
Hardly anyone could pull off a hairstyle like that â it was, quite literally, a bowl.
The next time, you found yourself in the training room, where he was helping you use a bladed weapon.
He stood beside you, offering verbal guidance â
"Loosen your grip a little," he said, gently. "Youâre not trying to strangle the handle."
There were times when words alone weren't enough to correct your form, and Hoshina would step forward to physically adjust your movements.
He stood behind you, his warm breath fanning gently against your neck, as his hands gently guided your arm into the correct position.
"You need to be a bit more fluid here," he murmured in a low tone, adjusting the angle of your elbow. "Don't keep your body too stiff. Let it flow with every move."
His touch was surprisingly gentle for a vice-captain. His calloused hands moved over your body as he guided you, correcting the tilt of your waist, the alignment of your feet, the position of your shoulders.
"Relax a little," he said softly, his breath near your ear again. "You look like you're about to snap. The sword is an extension of your body. Move with ease, not tension."
"I know, but itâs heavier than I thought." you replied with a soft sigh.
You were trying â really â but deep down, you had the feeling that without him, you wouldnât have made any progress at all.
Hoshina couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at your complaint.
"I know it is," he replied, his hands still gently adjusting your stance. "That's why we're here, after all. Practice and patience...and maybe a little bit of yelling from me." His tone was light-hearted, almost teasing as he smirked down at you.
"I donât recall you ever yelling at me." you said, looking at him with a hint of surprise.
Hoshina's smirk widened into a lighthearted smile at your response. He stepped back a little, studying your form once more.
"Maybe 'yell' is a strong word," he conceded, the playful glint in his eyes never leaving. "Maybe it's more like, sternly motivating encouragement."
He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall with a casual air.
"But trust me, if you do something completely off, I'll make sure to correct you...loudly."
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he watched you scrunch your face in thought, trying to recall the past months' training sessions.
"Oh, I definitely have," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and mild pride. "A few times, actually."
Hoshina pushed himself off the wall, walking over to stand in front of you. He rested a hand on his hip, his smirk still in place.
"I remember one time you were holding the sword too loosely," he recalled with a smirk. "One of the worst stances I've ever seen."
It hit you like a truck.
Yes, you definitely remembered now. Kafka had tried to help you⊠in his own way. But he only made it worse.
You were a rookie back then â clumsy, unsure, eager to learn but too proud to ask twice. Kafka had shown you that stance, convinced it would work.
And it didnât.
But you never told Hoshina. Never said a word. You werenât the kind of person to rat someone out, especially not a friend. So you took the fall in silence.
Hoshina noticed the realization dawning upon you, the memory flooding back into your mind. He could see it in your expression, the way your eyes widened slightly, and the slight twitch in your stance.
He stepped a little closer, studying your face with a knowing smirk.
"Ah, you remember now, don't you?" he said, his tone slightly teasing. "That disaster of a stance from months ago. You tried to mimic Kafka, right?"
Before you could even stop yourself, your hands flew up to cover your face, only your eyes peeking through your fingers to look at him.
"How⊠did you know?" you asked, your voice slightly quieter than usual â laced with disbelief.
You were certain heâd never picked up on it.
Hoshina chuckled at the sight of you hiding your face in your hands, finding it incredibly endearing. He could see the slight hint of embarrassment in your eyes peeking through your fingers.
He casually leaned against the wall, crossing one leg over the other as he answered.
"Well..." he began, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "For one, it was obvious."
He paused for a moment, studying your flushed face, before continuing.
"And two, I could recognize Kafka's sloppy technique a mile away."
The smirk on Hoshina's face widened as he continued. "And the way you were holding that sword was a disaster waiting to happen. It was a complete lack of balance and precision...and it was a dead give away that you copied Kafka."
He pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to you, his playful demeanor still present. "But I'll give you credit - at least you tried. Even if it was an absolute mess."
You took a step back from him involuntarily, as if your body needed space to steady itself â to calm down from the sudden rush of memories.
Memories of when you were new to the Third Division. Trying too hard not to fall behind.
Hoshina noticed your step back, your body's subtle movement betraying your attempt to remain composed. He raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening slightly as he studied your expression.
He took a calculated step forward, closing the distance between you once more.
"You're still embarrassed about that, huh?" he teased, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It was months ago. No one's gonna remember that disaster of a stance except me."
You could swear a wave of heat spread through your body at his words.
It was even worse than that. You didnât want him to remember. Without a word, you turned your back to him, hiding the flush burning your cheeks.
Hoshina's smirk grew wider as he took in your reaction, noticing the way you averted your gaze and turned your back to him. He could almost see the heat radiating from your body, which only fueled his playful nature.
He took a few more steps forward, his footsteps light and quiet. He came to stand behind you, his presence looming over you.
"Why so shy, huh?" he teased, his voice a whisper near your ear. "It was just a little mistake. Everyone makes those, especially rookies."
"I know, butâŠ" you began, taking a few steps forward to put a little distance between you and him.
Hoshina chuckled at your attempts to put some distance between you two, following you with a casual stride. His smirk remained firmly in place, enjoying this little game of cat and mouse.
"But what?" he prompted, his tone slightly teasing. He continued to follow you as you moved around the room, his eyes never leaving your form.
"You afraid I'm gonna make fun of you?" he asked, a hint of playful mockery in his words.
"Youâre mean, Hoshina." you said, as you noticed him quietly tailing your every move, closing the distance despite your efforts to keep some space.
His smirk grew wider as you called him out on being mean, an amused chuckle escaping his lips. He continued to follow you around the room, matching your every movement.
"Mean? Me?" he replied, feigning innocence. "I prefer the term 'playful' or 'teasing.' It's all in good fun, you know."
He took another couple steps closer, closing the distance again, his eyes glinting devilishly.
"You know you can't escape me, right?"
You could practically feel the heat radiating off of Hoshina as he continued his playful pursuit, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He was enjoying this little game, watching you squirm and evade his advances.
"You're so skittish," he remarked, a smirk on his face as he closed in. "Do I make you nervous or something?"
He reached out, gently grabbing your wrist, preventing you from retreating further.
You gasped silently at his sudden grip.
You hadnât expected it. Or maybe youâd been deluding yourself, thinking heâd actually let you "run away".
Hoshina relished in the small gasp that escaped your lips at his touch, feeling the soft thud of your pulse against his fingers. The grip on your wrist was firm yet gentle, a subtle display of his strength.
He chuckled at your shocked reaction and tugged lightly on your wrist, slowly reeling you in.
"Got ya," he said with a sly smirk, watching as you stumbled back towards him. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Just give me a break." you muttered between breaths, still flushed from his earlier teasing.
You could feel how close he was behind you, his presence pressing quietly against your back.
Hoshina chuckled lowly at your muttered words, finding your flustered state endlessly amusing. He took another step closer, his chest now almost pressed against your back. The scent of his cologne, a subtle mixture of citrus and spice, filled your senses.
He spoke in a low tone, his lips dangerously near your ear.
"Why should I give you a break when this is so entertaining?" he teased, his grip on your wrist not loosening. "Besides...you look adorable like this."
You couldnât help it â your hand instinctively rose to cover your ear as you tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze.
Your pupils were slightly widened, a faint blush coloring your cheeks.
Hoshina's smirk widened as he noticed the subtle, flustered reaction in your actions. He appreciated the sight before him, taking in the details. The way your eyes widened slightly, the faint blush on your cheeks, the fact that you were covering your ear, all these little details sent a thrill through him.
"My stance really was that bad?"
.
.
.
Whenever you found yourself walking down the corridors, your path inevitably crossing Hoshina's, you couldn't help but notice the subtle glances he'd throw your way. His purple eyes, glinting with mischief, always seemed to find yours in a room full of people. He knew about your little secret, your secret fondness for his eyes, and he reveled in it.
You could see the slightest twitch of an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed your reaction. It was as if he was silently saying, "I know."
And sometimes⊠you wondered.
If there was something deeper behind his actions â a meaning tucked between the glances, the teasing, the way he always found his way to you.
As time passed, you began to notice that Hoshinaâs little acts of attention werenât so little anymore â and they certainly werenât subtle. Heâd brush against your shoulder in passing, linger just a moment too long when handing you something, or find the most casual excuse to sit a little too close.
Last time, it was:
"Come closer, Shinomiya wants to sit."
â even though there was clearly space on the other side.
His eyes would linger on you, longer than necessary. His smirk â that half-knowing, teasing curve of his lips â had become a near-constant.
It was starting to feel less like coincidenceâŠ
And more like a silent message he was waiting for you to understand.
There was an elephant in the room, but nobody wanted to acknowledge it.
Your mind was in constant turmoil, caught in a battle between hope and doubt.
You kept questioning yourself, wondering if you were overthinking everything. Maybe Hoshina was just being friendly, and you were reading too much into his actions. After all, he was naturally a flirty person by nature.
And so, you decided to lie to yourself â telling yourself it was all imagination. Surely, you were just seeing things.
One afternoon, as the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold, you found yourself walking alone through the headquarters. It was a little later than usual, the hallways deserted.
Suddenly, you felt a hand gently grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. The touch was firm yet gentle, familiar. Before you could even look back, a low, familiar voice broke the silence.
"We need to talk."
"Jesus, next time walk a little louder. Iâm not a kaijuu." you said, slightly surprised by his presence."
Hoshina rolled his eyes at your response, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn't budge as he still held your wrist, keeping you from moving.
"What, did I scare ya?" he replied with a teasing tone. "Anyway, we need to talk."
"Fine." you replied, glancing at him.
Hoshina nodded in acknowledgement, his grip loosening on your wrist but not completely letting go. He started to lead you down the hallway, heading towards an empty conference room.
Once there, he motioned for you to take a seat while he shut the door behind him, ensuring some privacy.
He leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded across his chest, and regarded you with a serious expression.
"I did something?" you couldnât help but ask, the question slipping out as you caught the look on his face.
Hoshina chuckled lightly at your initial question. A part of him found it cute how you seemed genuinely worried. But he quickly composed himself, his expression becoming serious once again.
"No, you didn't do anything." he replied, his tone earnest.
He took a deep breath, his gaze fixated on you.
"But we need to discuss something. It's been on my mind for a while now."
Hoshina's gaze remained fixed on you, his expression somewhat stern, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes. He pushed himself away from the table and took a couple of steps towards you.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while." he continued, his voice still serious but holding a hint of something else.
He stopped in front of you, standing only a couple of feet away, and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze still locked on you.
"It's about....us."
The moment he uttered the words us.
your heart began to beat a little faster. You could already feel the seriousness in the air, the weight of the conversation coming.
Hoshina let his hand fall back to his side, his expression now more solemn than ever. He was visibly trying to find the right words, a subtle sigh escaping his lips.
"We've known each other for...how long now?" he asked, his eyes never breaking contact with yours.
You broke eye contact for a moment, your gaze drifting involuntarily to the wall as memories surfaced.
"...Slightly over three years?" you murmured quietly.
Hoshina nodded at your estimate, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. There were many memories attached to those three years, countless experiences shared, both good and bad.
"Three years," he repeated, letting the word linger in the air for a moment. "Yeah, it's been that long."
He took another step closer, almost closing the distance between you.
"And during those three years, we've grown pretty close, right?"
Hoshina noticed the shift in your eyes, the anticipation for his next words. Despite his typical playfulness, he was uncharacteristically serious at the moment.
He took another step closer, now stood right in front of you, his gaze intense. He looked you in the eyes, his tone still somber.
"And in that time," he began, pausing for a brief moment. "I've come to realize something, something important."
Hoshina reached out and gently touched your chin with his thumb, tilting it up slightly, so you were looking at him directly.
"I've come to realize," he repeated, his tone soft yet firm. "That my feelings for you have grown beyond a simple friendship."
Hoshina could tell that you were holding back your words, silently listening to his every word.
With a soft sigh, he continued, his hand still gently cupping your chin, keeping his gaze locked on you.
"What I'm trying to say is, I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings."
He paused for a moment, gauging your reaction, his eyes searching your expression.
You started to blush involuntarily, but sighed softly.
"You could be more honest about it, Soshiro. It sounds like a presentation, not a confeâ"
Yet your poor little lips couldnât quite finish the word.
As you tried to add a little levity to the situation, Hoshina's expression suddenly transformed into a smirk, and before you could even finish your sentence, he closed the distance between you in a swift motion.
His lips gently pressed against yours, silencing your words in an instant. The touch was both gentle yet possessive, a silent confirmation of the feelings he had just professed.
He pulled away slightly, still a breath away from your lips, his eyes locked with yours. "Well, there's my honesty."
You stared at him, stunned â completely caught off guard by the unexpected kiss.
Hoshina grinned in response to your surprised expression, clearly enjoying the effect he just had on you. He leaned back a little, giving you some space, but his hand remained gently holding your chin.
"Speechless, huh?" he teased, a playful sparkle in his eye. "Seems I did a good job shutting you up for once."
"S-Soshiro!" you stammered, your voice rising slightly in surprise. You couldnât believe heâd kissed you just to shut you up.
Hoshina chuckled heartily at your reaction
He loved seeing you flustered like this, the sight sending a wave of affection through him.
Before you could even think, you grabbed his collar and pressed your lips against his.
His eyes opened, revealing those pupils youâd always adored so much.
Hoshina was taken off guard by the sudden pull, but his surprise quickly dissolved into a content smile as your lips met his. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his eyes locked on yours.
"You're looking at them again." he murmured against your lips, a smirk playing on his face.
You traced your tongue lightly over his lower lip.
Hoshina's breath hitched in his throat as your tongue grazed against his lip, his smirk faltering momentarily. But after a brief moment he tried to slid in his tongue into your lips.
The kiss deepened as their tongues met in an intimate dance. Hoshina tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body now pressed against yours.
With a low growl, he bit your lower lip, a silent command. It was a clear sign of his growing desire and affection.
Hoshina noticed the subtle widening of your eyes, and it only fueled his growing desire. He deepened the kiss further, his grip on your waist tight and possessive as he explored your mouth.
He then broke the kiss and moved his mouth to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He left a trail of kisses along your jawline, making his way down to your collarbone.
Hoshina smirked against your skin as he heard the soft sound you made, his heart picking up speed in response. He relished in the fact that he was the one causing such reactions from you.
He continued to kiss and nibble at your collarbone, his focus on your neck now. His teeth grazed against your sensitive spot, eliciting another sigh from you. He found a particular point he liked, and decided to pay extra attention to it, gently sucking on the skin.
You grabbed the hair at the back of his head, unsure whether you wanted more or to push him away.
Hoshina felt your action and smirked against your skin, loving how responsive you are. He continued to suck and nibble at the sensitive spot on your neck, creating a small mark.
At the same time, his hand that wasn't holding your waist began to glide under your shirt, the touch light, almost teasing.
"S-soshiro."
The way you said his name, the way it rolled off your tongue all breathless and flustered, it fueled the fire within him even more.
He pulled away from your neck, noticing the mark he just made, a sense of pride washed over him. Still keeping a firm grip on your waist, he leaned back a bit, a sly smile on his face.
His hand under your shirt continued to explore, gently tracing circles on your abdomen.
"I love you." You knew that was predictable by now, but you wantedâno, neededâto say it.
Hoshina felt his heart skip a beat the moment you confessed, his smile softening into something more sincere. He lifted his free hand to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, his eyes gazing into yours.
"I love you too," he replied, his voice low and sincere. "More than you know."
He shifted your position, moving you so that you were now pressed against the edge of the table, standing between your legs.
"I think you love me too much." you said amused as you felt pressed against the furniture.
Hoshina chuckled at your comment, the amusement in your words not lost on him. He leaned closer, his body now flush against yours, trapping you against the table.
"Too much?" he repeated, his tone full of playfulness. "I'd argue its the perfect amount."
He brought his hand to your thigh, gently sliding it up your skin under your shirt.
"You don't have to literally love me at table to prove it-"
Hoshina chuckled heartily, his hand now slowly moving further up your thigh as he leaned in closer to your ear. He could feel his own breathing quickening as he got increasingly more worked up.
"I'm just making sure you're aware of how much I love you." he murmured, his hand now tracing circles on the inside of your thigh.
"I thought you follow a rule; sex after marriage-"
Hoshina let out a soft chuckle as you brought up the subject, a playful glint in his eyes. He pulled back slightly to look at your face as his hand continued to trace circles on your thigh.
"That rule still stands, don't worry." he assured you.
His hand dangerously traveled higher, close to touch your crotch.
"...Fingering doesn't count as a sex, ya know?"
"Besides," he continued, his voice just above a whisper. "I have amazing self-control."
He punctuated his words by tracing his index finger against your clothed entrance, the touch light but sending jolts of electricity through your body.
"I can stop if you don't want me to," he murmured in your ear, his hand still gently moving against your clothed most sensitive part.
"or I can continue and prove how much I love you."
You started to feel how shamelessly your body reacted. You were getting wetter with each passing second.
The feel of your body's reaction sent a wave of arousal through Hoshina's own body, the fact that he was able to get such response from you was making him more and more impatient. He could feel the heat radiating from you as his fingers moved against your clothed entrance.
"I can tell you're feeling good," he murmured against your ear, his voice low with lust, as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements. "Do you want me to keep going?"
"Please."
A small smirk tugged at the corner of Hoshina's lips as he heard you begging, his fingers still tracing circles against you. He was enjoying seeing you needy like this, knowing he was the cause of it.
"Since you're being so politeâŠ"
He added a bit more pressure, his fingers continuing their circular motions.
Hoshina stepped back, his hands moving to the waistband of your trousers. He could see the anticipation in your eyes, the way your breath hitched, and it only added more fuel to his desire.
"Lift your hips."
His words were a low command, spoken in a tone that was both patient and authoritative.
The moment you lifted your hips, Hoshina pulled down your trousers, his eyes drinking in the sight of you now. A low sigh escaped him and he stepped back between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs.
Hoshina's gaze traveled down to the wet spot on your underwear. He loved seeing how aroused you were, the visible evidence of your desire for him only fueling his own growing lust.
"You're so ready for me, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire.
His hand lightly traced the spot, the touch gentle but electric. "Can I continue?"
"Please.."
A shudder of desire coursed through Hoshina at the sound of your plea, the word so sweet in his ear. He slowly pushed aside your underwear with his index finger.
The cool air hit your exposed skin as your panties were pushed to the side, Hoshina's finger still tracing circles on your entrance. He could see the small trembling in your body, the way you were already so wet and eager for his touch.
"I'll make it good for you," he promised, his voice a low rumble. "Just relax and feel how much I love you."
His finger moved lower, slowly, teasingly.
Until it finally found its target, touching your entrance. Hoshina's finger started moving in small, slow circles, the touch just enough to drive you crazy. He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear, as he murmured in a low voice full of lust and desire.
"Do you want more?"
You nodded in agreement. Hoshina's breath hitched at your confirmation. In a smooth movement, two of his fingers pressed against you, their entry slow and steady.
He leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck, as he started moving his fingers, the pace still slow.
"You're so wet." he murmured, his breath hitching slightly at the sensation, his fingers moving in and out in a slow motion.
"You have no idea how many times I've thought about this," he breathed out, his voice rough with desire. "About how much I've wanted to touch you like this."
Hoshina's fingers continued their sensual rhythm, the pace still maddeningly slow. He nipped at your neck, his lips grazing your skin, before speaking again in a low, rough voice.
"I've thought about how you'd feel around my fingers," he murmured, his words sending shivers down your spine. "About how good it would feel to touch you, to make you feel good, to show you how much I adore you."
The sound of your gasps and moans only fueled his desire, making him move his fingers faster. He wanted to worship you, to show you just how much you meant to him.
"I've craved you like an addiction." he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.
His fingers moved with increasing speed, his touch both gentle and demanding. His lips traveled down your neck, peppering kisses against your skin. He could hear the small gasps and moans escaping you, a sound that only drove his desire further.
"But it's nothing compared to the real thing." he murmured against your collarbone, his voice rough with arousal.
Hoshina continued his ministrations, his fingers moving more firmly now. He wanted to make you feel good, to show you just how much he loved you. His lips continued to trail down your neck, pausing only to nip at your skin, his teeth leaving small marks on your skin.
"I want to make you feel so good, just as good as you make me feel." he whispered against your collarbone, the words a confession of desire. "I love you, more than you can understand."
His words were like a spell, his touch like fire on your skin. Hoshina's fingers moved faster, the pace increasingly erratic as his desire for you grew more intense. He could feel his own breath heaving, his body responding to every gasp and moan that escaped you.
"I love you." he breathed out again, the words like a chant on his lips. "I love you so much, I can't get you out of my mind."
His fingers started to move faster, the pace now more urgent, as Hoshina continued to kiss and nibble at your skin. He wanted, no, needed to show you just how much he loved you, just how addicted he was to you.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmured against your skin, the words punctuated by ragged breaths. "I think about you all the damn time, in every moment of my day."
Hoshina's fingers moved with increasing speed, his touch now urgent. He could feel your body responding to his touch, and it only fueled his desire further. He leaned back a bit to look at your face, taking in the flushed, aroused expression on your face.
"And every night, I dream about you," he said in a breathless voice. "Every night, I dream about being close to you like this. Touching you like this..."
His fingers moved even faster, his touches now bordering on desperate. Hoshina wanted to give you pleasure, to show you just how much you meant to him. He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear.
"And it's not just this," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I dream about the little things, too. Holding your hand, watching the sunset, cooking together...anything, everything. As long as it's with you."
His fingers moved with a new intensity, the pace almost frantic now. Hoshina's breath hitched with every noise that escaped your lips, his own desire for you only growing stronger. His lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and small marks on your skin.
"I dream about waking up next to you," the whispered confession came out between ragged breaths. "Seeing your face first thing in the morning, feeling your body close to mineâŠ"
He could feel your body responding to his every touch, and it drove him to move even quicker, desperate to give you pleasure. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, as he continued to confess.
"And I dream about the future," he murmured, the words a low, whispered secret. "About marrying you, starting a family together... growing old with you by my side."
You couldn't help but clench around his fingers as he spoke with so much adoration directed towards you.
Hoshina could feel the moment you clenched around his fingers, and it only increased his desire for you. His breath hitched at the sensation, but he continued to move his fingers, wanting more than ever to give you pleasure.
He let a gasp escape, his words now almost a desperate murmur in your ear. "And most of all, I dream about making you happyâŠto always see that beautiful smile on your face."
You looked at him pleadingly, asking him to kiss you with your eyes.
Hoshina looked into your eyes, the pleading expression in your gaze like a magnetic pull. He could hardly deny you anything in this moment, and seeing you ask for a kiss with your eyes only reinforced his desire.
"You want me to kiss you?" he asked, his voice low and filled with need, as he continued to move his fingers.
"Y-yes." you confirmed as you started your eyes become watery from sensations.
Hoshina's heart skipped a beat as he heard the need in your voice. He could see the way your eyes began to water, a sign of the pleasure he was giving you. The sight only served to fuel his own desire, and his fingers moved even faster.
He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your skin. "Are you close?" he murmured, the question spoken in a low whisper. His fingers continued to move, the pace now even more intense than before.
He leaned even closer, his lips just inches from yours.
As he hit your sweet spot, Hoshina couldn't help but notice the single tear that slipped down your cheek. The sight sent a jolt of desire through him, and for a brief moment, he almost lost control.
He let out a low groan, his fingers moving ever faster.
"You're so close," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "I can tell, I can feel it."
He kissed you passionately, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he moved his fingers even faster. He could feel you getting close, the sounds escaping your mouth growing more and more high-pitched.
He managed to muffle them with deepening his kiss. His fingers tormenting your insides.
Hoshina could feel your body tensing, your moans being swallowed by the kiss, as his fingers worked their magic. He could feel your need building, and he was desperate to push you over the edge.
And with final, an exceptional deep thrust, you came. Clenching around his fingers tightly.
He continued to kiss you, his tongue tangling with yours, as he slowly withdrew his fingers.
You ended up falling asleep on the table.
Hoshina carefully dressed you, moving with gentle, careful hands. He knew he needed to make sure you were covered before anyone walked in and saw you in such an intimate state.
He took his time, carefully pulling your pants back up.
He couldn't help but glance at the marks he left on your neck, a small smirk tugging on his lips.
contents: reader is a member of Order, reader shows a lack of manners here, reader messes with his food by adding onion.
You were sitting inside a good old pub. You were in the middle of a mission, but Osaragi insisted on eating tonkatsu for good luck. You didnât believe in superstitions, so you just ordered udon. You werenât in a hurry to eat. You always had this habit â when the food arrived, youâd partially ignore it and just keep talking. Even when everyone else was eating, youâd go on speaking. Just as you were about to start eating, Osaragi finished her meal and left.
"Donât get lost." Shishiba said, and with those words, he continued his meal, only glancing at Osaragi as she walked out the door. The moment the flavor hit his taste buds, Shishibaâs expression barely changed, but there was a subtle twitch in his brow. His eyes, usually laced with bored indifference, locked onto you with something bordering on actual irritation.
"When did youâ" he cut himself off in mid-sentence as it dawned on him that you had probably taken advantage of that earlier moment when his eyes were following Osaragi.
"You ever pull that again," he said, voice level but carrying a very real weight "You're seriously dead meat."
"I think your pork is already a dead meat." you said without even blinking.
There was a beat of silence as Shishiba stared at you, his face giving nothing away. Then, out of nowhere, a snort escaped himâfollowed by a rough bark of laughter.
"Tch..." he rubbed a hand over his face, still chuckling.
"But seriously, next time you try somethin' like that â I will put a chopsticks through you."
He picked up his own food again and began eating, as if nothing had happenedâthough the way he chewed was a tiny bit more violent than before. Your mind starts to wander about how it would look, but you quickly decide to turn it off.
"I thought you would never hurt a lady." you said slightly amused, noticing a hint of irritation in his actions.
Shishiba paused mid-bite, a look of disbelief (and maybe just a hint of amusement) flickering across his face.
"And what made you think that?" he said, a touch of sarcasm coloring his voice. He set his utensils down and folded his arms over his chest. "I'm an assassin, not a saintâI'd think you knew that by now."
âAnd I have worked with you for years, so I do notice that you tend to be less violent with women.â your tone changedâjust a little, but enough to get under his skin.
This time Shishiba didn't even try to hide his reaction. His eyebrows shot up, and that hint of amusement grew just a little.
"Oh, you noticed that, huh?"
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle and studying you closely. It was true that he was less harsh with certain targets than others, but he never expected anyone to actually pick up on it. "You're too observant for your own good." he added reluctantly.
You started eating your udon with fork. If you used chopsticks, it would take an eternity to eat those slippery noodles. Your weakness is... talking too much and ending up with cold food. You never cared if someone stared at you while you ate. The pub looked old from the outside, but it had its own charm. For a moment, your eyes stayed on the chicken as you suddenly felt his gaze. Shishiba couldn't help but stare as you used the fork. It felt almost...wrong, somehow.
"You know," he said idly. "using a fork for noodles isn't exactly proper."
"And gentelman shouldn't point it out for a lady."
Shishiba chuckled, unable to fight the grin that tugged at his lips. "Who said I was a gentleman?" he replied, lifting an eyebrow.
"Me. Sentence ago." you said that while stabbing your chicken with a fork. You noticed how he rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head in resignation.
"You have an answer for everything, don't you?" he mused, more to himself than you.
His gaze moved across the table to your plate. He couldn't help but comment again.
"But really, it's better with chopsticks. You get the full experience that way."
A brief silence fell before you let out a sigh and replied sharply.
"Said by a grown-ass man whoâs afraid of onions."
Without blinking, you twirled the pasta around your fork as if you were eating spaghetti.
Shishiba's eyes narrowed, annoyance flaring up again at your retort. "I am not afraid of onion. I just... dislike it." he corrected, a touch more harshly than necessary.
He watched as you twirled the noodles, his irritation growing at the sight.
"And stop treating them like spaghetti, that's just..." he paused, searching for the words. "...unholy."
"I can always tilt a bowl and try to swallow-" you answered immediately with an amused smile, knowing he wouldnât like the idea.
"God, don't even joke about that." Shishiba pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly struggling to maintain his usual cool demeanor. There was something about the your disregard for proper noodle etiquette (and your constant teasing) that got under his skin. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.
"You're impossible."
You just let his comment go in one ear and out the other. You didn't take his irritation seriously. "Lately, I have been relying on a fork too much, so I'm a bit awkard with chopsticks now."
"You have trouble with chopsticks?" he asked, eyebrow raised. The idea seemed almost absurd, coming from an assassin he knew was deadly with a knife. He let out a snort of amusement before he could stop himself. "You? The deadly assassin who can take out a target from a hundred yards away, and you can't handle some sticks?"
"No, your mother." you brushed off, twirling noodles around your fork. Shishiba felt the last threads of his patience snap. You were purposefully provoking him at this point.
"That's it." he said suddenly, standing up quickly from booth seating.
You noticed out of the corner of your eye how he leaned slightly over the table, probably trying to make you feel uncomfortable. An involuntary smile touched your lips at his failed attempt.
"If you're gonna disrespect the art of noodle eating, then maybe I'll just have to teach you some manners."
You couldnât help but laugh at those words. He sounded as if you had committed a national crime and deserved to be beheaded.
"You think it's hilarious to insult proper noodle etiquette when you're sitting here slurping it like-"
He waved a hand, struggling to find the words.
"Like an uncultured barbarian."
"What else did you want to say, Shishiba?" you asked immediately, sensing that he was on the verge of saying something harsher but held back at the last moment. Shishiba paused for a moment, realizing he had been caught. "I..." He trailed off, hesitating, before a rough sigh escaped him.
"I was going to say 'termagant," he confessed reluctantly. "But I wasn't sure you would even understand what that meant." he added, a touch of snark creeping into his voice once again.
You looked at him in silence. What the hell is termagant?
Shishiba's expression shifted from annoyance to something between amusement and disbelief. "You... you don't know what 'termagant' means?" He said slowly, enunciating each syllable like he was talking to a child. He sit back on booth seating, arms folding over his chest once more as he began to speak slowly.
"Termagant⊠it means someone ill-mannered. Someone without culture. In this case..."
He gestured at her noodle-slurping technique.
"You."
"Said by a person who do a cardio when I hit a nerve" you stabbed a piece of chicken with your fork and pointed it at him.
"I don'tâ" He stopped himself, gritting his teeth. He watched as you continued eating with that damned fork, a new wave of annoyance washing over him. "I was thinking more along the lines of instilling some culture into you," he replied coolly, raising an eyebrow.
"Proper noodle-eating manners, for instance."
You knew it was time to stop the charade. His constant complaining was starting to wear on you. With a quiet sigh, you looked down at your food, put your fork aside and reached for the chopsticks. You went for a noodle, but it was too slippery and slid right out of your chopsticks. Shishiba smirked slightly as he watched you struggle, obviously finding some amusement in your clumsiness.
"Here, let me show you." He said, a hint of condescension in his tone.
He stood up from his seat and walked over to sit next to you. He leaned closer, his arm brushing yours as he reached over to guide your hand with the chopsticks.
"You need to hold them a little higher, like this." He demonstrated, expertly grasping a noodle between the chopsticks and lifting it away from the bowl. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers warm against yours as he adjusted the placement of your chopsticks.
"Now, you try." He said, removing his hand and gesturing for you to mimic his actions.
You barely managed to pick up a noodle. Though your technique has gotten a bit better. Shishiba noticed how your grip is a little shaky.
"Better," he said with a nod. "You're starting to get the hang of it." His annoyance from earlier had faded somewhat, replaced instead by an unexpected patience.
He watched as you attempted another noodle, his gaze critical.
"One word, and I will get back to the fork." you mumbled with a hint of warning.
"No fork," he said firmly, placing a hand over the offending utensil. He was determined to teach you proper noodle etiquette, even if it killed him. "You'll finish this bowl using chopsticks and you'll like it, even if I have to physically hold your hand the whole time."
A mischief flicker met your eyes.
"Huh, court me at least, Shishiba-san~"
Shishiba bristled. Court you? Him? The idea was... absurd. And yet, that mischievous glint in your eyes made it difficult to look away.
"Iâ" He began, then cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I'm not here to court you, I'm teaching you how to eat properly, nothing more." he insisted, the denial sounding a little weaker than he intended.
You leaned in slightly toward him with a smile. As soon as the chance appeared, in one swift move you grabbed the fork. He swore under his breath as he realized what was happening. He should've known you would pull something like this.
"You littleâ" he started, trying to snatch the fork back from you. His fingers barely grazed it before you withdrew away from him, holding it just out of reach.
"Give that back." he said, irritation and... something else flaring in his eyes.
"Over my dead bodyâ"
Shishiba's irritation flared again, the audacity driving his patience thin. He had half a mind to physically grab the fork away, but he stopped himself at the last moment.
"You're seriously so stubborn, you know that?" He grumbled, trying to cover up the fact that part of him was begrudgingly amused by your defiant attitude.
He held out a hand, palm up.
"Fork. Now."
You placed one noodle on his palm. With absolute seriousness on your face, even though inside you were dying of laughter. Shishiba looked down at his hand, a single noodle resting in the center of his palm. He lifted an eyebrow, his expression a mix of annoyance and slight bewilderment.
He let out a huff.
"This isn't what Iâ" He started, but then an idea formed. A small, devious plan to get back at you.
He lifted the noodle, examining it for a moment before his eyes flicked back to you.
"Say 'ahh'" he said suddenly.
A stupid thought crossed your mind. As always.
"Aaaa! Help!!!" you tried to draw attention to yourself. A desperate attempt to save yourself from that situation.
"H-Hey, hey!" Shishiba quickly clapped a hand over your mouth before you could finish your sentence. He looked around nervously at the few people nearby, who were starting to glance in their direction.
His eyes flashed with irritation as he spoke, the tension barely hidden beneath his voice.
"Be quiet" he hissed, his hand still covering your mouth.
"Just... just open your mouth, would you?" his voice carried a quiet trace of resignation.
And...you did what you were told, but not in the way he expected. Shishiba froze at the warm, wet sensation of your tongue against his hand. His eyes widened in surprise, a jolt of something unfamiliar shooting through him.
"Did... did you just lick my hand?" his voice coming out in an almost strangled sounding whisper.
He withdrew his hand, staring at it in a mixture of disbelief and... something else he couldn't quite identify. Shishiba sat for a moment in silence, his hand still tingling from the feel of your tongue. He looked back at you, watching the amusement dance in your eyes. A part of him wanted to be mad, to be annoyed. But another, strange part of him couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching upward.
"Anyone can tell from a mile away that you were trained by Nagumo."
"Is that a compliment?" you said with feigned innocence.
Shishiba rolled his eyes, the familiar feeling of irritation returning. Damn it, he was slipping. Allowing you to get under his skin so easily.
"I wouldn't exactly call it a compliment," he replied gruffly.
He crossed his arms, turning his gaze away from you.
"Nagumo's style is all about chaos, unpredictability. It's reckless."
"But then again..." he added, his gaze flicking back to you. There was a hint of something in his eyes then. A flicker of grudging respect.
âOr was it fascination?
"He's damn good at it. You're just as annoying as he is." he said, unable to keep a hint of a smirk from tugging at the corner of his mouth.
A moment of silence passed between the two of you. Shishiba's mind continued to replay the feel of your tongue against his hand. Why was he dwelling on such a ridiculous detail? He took a breath, forcing himself to push the memory aside.
"Here." he said, reaching for his chopsticks.
You glanced at his hand not knowing what he is up to. You tilted your head to side involuntarily. He noticed your confusion and almost had to suppress a smirk. The way you looked when curious was⊠well, it was cute. Though he'd never admit it out loud.
"Lift your chin." he commanded, his voice surprisingly gentle.
He picked up a single noodle with his chopsticks, bringing it towards your mouth.
"So, you feed Osaragâ??"
He cut you off mid-sentence by bluntly stuffing a noodle into your mouth. You nearly choked in surprise, but quickly ate it anyway, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.
He couldn't help but feel a swell of satisfaction at you reaction. There was something satisfying about getting the better of you for once.
"And for your information, I have not fed Osaragi like this before." he added, slightly defensively.
He picked up another noodle, his eyes fixed on you as he brought it closer to your mouth again.
"Say 'ahh'," he instructed, his voice still holding that gentle edge. Part of him was surprised at his own behavior. What was he doing, feeding you like this? Yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself from continuing. Maybe it was the slight thrill of doing something so unexpected. Or maybe it was the way you looked at him with your wide eyes and flushed cheeks. He couldn't tell which. You placed a hand on your mouth to protect it this time as you speak. Now you knew that he's going to use any chance to shove it into your mouth. "I'm not a kid!" - your eyes narrowed slightly. He watched as you covered your mouth with a hand, a smirk playing at the corners of his own. You were learning. But he wasn't quite done teasing you yet.
"You're acting like one, though." he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mockery.
His gaze fell on the fork resting on the table beside your hand. It was the same one you had used earlier. â then, with calm precision, he returned the noodle to your bowl using his chopsticks. Just as you were about to say something, feeling a wave of relief...he suddenly moved with the precision of a seasoned assassin and knocked the fork. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter.
It was the only fork on the table.
You look at him with a mixture of surprise and indignation. Did he justâŠknock the fork away?
Shishiba was enjoying watching you react to his antics.
"Oops. Looks like there goes your only other option," he said innocently, as if he hadn't just deliberately sabotaged your escape from the noodle situation. "You have no choice but to use chopsticks." he added, a smirk on his face as he watched you struggle to respond.
He had you cornered, and they both knew it.
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, his chin resting on one hand. He didn't take his eyes off you for a second.
"So, are you going to accept your fate and just admit defeat, or do I have to feed you like a child again?" He asked innocently, his voice taking on a mockingly sweet tone.
Maybe next time, you really should listen to Osaragi and order the tonkatsu. You clearly need all the luck you can get.
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