Alpha-0nE

[partyposon]

Yall think the furin administrative assign classes based of the leaders?

like they see Kaji's form and go "Yeah this guy's feral, put him under Hiragi"

"oh this guy's known since his middle school days, put him under Hiragi"

"Sugishita? Also Hiragi"

"who's this kid?" " He's from out of town? No worries we got Hiragi"

[itszenith]

I got to share this 😭😭😭😭

[rabbbitseason]

2026.05.19 who's your date for tonight?

[swopy]

Pretty brave

Baji keisuke x Reader

Summary: One act of reckless courage turns two classmates into something neither of them expected.

Warnings: None.

Here is my Masterlist!!

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The late afternoon sun had already started slipping behind the school buildings, turning the empty street behind campus into something quieter than it should’ve been. The kind of quiet that makes every footstep sound like it belongs to someone else’s problem.

Baji Keisuke didn’t look like himself today. Well, he did, technically. Same sharp eyes hidden behind thick fake glas glasses, same messy hair that refused to behave, forced into a neat low ponytail.

The same restless energy bottled up under his “don’t-notice-me” disguise. Not to forget to mention his very different outfit. Clean shirt, overly neat cardigan, even a book tucked under his arm like he was actually interested in studying instead of tearing through life at full speed.

A disguise. Not even really a bad one, he could pass as an actual nerd, as long as he doesn’t open his mouth.

And after a tough day at school hiding his real self behind this fake facade, he wanted nothing more than to walk home in peace, take a shower and go meet up with Kazutora.

But God had other plans for him today.

Three guys stepped out from the side alley. Not students from his school. Older. Loud in the way people are when they think they’re untouchable. One of them laughed as he looked Baji up and down.

“Hey, nerd. You lost?”

Baji didn’t answer right away. His fingers twitched once, like he was deciding whether his glasses had any right to survive this conversation.

He adjusted them instead. “Move.” That was all it took for the situation to tilt.

One of them stepped closer, grin sharpening. “Or what?”

The air tightened. Baji’s shoulders shifted slightly, the calm on his face thinning just enough to show what was underneath.

These punks really don’t know who he is. He tilted his head a little like he was about to take the glasses off. Like something was about to end badly for someone.

And then; A voice cut in. “Stop it!” Small. Shaky. But loud enough to interrupt the moment before it broke.

Everyone turned. She stood a few steps away, school bag clutched so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. A student from his class. The kind you’d barely notice in a hallway you are quiet, careful, and always keeping your head down.

Except now you were standing between him and them. Which made absolutely no sense.

“You should leave him alone,” you said, voice trembling but still pushing through it. “You’re not supposed to just… corner people like this.”

One of the thugs blinked, then laughed. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You flinched. It was obvious, you were really scared. Your body gave you away with every tiny shake in your hands. But you didn’t move. Didn’t step aside.

Behind you, Baji Keisuke went still.

Not because he needed protecting. Because no Girl ever did that. Not for him. Matter of fact, he does not know any girl that would do such a thing!

“Please,” you added, quieter now, but stubborn in a way that didn’t quite match your size at all. “Just go.”

The leader took a step toward you. That was when something changed in Baji’s expression.

Slowly, he lowered his hand from his glasses. But he didn’t move forward. He watched you instead. Like he was seeing something he didn’t have a name for yet.

The thug stopped right in front of you. “You really picked the wrong guy to play hero for.”

Your breath hitched, even if you didn’t want to show any weakness. For a second, it felt like your body might run away on autopilot.

But nothing happend.

Instead, you shut your eyes briefly praying for courage you didn’t actually fully have, and stood your ground anyway. And that tiny act of stubborn bravery snapped something in the air. Baji stepped forward. Just one step. Enough.

The thug noticed it immediately. “Oh? You gonna cry, nerd?”

Baji tilted his head slightly again, glasses catching the fading light. “I’d leave,” he said, calm as ever, “before you embarrass yourself. The tone wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

Something in it made the group hesitate, even just a fraction. The kind of hesitation people get when they suddenly remember they might not be the strongest person in the street. One of them clicked his tongue. “Tch. Whatever. Not worth it.”

They backed off slowly, still muttering, still trying to look like they chose to leave.

Until they were gone. Silence settled again. You stayed frozen for a moment longer, you felt like you couldn’t trust that the world had actually stopped being dangerous.

Then, your shoulders dropped.

And you turned around. Up close, you looked even smaller to Baji. Still shaking. Still breathing too fast. But your eyes were clear now, like you were trying to understand what you just did.

“Uh.. i-“ you started, then stopped. “You’re okay?” Asking him finally. Baji looked at you for a long second. Then he let out a short breath, almost like a laugh that didn’t fully make it out.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you said immediately, then looked away embarrassed. “But you looked like you needed it.”

That made him pause.

Because nobody ever assumed that about him either. His gaze softened just a fraction. “You think I’m a nerd,” he said.

You blinked. “Well… yeah?” Now you are getting confused. Whats this guys deal?

That got a real smile out of him. Small, but real. “…You’re kind of weird,” he said. Not that he is wrong but, the audacity. “I’m aware,” you mumbled, then quickly added, “but you’re still okay, right?”

He glanced at your small shaking hands. At the way you still hadn’t stepped away from where you had placed yourself between him and danger without thinking twice.

Yeah. He was definitely okay. Better than okay, actually. “I’m fine,” he said. A beat.

Then, quieter: “You’re braver than you look.” That made you freeze. Not scared this time.

Just surprised. And for the first time, you actually looked at him properly. not the “quiet class nerd.” not the glasses, not the act. but something underneath it that didn’t quite match her expectations.

Baji turned slightly as if to leave, then stopped. “…What’s your name?”

You hesitated. Then told him. And somewhere in that moment, something simple and unspoken settled into place, like a thread pulled tight between two people who weren’t supposed to notice each other at all. But now did.

-

From that day on, things didn’t exactly change loudly. It wasn’t like you suddenly became inseparable or started sitting together at lunch like it meant something obvious. It was quieter than that. More accidental. More like life kept placing you two in the same corners of the school without asking either of you for permission.

At first, it was just small acknowledgements. A nod in the hallway. A brief “you good?” when passing each other after class.

Once, you dropped your pen and he picked it up before anyone else noticed.

Another time, he pretended not to notice when you walked a little too close behind him just because the hallway felt crowded and you didn’t want to be pushed around. It was convenient, that was it. If he has a nice strong comfy looking broad back why not use it as a shield.. right?

You guys never talked about that day behind the school. Neither of you needed to.

But something had already been decided without words. From then on, you were… familiar. Not friends in the loud, obvious way. More like something softer that didn’t quite have a name yet.

Sometimes you’d find him sitting outside the school building, pretending to read. So you would sit a few steps away. Not interrupting. Just existing nearby.

And sometimes he’d actually talk. About nothing important. About teachers, boring tests, random nonsense that somehow made the silence feel less heavy. And sometimes, rarely but sometimes, he’d walk you part of the way home without saying why.

-

One afternoon, everything shifted again.

It was after school. The sky was soft, almost gold, the kind of light that makes everything feel slower than it really is.

You spotted him first.

Leaning against a vending machine near the station, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that didn’t match the version of him you usually saw at school.

He wasn’t wearing the neat disguise today. No cardigan. No careful shirt. No glasses. Just him. Messy hair falling the way it wanted. Sharp eyes that didn’t bother hiding anything. The kind of presence that made people unconsciously step aside when they passed him.

He looked… different. Not unfamiliar. Just real.

So you stopped walking. Kind of automaticly, like when you see something and can’t look away yet. For a second, you honestly thought you had the wrong person in mind.

Then he looked up. And saw you. That same lazy focus in his gaze sharpened slightly, like he recognized her instantly even without the “school version” between them.

“Hey, you’re staring,” he said.

Your brain really lagged behind your mouth. “You’re not wearing your nerd outfit.” That made him exhale something like a short laugh. “Nerd outfit?”

“You know what I mean,” you said quickly, suddenly aware of how small you felt under his normal presence. “The glasses. The- everything.”

He pushed off the vending machine and walked closer. Not threatening. Just… him, closing the space like it was normal.

“You look surprised,” he said. “I am surprised,” you had to admit. He tilted his head slightly. “Scared?”

“No,” you said fast, too fast, then even quicker corrected yourself, quieter. “No. Just… not used to it.” That made him pause for a second. Then his expression softened in a way you didn’t see often at school. Never actually.

“Good.” he said simply. A beat passed. Wind moved between them. Then he added, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, “You’re easier to talk to when you’re not trying to impress anyone.”

You blinked. “I’m not trying to-“

“You are,” he said, but not in a teasing way. More like observation. “Most people are.” That shut you up.

Not because you disagreed. Because it was annoyingly accurate. He glanced away for a moment, then back at her. “You going home?”

“…Yeah.” A short silence. Then, like it had already been decided somewhere in the background of their routine:

“I’ll walk with you.” he said. It wasn’t asked like a question. And you didn’t answer like it was optional. So they started walking. Side by side, not too close, not too far. At some point, you stole a glance at him again, still trying to reconcile the version of him from school with the one next to you right now.

“You know,” you said carefully, “you’re kind of different like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t look at her right away. “Which one do you prefer?” he asked. It wasn’t serious in tone. But it also wasn’t fully a joke. You thought about it longer than you expected yourself to.

Then, honestly: “This one feels more real.” And it did. “I would like to see this version more often.” You added quickly, hoping it would not sound too desperate but also make it sound genuine.

That made him quiet for a moment. Then he gave a small hum, almost approving.

“Good answer.” You walked a little further.

“We should go out more often.” He added casually, but with a meaning you grasped immediately.

And somewhere between the station lights and the slow fading sky, it stopped being about coincidence. From there on out, it was just understood. They were familiar.

And familiar, for people like them, was already something close to everything that mattered.

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A/o: My first favorite character from TR.

Thanks for reading!!

[mbruben-stein]

Tokyo Revengers SFW Alphabet: Keisuke Baji.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Baji is not soft in an obvious, storybook way, but he is very affectionate once you become one of his people. With you, his affection comes out rough-edged and instinctive, like slinging an arm over your shoulders, yanking you closer by your sleeve, or wordlessly putting himself between you and anything that looks remotely dangerous. He is the type to act like he is just being normal, like it means nothing, but everyone around him can see he treats you differently. He remembers the smallest things about you without trying, gets annoyed when other people make you uncomfortable, and watches you with that sharp, restless stare that always seems one second away from trouble. Baji is not clingy, but he is very physical; he likes being near you, brushing against you, flicking your forehead, tugging your hair, or dropping his weight against you just to hear your reaction.

The softer side of his affection usually happens when no one else is looking. He is surprisingly gentle when you are tired, hurt, or overwhelmed, and that is when you see how deeply he cares beneath all the chaos. He would grumble the whole time, but he would absolutely walk you home, sit beside you in silence, patch you up with clumsy hands, or shove his jacket at you before you can protest. Baji shows love through protection, loyalty, and presence more than sweet words, because saying exactly how he feels does not come naturally to him. Still, every now and then, usually in a low voice when it is just the two of you, he lets something honest slip out, and it hits harder because you know he means every word. With Baji, affection feels fierce, a little reckless, and unwavering; once he loves you, he loves you like you are something he would fight the world to keep safe.

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You probably don’t become Baji’s best friend in any normal way. It starts with chaos—maybe you step in when he’s about to get into a stupid fight, maybe you yell at him when everyone else backs off, or maybe you’re the only person reckless enough to laugh when he gives you that sharp, feral grin. At first, he acts like you annoy him on purpose, shoving your shoulder, stealing your food, showing up out of nowhere just to drag you into whatever nonsense he’s gotten himself into. But Baji notices people fast, and the moment he realizes you’re not scared of him, not using him, and not planning to leave when things get messy, he latches on hard. Your friendship would grow in that rough, unspoken way—late walks, hanging around while he pretends he doesn’t care that you came, and a hundred little moments where he starts treating your presence like something constant in his life.

As a best friend, Baji would be intense, loud, and unbelievably loyal. He’d tease you mercilessly, start arguments just to see your reaction, and act like he never needs help, but the second anyone else gives you trouble, he’s in front of you without hesitation. He’s the kind of friend who remembers the things you mention offhand, even if he acts dumb about it later, and he’d trust you with parts of himself most people never see—the thoughtful side, the guilt he carries, the way he quietly watches over the people he loves. With you, Baji would be weirdly clingy in his own way: showing up at your place uninvited, demanding you ride with him, dragging you into danger and then making sure you get home safe. He’d never say something soft in a straightforward way, but you’d know you matter by how fiercely he protects you, how quickly he looks for you in a crowd, and how, no matter how wild he is with everyone else, he always comes back to you.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Baji definitely acts like he is not the cuddly type at first. He would grumble if you called him clingy, flick your forehead, and tell you not to say dumb stuff like that, but the second you lean against him, he is not moving you away. He likes cuddling in a very Baji way—casual, rough around the edges, and like he is pretending it just happened by accident. You would notice that he always ends up pulling you closer with one strong arm, usually tucking you against his side or dragging you into his chest like it is the most natural thing in the world. He is warm, solid, and quietly possessive, the kind of person who acts annoyed while making sure you are as close to him as possible.

When Baji cuddles, he is not overly delicate, but there is a lot of hidden tenderness in it. He would rest his chin on your head, sling an arm over your waist, or pull you into his lap without warning, especially if he is in a lazy mood and wants you near him. If you are tired, he would let you bury your face into his shirt while his fingers lazily run through your hair or rub slow circles into your back, all while pretending he is not doing anything sweet. He is the type to hold you tighter when he feels protective or when he has had a long day, almost like having you in his arms helps settle the storm in him. And if you fall asleep on him, he is absolutely staying put, even if his arm goes numb, because there is no way he is waking you up once you trust him enough to relax like that.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Keisuke Baji does not grow up dreaming about a quiet, picture-perfect life, and for a long time, “settling down” sounds too much like being caged. He is restless by nature, all sharp grins, bad impulses, and the kind of energy that feels too big for four walls. But with you, it changes. Not because he becomes soft or suddenly tame, but because home starts meaning something different. It is not routine he wants; it is you waiting for him, your voice cutting through the noise in his head, your place becoming the one spot where he can throw himself onto the floor, steal your food, and exist without pretending to be tougher than he already is. Baji would never say he wants domesticity in a neat, polished way, but he absolutely becomes the type to linger around you, to complain if you are out too late, to act like your shared space is his territory in the most protective, possessive way. He settles down without realizing it, one small habit at a time, until loving you quietly becomes the steadiest thing he has ever done.

As for cooking and cleaning, Baji is a disaster first and useful second. He can cook, technically, but only in the reckless, instinctive way where he does not measure anything, cranks the heat too high, and leaves the kitchen looking like he fought it. He is the kind of guy who proudly hands you something surprisingly good while there is smoke in the background and three dirty pans in the sink. Cleaning is even worse. He is messy, forgetful, and absolutely the type to say he is “in the middle of cleaning” when he has really just moved his stuff into one pile. Still, if you are tired, sick, or overwhelmed, Baji tries—really tries. He will scrub dishes with a scowl, sweep badly, and grumble the entire time, but he does it because it is for you. In private, that is what loving Baji feels like: chaos, effort, and devotion wrapped together so tightly that even his clumsy attempts at being domestic feel unbearably sincere.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Baji wouldn’t be the type to drag out a breakup or play cruel mind games with you, because even if he’s reckless, his feelings are never fake; if he had to end things, it would probably come after days of acting more distant than usual, jaw tight, avoiding your eyes because he knows once you really look at him, his resolve might crack. He’d ask to see you somewhere quiet, away from the gang and away from anyone who could interrupt, and when you showed up, he’d look irritated more at himself than at you, shoving his hands in his pockets, hair falling in his face as he muttered that you deserve better than someone like him. Baji would try to sound blunt, almost harsh, because softness would make it harder, but the truth underneath would be obvious: he’s doing this to protect you, whether it’s from his dangerous life, the enemies around him, or the parts of himself he thinks will only hurt you in the end. He wouldn’t blame you, and he definitely wouldn’t make you beg for answers; instead, he’d force himself to be honest in the rough, ugly way that suits him, telling you that being with him means getting caught in things you shouldn’t have to carry. Even while breaking your heart, he’d still be watching your expression closely, memorizing it, hating himself for being the reason you look hurt. And when it was over, Baji would probably turn away first so you wouldn’t see how hard he was clenching his teeth, leaving with that same wild pride he always wears, because if Baji had to break up with his partner, he’d do it quickly, directly, and painfully honestly—while secretly hoping you’ll hate him enough to let him go.

F= Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Baji acts like commitment shouldn’t matter to him, like he’s too wild, too restless, too allergic to anything that sounds neat and permanent—but with you, it hits differently. He doesn’t fear being tied down nearly as much as he fears failing someone he loves. If he calls you his, he means it with his whole chest, in that intense, reckless Baji way where loyalty is basically a vow long before he ever puts a ring on your finger. He isn’t the type to give you polished speeches about forever, but you feel it in the way he always comes back to you, the way he gets protective without thinking, the way his voice turns strangely honest in quiet moments. To Baji, commitment isn’t soft or pretty it’s brutal, unwavering devotion, and once he decides you’re his future, there is no halfway.

As for marriage, Baji would probably want it faster than people expect once you’re both actually old enough and settled enough to make it real. He wouldn’t spend years planning some perfect timeline, because overthinking has never been his style; the moment he’s sure, he’d want to lock it in before life gets the chance to mess with it. His proposal would be impulsive but sincere, probably after a moment where he nearly loses you, scares himself, or just gets hit with that fierce certainty that he wants you beside him for the rest of his life. He’d grumble about formalities, complain through ring shopping, and act like ceremonies are a pain, but deep down he’d love calling you his fiancé because it proves something solid: out of all the chaos in his life, you’re the person he chose permanently.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionaly?)

Baji is the kind of gentle that catches you off guard, because it never looks delicate at first—his hands are rough, warm, and a little calloused from fighting, but when he touches you, it is always with surprising care, like he is constantly reminding himself not to be too much; he steadies you with a hand on your back when crowds get tight, fixes your jacket without a word, and cups your face like you are something precious he does not trust the world with. Emotionally, he is not gentle in a polished or poetic way, but in a raw, honest one—he notices when you are overwhelmed before you say anything, stays close without pushing, and defends your feelings as fiercely as he defends your safety. Baji is not the type to shower you in soft speeches, yet every quiet check-in, every instinct to stand between you and anything that might hurt you, every moment he lowers his voice just for you says the same thing: with everyone else, he may be reckless, loud, and wild, but with you, he tries so hard to be careful.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Baji does like hugs, but not in a sweet, obvious way that everyone gets to see. With most people, he acts too rough, too restless, too prideful to go around hugging anyone, so it can seem like he does not care for that kind of affection at all. But with you, it is different. Once he trusts you, hugs become one of those quiet habits he slips into without admitting how much he needs them. He is not clingy every second of the day, but he does pull you close pretty often, especially after a fight, after a long day, or anytime he feels keyed up and wants to ground himself with you nearby.

Baji’s hugs are strong, sudden, and a little messy, just like him. He usually grabs you by the shoulders or waist and tugs you into his chest before you can even react, like he already decided that is where you belong. Sometimes he buries his face against your hair or your neck and stays there longer than you expect, breathing hard and pretending he is not being soft when he absolutely is. If he is in a playful mood, his hugs come with teasing, a crooked grin, and enough force to nearly knock you off balance; if he is worried about you, they turn tighter, quieter, almost protective, like he is shielding you from the whole world. More than anything, Baji hugs you like letting go is the hardest part.

|= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Keisuke Baji does not say “I love you” fast - not because he is unsure, but because those words mean something permanent coming from him. With you, he would show it first in a hundred reckless, unpolished ways: walking you home without asking, putting himself between you and trouble on instinct, remembering the tiny things you mention, and getting weirdly irritated when you do not take care of yourself. Baji is not smooth, and he is definitely not the kind of guy to sit you down for some perfect confession early on; he would need time to trust the softness of what he feels, especially because loving someone makes him vulnerable in a way fighting never does. So when he finally says it, it is probably after you have already realized it yourself blurting out a rough, low “I love you, dumbass” in the middle of a raw, honest moment, like after an argument, after patching him up, or when he is hit with the terrifying realization that losing you would ruin him. Once he says it, though, he means it with his whole chest, and from then on, you never have to doubt it again.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Baji gets jealous fast, but not in a quiet, subtle way. With him, it’s immediate, sharp, and impossible to miss. The second he notices someone getting too comfortable with you, his whole mood changes - his jaw tightens, his eyes narrow, and that usual reckless grin turns into something far more dangerous. He is not the type to calmly sit back and “see what happens.” Even if he trusts you, that doesn’t stop the surge of protectiveness and irritation that hits him hard when someone else thinks they can have your attention. Baji’s jealousy is intense because he loves intensely; when he cares about you, he cares with his whole chest, and the idea of somebody trying to flirt with you or make a move puts him in a foul, territorial mood almost instantly.

When Baji’s jealous, he gets closer instead of pulling away. He’ll sling an arm over your shoulders, stand way too close, or cut into the conversation with a rough, “What’re you doing?” like he already knows he doesn’t like the answer. If the other person keeps pushing, Baji’s the kind to glare them down until they back off, and if they still don’t, he absolutely will start something. Later, when it’s just the two of you, he gets a little sulky under all that aggression - grumbling, asking why that person was talking to you so much, pretending he doesn’t care while very obviously caring a lot. He’d never admit he was jealous right away, but you’d know from the way he keeps you tucked close to his side, like he’s silently reminding the world that you’re his.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Baji’s kisses are never neat or carefully planned; they happen the same way he does everything else, all heat and instinct and sudden intensity. One second he is smirking at you with that sharp, reckless grin, and the next he is pulling you in by the waist or the back of your neck like he cannot stand being even a few inches away anymore. His kisses usually start rough, almost challenging, like he wants to overwhelm you a little just to see your reaction, but they always melt into something warmer once he realizes you are kissing him back just as hard. He likes kissing you on the mouth most because it feels direct and honest, but when he is softer than usual, he goes for your forehead, your temple, or the corner of your lips when he thinks you are being cute. If he is in a clingy mood, he presses quick kisses to your cheek and jaw between words, like he has too much feeling in him to keep it contained.

Baji likes to kiss places that make you react, so your neck is one of his favorites, especially when he can hear the way your breathing changes because of him. He also likes kissing your knuckles or the inside of your wrist in rare quiet moments, though he would act like he was not being sweet if you pointed it out. As for where he likes being kissed, Baji secretly loves it when you kiss his face in ways that catch him off guard, like his cheek, the bridge of his nose, or right beside his mouth when he is pretending not to want attention. He especially likes when you kiss his hairline or run your fingers through his hair and kiss his forehead after a fight, because it makes him go quiet in that rare way that means he feels safe with you. And of course, he loves being kissed on his lips, hard and sure, because with you he does not want hesitation; he wants to feel chosen.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

Baji is the kind of person who looks like he’d scare every kid in the room, but the second a little one waddles up to him, he goes weirdly soft without even realizing it; you notice how he crouches down to their level, lets them tug on his hair or poke at his sharp canines while he acts all offended, and somehow ends up becoming their personal jungle gym by accident. He’s not polished or naturally “gentle” in the usual way, but he’s fiercely attentive, always keeping one eye on them, catching them before they trip, scaring off anyone who makes them cry, and pretending he’s only helping because “they’re annoying.” Around children, Baji is loud, playful, and a little chaotic, teaching them silly games, letting them climb all over him, and grinning when they laugh, and you can tell he’d be absurdly protective if anyone upset them because underneath all that rough, reckless energy, he has a huge heart for anyone small, vulnerable, and trusting enough to love him.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Baji are never neat or quiet; they start with tangled sheets, his long black hair all over the place, and his arm thrown heavily over your waist like even half-asleep he’s making sure you’re still there. He grumbles when you try to get up too early, pulling you back against his chest with a sleepy frown and a rough, “Five more minutes,” even though it usually turns into twenty. If he’s awake first, he acts like he’s not being affectionate, but he’ll wordlessly shove a drink or some convenience-store breakfast into your hands, sit too close beside you, and complain about the morning while making sure you’ve eaten. Sometimes he’s restless, already itching for movement, pacing around while tying his hair back and throwing you lazy grins with those sharp canines showing, but around you his chaos softens; the mornings feel warm, low-energy, and oddly intimate, full of half-mumbled teasing, sleepy touches, and the quiet kind of care Baji would never say out loud but shows in every little thing he does for you.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Baji are never quiet in the normal sense, but they always feel strangely safe, because even when he drags you onto his bike for some impulsive late-night ride or pulls you along to sit on a rooftop with convenience store snacks and a stupid grin on his face, there is this steady kind of warmth in the way he keeps you close; he is the type to act wild all day and then, once it is just the two of you, lean against you like he has been carrying too much for too long, grumbling about nonsense, picking playful fights just to hear you argue back, and wordlessly throwing his jacket over your shoulders when the air gets cold, all sharp teeth and rough edges until you reach for his hand and he goes quiet, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he is reminding himself you are really there, and by the end of the night you always realize that with Baji, love is never said gently, but it is shown in every protective glance, every reckless little adventure, and every moment he refuses to let you walk home alone.

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Baji would not tell you everything about himself all at once. At first, getting close to him would feel like trying to catch hold of smoke he is there, loud and reckless and constantly in your space, but the real parts of him stay tucked behind sharp grins and stupid jokes. He would start revealing things only after he decides you are steady enough to stay, usually after you have seen him at his worst and did not flinch away. It would begin with small, almost careless scraps: a random story from when he was a kid, a complaint about school, an offhand mention of Mikey or Chifuyu, the kind of detail he pretends means nothing even though he is secretly watching your reaction. With Baji, trust is not built through soft speeches or neat confessions. It is built when you sit beside him in the quiet after a fight, when you patch up his knuckles without nagging, when you understand that sometimes his silence is not rejection it is him deciding whether it is safe to hand you something real.

Once Baji starts letting you in, it still would not come out in one clean confession. He is too guarded for that, and too used to carrying things alone. Instead, he would reveal himself in pieces over time, usually when he is tired, worked up, or caught off guard by how much he wants you to understand him. One night he might admit he hates people seeing him as stupid. Another time he might talk about Toman with a kind of fierce, aching loyalty that makes it obvious how much of his heart is tied up in protecting the people he loves. The heavier things his guilt, his fears, the way he takes on pain like it is his job - would take the longest, because those are the parts he thinks might make you look at him differently. If Baji ever told you something deeply personal, it would be blunt, low-voiced, and almost frustratingly casual, like he is tossing you a piece of his heart and daring you to make a big deal out of it. He opens slowly, but once he does, every truth he gives you feels important because you know he did not say it lightly.

P= Patience (How easily angered are they?)

You figure out pretty quickly that Baji is dangerously easy to provoke, but only in certain ways he’s not the type to snap over every little inconvenience, but disrespect, fake bravado, underhanded behavior, or anyone messing with the people he cares about will set him off almost instantly. He has this restless, explosive energy where his anger burns hot and fast, like he’s acting before the thought fully settles, so if someone mouths off to you, insults Toman, or tries to pull something sneaky, he’s already halfway to throwing the first punch with that wild grin on his face. But with you, it’s a little different; he’ll grumble, glare, and act annoyed if you tease him or tell him to calm down, yet he has more patience for you than he does for almost anyone else, mostly because deep down he likes that you’re one of the few people who can get away with pushing his buttons and still make him cool off before things go too far.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Baji is the kind of person who acts like he forgets half of what you say, but that is honestly just because he looks so chaotic on the outside. You’ll mention something small in passing - your favorite drink, the name of a stray cat you like, the fact that you hate crowded trains and weeks later he’ll remember it at the weirdest, most unexpected moment. He is not the type to sit there nodding politely and asking a million soft questions, but he listens far more closely than people give him credit for. If it matters to you, it sticks with him. He might forget obvious things like dates or what time you said to meet him, but the emotional details, the things tied to your habits, your comfort, your likes and dislikes? Those stay. Baji is deeply observant beneath all that reckless energy, so he remembers you in a way that feels almost startling, like he has been paying attention the whole time even while acting distracted.

What makes it even more intense is that Baji would not bring up those details in a sweet, obvious way he would just use them. You’d be cold and suddenly he is shoving his jacket at you without a word because he remembered you always forget to dress for the weather. You’d stare at some dessert too long and he would grumble before buying it, already knowing it is your favorite because you mentioned it once three months ago. He probably does forget random surface-level stuff sometimes, especially if he is busy, injured, or caught up in Toman problems, but he does not forget you. Not really. Baji remembers the things that build a person, the little pieces that make you you, and because he cares so fiercely, those details become permanent in his mind even if he pretends they are not.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Baji’s favorite moment in your relationship is always the quiet aftermath of his chaos those late evenings when he shows up at your place bruised, grinning like he didn’t just nearly get himself killed, and you make him sit still while you clean the cuts on his face and hands; he acts annoyed, complains that you fuss too much, and tries to joke his way out of it, but secretly he lives for the way your hands are gentle with him, the way your voice softens when you tell him to stop moving, and the way you look at him like he’s more than the violence everyone else sees. For someone as reckless and wild as Baji, being cared for by you in those small, quiet moments means everything, because that’s when he feels it most clearly that no matter how hard he fights, where he goes, or what role he has to play, he can always come back to you and be wanted, understood, and safe.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Keisuke Baji is intensely protective of you, but not in a soft, subtle way; with him, it is immediate, physical, and impossible to miss. The second he senses a threat, he steps in front of you like it is instinct, shoulders squared, grin sharp, already ready for a fight before you can even ask him not to. He is the type to walk on the street side, keep an eye on who is watching you, and remember the faces of anyone who made you uncomfortable. Baji would protect you by taking the danger onto himself first, even if it means getting hurt, because in his mind your safety comes before his pride, his comfort, and sometimes even his own common sense. He would also be surprisingly perceptive about quieter dangers too; if somebody was lying to you, manipulating you, or trying to corner you emotionally, Baji would catch on faster than people expect and shut it down in his own blunt, aggressive way.

At the same time, Baji would not want you to protect him by trying to fight his battles for him or throwing yourself into danger beside him, because that would scare him more than anything. The way he likes to be protected is gentler and more personal: patching him up without making a big deal of it, grabbing his sleeve and making him stop when he is too reckless, reminding him that he does not always have to bleed to prove he cares. He would act annoyed if you fussed over him, maybe grumble and tell you he is fine, but secretly he would love knowing you are someone who stays, someone who notices when he is exhausted, angry, or carrying too much alone. More than brute strength, Baji wants loyalty, honesty, and that stubborn kind of care that keeps choosing him even when he is difficult, because deep down, being protected to him means being understood and not abandoned.

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Baji would put in a messy, intense, very him kind of effort he’s not the type to plan polished, picture-perfect dates with reservations and matching outfits, but if it’s for you, he’s showing up early, dragging you somewhere fun, loud, or meaningful, and making sure nobody ruins your time together. Anniversaries would matter more to him than he’d ever admit; he might forget the “proper” way to celebrate, but he’d remember the exact day, get weirdly serious about it, and give you something rough around the edges but deeply personal, like a charm, food he knows you love, or some dumb little object that reminded him of you and never left his pocket. His gifts wouldn’t always be expensive or elegant, but they’d be heartfelt and chosen with sharp, surprising attention, because Baji notices more than people think. In everyday tasks, he’d be inconsistent in a chaotic way sometimes lazy, sometimes reckless, sometimes acting like chores are beneath him but the second you need help, he’s there without hesitation, carrying your things, walking you home, fixing problems before you can ask, and doing all the small protective boyfriend things like it’s instinct. Loving you wouldn’t make him softer exactly, but it would make him effortful, and with Baji, that means giving you every piece of loyalty, time, and care he has, even if he wraps it up in teasing, stubbornness, and that wild grin of his.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Baji’s worst habits would wear on you fast if you were close to him he has a reckless streak that makes him act first and think never, so you’d constantly be dragged into the aftermath of fights, impulsive decisions, and half-baked plans he swears he can handle alone. He’s terrible at communicating when something actually matters, brushing off your concern with a grin or a dumb joke, and when he’s upset, he has a habit of shutting you out completely instead of admitting he’s struggling. He can also be stubborn to the point of selfishness, deciding what’s “best” for you without asking, especially if he thinks keeping secrets or pushing you away will protect you. Add in how messy, disorganized, and careless he can be in everyday life, plus how quick his temper is when someone gets under his skin, and loving Baji would sometimes mean loving someone who makes things harder before he ever makes them better.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Baji isn’t the type to stand in front of a mirror for an hour or obsess over every little detail, but he absolutely cares about how he looks just not in a polished, neat way. With you, it’s obvious his appearance matters to him because he likes looking intimidating, wild, and strong; he wants that sharp grin, messy black hair, and rough-around-the-edges image to hit exactly the way it should. He’ll act like he doesn’t care if his uniform is half-buttoned or his hair is in his face, but if you casually fix a strand for him or tell him he looks good, he gets quietly smug about it for the rest of the day. He’s more concerned with having presence than being “pretty,” so while he won’t fuss over fashion or grooming like it’s a serious routine, he still takes care of the things that make him feel like himself and if you’re the one noticing, he cares even more than he lets on.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Baji would never say “I need you” out loud because that kind of honesty would make him feel way too exposed, but yes, he’d absolutely feel incomplete without you in a way that would haunt him when you’re gone; not because he’s weak, but because you become one of the only people who see past the violence, the recklessness, and the savage grin to the loyal, self-sacrificing heart underneath. You’d be the person who makes him slow down for a second, the one he looks for in every crowd, the one he instinctively wants to protect even when you’re strong enough to stand on your own, and over time your presence would sink so deeply into his life that everything would feel slightly off without you there—meals would taste blander, fights would feel emptier, victories would matter less. He’d still be Baji, still wild, still charging headfirst into danger, but with you gone there’d be this restless edge to him, like a part of him is missing and he doesn’t know how to name it; so no, he wouldn’t fall apart completely, but he would feel your absence like a missing piece in his chest, because once Baji loves you, he loves you in a way that becomes part of who he is.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Random headcanon: Baji secretly feeds stray cats after school, and even though he swears he doesn’t care about them, they always come running the second they hear his voice.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Baji wouldn’t be able to stand anything fake about you, from fake kindness to fake loyalty and fake tears - all of it would piss him off fast, because more than anything, he values honesty and knowing where someone truly stands. He wouldn’t like clinginess that turns controlling, either; if you tried to box him in, monitor every move he made, or guilt him for being fiercely devoted to his friends, he’d pull away hard. Cowardice, cruelty toward weaker people, and underhanded behavior would disgust him too, especially if you were the type to smile to someone’s face and talk behind their back later. In general, Baji wouldn’t have patience for people who are shallow, overly polished, or obsessed with appearances, and in a partner, he’d hate someone who treated his loyalty like a game, disrespected the people he loves, or expected him to become calmer, softer, or easier to handle just to make them comfortable you’d need to accept that he’s wild, intense, and rough around the edges, not try to tame him into someone he’s not.

Z= Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Baji sleeps like he does everything else messy, intense, and without much warning. When you stay with him, you notice he fights sleep at first, acting like he is not tired even when his eyes are heavy, but the second he finally crashes, he is out cold. He sprawls across the bed like it is his territory, one arm usually thrown over your waist or tugging you close without even waking up, like some stubborn instinct to keep you near. He tosses around a lot, kicks blankets off, and mumbles half-formed nonsense in his sleep, sometimes with a faint frown like he is still ready to swing at somebody even in dreams. On rough nights, though, when old guilt or stress sits too heavy on him, he sleeps lighter and clings to you more, forehead pressed into your shoulder, calmer only when he can feel you there. He would never admit it out loud, but your presence is one of the few things that actually helps him rest.

[the-bofurin-digest]

NSFW ALPHABET TOMA HIRAGI

18+ content below! All characters in my work aged up

Fem reader in mind

Warnings: sexual themes, kinks some might find appealing (laughter bondage, wax play), honestly though pretty mild

Each letter has a small drabble with it of smut! Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

~Hiragi is rough on you at times and he knows it. Sometimes he can go overboard so expect a lot of tender aftercare and soft loving from him afterwards. Once the two of you catch your breath he is more than happy to run a nice warm bath and pamper you in it for the rest of the night. If all you want to do is stay in bed, he’s right there with a warm rag cleaning you up and afterwards he’s holding you as close as he can. (ask him for a massage, he’s great at that.)

"How does that feel?" Hiragi mumbles in your ear before slowly peppering soft kisses along your neckline."Is the water warm enough, babe?"

You sigh, nodding as you lean your back against his chest. The bathroom suddenly becomes a lot steamier as you notice his hands slowly traveling down your body. "Hiragi, I'm too sore for another round." You groan, but the knot slowly twisting in your stomach at the thought of him touching you once more says otherwise.

Hiragi chuckles, leaving a small love mark on the side of your neck. "Don't worry." He smirks slightly as his fingers reach their target, causing you to gasp lightly. "M'only going to massage you a bit, help with the soreness a bit. Just relax." He sighs, leaning back against the tub so that you lean more comfortably on him. 

"Sure you are." You laugh softly, but you can't help spreading your legs further for him to explore.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

~His arms are meaty, strong and look great when he's flexing them while hovering over you in the bed. The way your nails desperately cling to them with each movement,leaving small marks all over then

- Hiragi loves your gorgeous face. The way your eyes glimmer with needy tears, your cute scrunched up nose, and your lips out in the cutest little pout turned up toward him when you aren't getting exactly what you want. He loves bringing his fingers toward your chin, tilting your face back to look at his for every moment he is able to 

“You are so gorgeous like this.” Hiragi hums, his hands lightly holding your chin in a firm but loving grip. “Don’t stop looking at me like this, ever.” He groans softly, hips slowly continuing to roll into yours.

You whimper softly as his thumb traces over your bottom lip. You can’t help but cheekily stick the tip of your tongue out, licking the pad of his thumb. “Hiragiiii.” You whine, pleading eyes looking up into his as he groans. “M.need more of you, baby.” Your sweet and innocent expression always makes him willing to do anything for you.

Hiragi smirks, giving an extra hard thrust that made you yelp in pleasure. Your hands instinctively reach up, gripping his forearms to try and grab yourself. “You sure you can handle more of me, baby?” He growls in your ear before gently kissing along your jawline.

“Please.” Was all you could manage to get out before his movements become faster and harder, taking your breath away just like you always manage to take his.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-When it comes to how you finish, Hiragi loves when you are riding his thigh and just completely let go when the pleasure hits you. The mess you make on him in that moment is worth the effort it takes. When it's his turn, Hiragi can’t think of anything better than covering your chest in his cum. There is something about you looking up so innocent and needy at him when your tits are coated in the evidence of your naughtiness from him. Of course, nothing beats filling you with him as the two of you cum together over and over again in a full night of fucking and watching as it slowly drips out of you while you lay there completely spent. That’s his favorite by far.

Hiragi groans as he finally pulls out, the wet squelching noise coming from between the two of you causing him to shudder.”Damn baby,” He smirks down at you, breathing slightly heavier than normal as he tries to gather himself. “What was that, 4 times? 5 maybe?”

“6.” You groan. You try to sit up but are met with Hiragi’s hand placed firmly on your shoulder. He gently presses you back against the pillow, eyes darting to your core. “Really? Hiragi I have to go clean up! These are fresh sheets.”

“Not yet.” Hiragi growls, his fingers dipping to scoop up some of the mess dripping out of you. You moan softly as you feel him slowly shove the collection of cum back into you. “Wanna keep it like this for as long as possible.” He mumbles, leaning down to kiss you.

All you can do is sigh, accepting another round was inevitable at this point.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-Hiragi has a pretty solid collection of retro dirty magazines. Almost no one knows about them so naturally when you discover them one day without his knowledge, the only thing on your mind is how often he looks at them. The man appreciates a vintage nude, almost as much as he appreciates you. Initiate a plot to test him when you go and take a few sexy polaroids of  and slip them between a few of the magazine pages

“Woah! Hiragi when did this get in there?!” Matsumoto stares wide eyed at a small photo he was holding in his hands. It had slipped out from between the pages of one of his favorite issues of “Motorchicks weekly” that he likes to steal when the boys are hanging out at Hiragi’s place.”Damn.. She’s hot.”

“Matsumoto, you;ve thumbed through that magazine so many times. Pretty sure there isn’t a newly discovered hot-WOAH.” Yanagida stops, looking over Matsu’s shoulder wide eyed. “Yo you didn’t tell us Y/N modeled!”

Hiragi quickly grabs the picture, looking down at the photo. You were posing on his bed, wearing nothing but his favorite leather jacket, which wasn’t covering up much. When the hell did you even find the time to do this? His face was completely read and his stomach started its usual nonsense as he quickly pocketed the photo, replacing it with his packet of gas-kun 10s.

“Quick! Maybe there’s more!” Matsumoto snatched up a few of the magazines, eagerly flipping through the pages as a few more polaroids fly out.”Wait there-”

“Get the hell out of here you pigs!” Hiragi dives for the photos, snatching them and the magazines from the other two men. “Go wait for me in the living room!” He orders, hands full of polaroids and his special books. Of course, how were you supposed to know that Hiragi’s friends knew about his collection? Still, the payback when you got home later would be very well earned.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-A man of few romances and even fewer run ins with intimacy, I think his first hand experiences are somewhat limited. He likes to save those kinds of things with someone he trusts and has strong feelings for. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t had a grope here or a bit of fun there. But the full experience is reserved for you. What he doesn’t have in experience, he makes up for by being attentive and following your natural reactions to his touch, his words, and the ways he loves you. Hiragi is amazing at listening to you and respecting your comfort, even if its something he enjoys but you do not. 

“Its.. a little uncomfortable.” You laugh nervously, shifting around in the new position Hiragi had been eager to try with you. “It doesn't hurt or anything it just doesn't feel that good for me but if you want, I'm sure I can get used to it for y-” 

Before you could finish your sentence, Hiragi pulls out and gently moves to hover over you, shaking his head. “Told ya, if you don't like something we ain't gonna do it. What's the point of it if it doesn't feel good for both of us?” he shifts your leg up against him as he leans down, kissing you softly as he pushes back into you. 

“Th-thought you said missionary was boring?” You manage to get out before another light moan escapes your lips. 

“I never said it was boring. I only said I wouldn't mind trying other positions.” Hiragi chuckles as he slowly rolls his hips into yours, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair from your face. “But if you don't like it, we go back to this every time. Got it?” 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-Face down, ass up? I'm a hoe for the idea that Hiragi absolutely ascends to heaven every time his partner is bent over for him. There's something about watching the way their back arches while his hands dig into their hips that just gets Hiragi going and once your ass starts jiggling as he thrusts in and out of you, it's game over. His big hands massage over your rear and back as he watches his cock slide in and out of you and he swears if he dies right in that moment ( highly probable if you wiggle your hips unexpectedly as he thrusts in) he'd be dying the happiest man alive. 

Hiragi nearly finished as you grind your ass against him desperately, whimpering and displeased with his slow pace. “Shiiiittt baby.” His head falls back slightly as he pushes himself deeper inside you, giving your cunt a few sharp jabs as hit tip kisses your cervix. “Just got started and you're already doing that bratty shit ya do.” He breaths, continuing his slow and lazy thrusts as he watches himself disappear inside you over and over. 

“But I thought you liked it?” You moan as he fills you with his cock repeatedly, still with that same, stupid slow rhythm as before. “God baby why are you going so slow? Driving me crazy.” You add, groaning in slight frustration. 

“Can't help it, sorry.” Hiragi chuckles. His hands grip your hips harder and he can't help but smirk at your sudden tension, tasting the anticipation as you know what was about to come. “Just admiring the pretty view, princess.” 

Before you could respond, Hiragi began pounding you into the mattress from behind, the sudden change of pace causing you to nearly choke as you struggled to catch your breath. “f-f-fuck!” You manage to gasp before burying your face in the pillow. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-Poor Hiragi struggled the first few times in terms of “letting loose”. He views bringing you pleasure as a job, and he takes it very seriously. He's too busy analyzing every moan, whimper, and movement you make so that he knows exactly how you feel. Eventually, something happens during sex that shows him it's okay to not take it too seriously and to just enjoy himself with you. He still a little anxious about it, but not to the extent he was when starting your physical relationship. 

“Mm. Ya know, you're really cute when you snort like that.” Hiragi chuckles, nuzzling his face against your forehead and peppering it in a few light kisses as he slowly continues rocking his hips against yours, cock still buried firmly inside you. “Think it's the sexiest one yet. 

You look up at him, face still flushed partially from embarrassment and partially from your unexpected orgasm he just pushed you through.”Sh-shut up, Ragi.” You grumble, burying your face in his chest. “Wasn't..snort. Trying to moan.. Air got stuck..That's all..” 

Your muffled explanation causes him to laugh a little more this time. “M’sorry baby.” He whispers softly in your ear, tilting your head up so that your eyes met his as he brushes his lips softly against yours. “Just teasin’ you a little bit, that's all.” 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Modest body hair Hiragi supremacy. The only man I will insist has some hot body hair and uses it appropriately to his advantage when attracting his partner. He keeps it trimmed nice and tidy from chest to balls, but it's perfectly aligned for your hands to lightly wander over when the two of you are cuddled up naked in bed. Hiragi doesn't bleach his body hair, so it's nice and dark and easy to follow. He keeps everything below the belt trimmed so it's less irritating for both parties involved.

Your fingers lightly dance around the little curls of hair along Hiragi's chest, looking up innocently at him. “I only said if you wanted help dying them to match your hair, I could help you.” You respond to his previous scoff after you had mentioned the difference in color on his head versus the rest of his body. “I don't see what's so incredible about asking.” 

“Why does it need to match? You're the only one who sees it anyways.” He grunts, face slightly pink in response to your teasing. “Does it… bother you that much?” He asks, becoming slightly self conscious all of sudden. 

You immediately pick up on his tone and smile, shaking your head as your fingertips dance along the thin line of dark hairs trailing along his stomach. “Nu uh. It's fine. Was just teasing you.” You mumble, leaning over so your lips meet his as your hands continue wandering over his body. You can't help but smirk against his lips as you feel his muscles tighten and his sharp inhale as your hand travels beyond the line of hair on his naval. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-Hiragi is rough around the edges, but when it comes to sex with someone he tries to make it as meaningful as possible. Even during a quick fuck, he manages to make you feel like the center of his universe. He's not the greatest with words when it comes to that stuff, but his light touches and the way he looks at you in these moments conveys his feelings towards you just fine.

Hiragi brushes a few strands of hair back from your eyes as he continues to slowly roll his hips into yours over and over. The feeling of him making his way deeper and deeper into your dripping cunt, how tightly your walls clench around him as you call out his name like a soft prayer over and over has the man seeing stars. He peppers small kisses along your jawline as your hands slowly rake through his hair, the feeling causing him to shudder. 

“I-I love you!” You whimper, head rolling back as your declaration is followed by a loud moan as his hips suddenly jerk forward in response, his cock head kissing your cervix. “Oh Fuck!” 

All he can do is stare down at you with half lidded eyes, hoping he can eventually find the words to respond the way you deserve as he continues making love to you. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-As much as the extracurricular would probably reduke his stress levels, I don't see him as much of a masturbater as far as doing it alone. He will mess around with you over the phone while stroking himself, or send you videos in little sexting sessions if you get him worked up enough in the morning. But it's very rare for Hiragi to practice any form of self care, much less the kind that brings him that sort of pleasure.

“...You want me to come over at midnight for sex?..” Hiragi read your message and sighs, responding as he tries to ignore the throbbing in his boxer shorts as he thinks of you all cuddled up in bed, looking cute and tired and probably naked. He knows you hate sleeping in clothes. 

“No. I was just wondering if maybe you wouldn't mind helping me right now.. and then tomorrow coming over for cuddling and a movie. Since I woke you up.” And sex. But he'll leave that last part out of his message. 

“You have plenty of pictures and videos I've sent you lol. Why can't you just use those?” 

Hiragi feels his face burning in embarrassment as he groans out in frustration. “i know, I'm sorry. I just- it's hard to do alone. I would try if I could. I'm sorry baby for waking you up. It's just been a stressful day.” He hits send, setting the phone down next to him as he covers his face with his hands, sighing heavily. The phone lights up a few moments later and he picks it up, inhaling sharply at the video of your pretty pink cunt currently residing on his screen, your fingers slowly circling the entrance as you spread your slick around. 

“You're lucky I had a bad day too.” Your next message read. 

Hiragi can't help but chuckle softly as he pulls himself from his boxers, his tip already leaking beads of precum.”I know. I'm one lucky man.” He replies, the tension in his body immediately beginning to melt away with each stroke. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Wax Play- completely self indulgent, just imagining him laying in bed, loosely tied up and surrounded by candles with wax drying on his chest while he moans in pleasure when you ride him just dripping more on him does something to me and I don't regret it.

-Size kink- seeing a partner's small hands wrapped around him, or your tiny form resting in his arms as he cages you to the bed will absolutely put Hiragi at your mercy. 

-Light bondage - tie him up, let him tie you up, the man doesn't care. His only request is get the fluffy handcuffs because he's going to practically beg to be at YOUR mercy for hours. He's the one locked to the bed frame, so why are you feeling like the one who is being tied down as he practically begs you to keep going. 

-Not sure if this is necessarily a clothes fetish, but seeing you in one of his shirts and nothing else does some things to Hiragi that he can't discuss with anyone but his inner voice. Something sexy about the way his shirt frames your body as you walk around his apartment like you own the place after you've stayed the night with him can guarantee you at least 3 more rounds on various surfaces. 

“We aren't done yet.” Hiragi growls deeply, bucking his hips up into you as you attempt to lift yourself off him for what felt like the millionth time that night. “Please baby.. Need ya.” He adds, voice slightly more desperate as the handcuffs rattle on the bedposts. 

“Hiragi, we've been at it for hours.” You groan, hand resting on his chest to steady yourself as you slowly continue to ride him to avoid his deep thrusts. “At least let me uncuff you so you can take over. I'm so tired.” You begin to reach up to unlock the cuff but are stopped by another quick jostle of his hips. “Dammit Hiragi, do that again and–” you stop when you glance back down at him, his eyes pathetic and wide as he silently pleads for you to stop. 

“Fine. But you owe me a massage tomorrow.” You grumble, unable to tell him no when he gives you that sad, puppy dog look. And you have to admit..there's something hot about having him under you this way, even if he acts like a spoiled brat.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-Couch lover by day, and bed by night. Hiragi is a simple man, and honestly any place is fine with him as long as he's got you riding his cock. But there's something special about lazy afternoon cunt stuffing sessions on the couch that he thoroughly can't explain. But give Hiragi a mattress and your body, and he's happy to pound you right through it for the rest of the night. 

“So tight for me.” Hiragi moans in your ear, thrusting slowly as he lifts your leg up to rest on his thigh. The two of you lay on your side on the couch, the movie you started playing in the background long forgotten. “Feels so good like this baby. Might have to stay like this all day.” he adds as his grip on your ass tightens, pulling you closer together. 

You can't help the small yelp that escapes you as he presses himself deeper, trying to stop you from falling off the edge. “if we are gonna do this the rest of the day, can we at least move this to the bedroom?” You giggle, your free hand holding onto the couch behind him. 

Hiragi smirks, eyes half lidded as her continues to slowly fuck into you. “Eventually yeah.” He mumbles, leaning in to kiss you slowly. “But, for right now we are gonna stay right where we are.” He slowly rolls into his back, directing you on top of him without pulling out of your wet, tight cunt. “There. Now you won't have to worry about falling off.” 

“My hero.” You sighs, slowly taking control of the rhythm you take his cock, his hands holding onto your hips as he helps guide you up and down. 

“Just love being close to ya like this.” He moans, head relaxing back into the couch cushion as he begins to feel the pleasure builds up even more. “We’ll move to bed later, promise.” 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Seeing you doing things around the apartment and wearing nothing but his loose T-shirt and your undies. Just the two of you having a nice and lazy day is exciting for him. He also won adminit, but he secretly gets hot under the collar when he sees you scolding someone else or even that one time you decked a guy for getting too close before Hiragi could step in. Your feisty side and carefree spiritedness are big turn ons for our anxious little walking antacid case.

Hiragi adjusts his pants, watching as you glide around the kitchen making breakfast.”You should put some pants on so the grease won't splatter on your legs.” He mumble, trying to get you to show some mercy. Despite his best efforts, he can't take his eyes off you as you continue cooking his bacon.

“I'm fine.” You roll your eyes, used to his weird requests and overprotective comments.”It's too hot to put pants on.” You him, continuing to hum to the tone on the radio playing lightly in the background. “How do you want you -oh!” You are cut off by Hiragi picking you up and setting you on the counter, his knee between your legs as he grips onto your hips. “What the hell are you doing?! The bacons gonna burn!” 

“Told ya you should have put pants on.” He growls, lips nipping their way down your neck as your hips began slowly rocking along his thigh. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-Will not hurt you on purpose in any way, shape, or form. To him, you are delicate and soft. That's not to say he will holding back when pounding you into the mattress. But don't expect him to spank you or grip you too hard (at least on purpose) 

“Mm.. M'sorry baby.” Hiragi mumbles, kissing down your neck as his fingers trace over the freshly blooming bruises along your thighs where half an hour earlier his fingers were gripping as he filled you over and over full. “Must have gotten carried away. You feeling alright? Need anything?” 

You hum in response, completely spent and happy as your fingers lazily run through his hair. “Hiragi I'm fine. Told you it's okay to be a little rough. I can handle it.” You smile at him softly as he continues peppering you in gentle kisses. 

Hiragi chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin along your neck. “I know. I just don't want to overdo it. Hate seeing ya beat up.” He gently nips along your collarbone, leaving fresh little marks. “Except these. I like these ones.” He smirks up at you mischievously. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-you are the only spicy lil thing Hiragi can eat that doesn't cause indigestion. He can be between your legs for 24 hours and still be ready to devour you the moment you whimper for him. At first, Hiragi was hesitant , but like everything else he learned through your reactions. Sit on his face, squish his head with your thighs, coat him in your wetness. As far as receiving goes, he can't get enough of slowly filling your throat over and over while your pretty eyes look up at him, glistening with tears and filled with determination. LET HIM FINISH ON YOUR FACE AND/OR CHEST AND THE MAN IS ALL YOURS FOR LIFE. 

“Sit.” He demands again as you hover nervously over his head, legs on either side as he grips your thighs. “Need ya right here, on my face sweetheart.” 

“Are you sure you can handle me smothering you like that?” You giggle, the uncertainty and self consciousness apparent in your voice. 

“Am I not one of the 4 Heavenly Kings of Bofurin? Known for my strength?” He scoffs playfully, tilting his head to kiss your inner thigh. 

“Yeah and?” 

“And are you not this kings beautiful queen?”

“Hiragi I don't think this is actually a monarchy so n-” 

“And doesn't every queen deserve a throne?” He ignores her last sentence, looking up at her with a slight pout. “Am I not good enough to be your throne?” 

“I thought you were the king? How can you be the-ohhhh…” you are cut of when Hiragi licks a slow and sensual stripe up your slit, allowing him to lower you onto his tongue fully.”..The throne and king…” You manage to get out, gripping the headboard as his mouth slowly begins working your clit. Hiragi just chuckles, his warm breath spurring you on even more. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-Starts out nice and slow, hitting every spot inside you at the perfect agonizing angle for pleasure. But as your moans start to become louder and louder his movements become far more desperate and he moves harder and faster to draw more of those pretty sounds from between your lips. He always wonders why he's so sore and tired the next day, if only he saw how fast and hard he was taking you the night before.

It's a miracle the neighbors haven't knocked yet, considering the fact Hiragi has been pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you for the last hour as he mercilessly rams his swollen, hard cock into you. “Riiiight there baby. Scream my name again, pretty little thing.” He groans, his head rolling back in pleasure. “Fuck, gonna drive me crazy, can't stop fuckin’ you like this.” 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

-Loves a good quick fuck as long as the two of you are left completely satisfied and you are walking away knowing how much he loves you. Hiragi doesn't want you to think he's taking these little moments of intimacy for granted. Every touch between you two, no matter how small or how short, means the world to him and he wants you to know that.

Your heart flutters as Hiragi continues whispering words of praise and love in your ear, the broom closet the two of you managed to find when you dropped off his lunch this afternoon. You know he forgot it on purpose but you didn't mind. Anything to see him for a few extra minutes and brighten his day. 

What you didn't expect was to be pulled away into a small closet, pressed against the door with your skirt hiked above your waist and Hiragi sliding into you at a desperate pace. 

“5 minutes.” You gasp, hands taking his broad, muscular shoulders while he takes your breath away over and over. “You said - we only have 5 minutes.” 

“That's all we need.” Hiragi grunts, digging his fingers harder into your hips as he lifts you up more, shifting his position to fill you deeper. “for now.” He adds before his lips begin assaulting your pretty neck and chest. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-Beyond the normal little things like public quickies and some fun positions, I don't think he's big into taking risks as far as his own urges. But he would always be down to try something at least once if you wanted to and it wasn't too far out of his comfort zone. 

“Told you that would be fun.” You giggle, your sweaty body pressed up against Hiragi's as the two of you shower after your intimate adventure together. 

“Yeah,yeah. Hot oil massage and aromatherapy for heightened passion, ambient music, all that jazz. You were right. It was very romantic.” He chuckles, pulling the two of you under the shower head. “But now the two of us are very slippery. How are we gonna get this stuff off?” He asks, a bit more serious. “I'll be slidin’ all over the damn place.” 

“Uh… huh.. You know what?” You think for a moment. “I didn't get that far in the instructions.” 

“Well where are they?”

“Judging by how fast our garbage was picked up this morning… the city dump by now!” You grin sheepishly, leaning up to peck his cheek as he sighs. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-I’m here for a Hiragi that can't last long, but the man recoperates quicker than a speeding bullet. It's just round after round of constant pleasure for both of you and at the end of it you are filled and much more. He can get a solid 4-5 rounds on on an average night, but legend says you teased him so much one day, he made you suffer through 7 and the only reason he stopped was the pizza delivery guy knocking. 

“Again?” You groan as Hiragi lazily pulls you on top of him, the two of you having barely caught your breath since the last round. “Aren't you tired? We've been at it for hours!” You sighs, but as you speak, you spread yourself and easily take him in. You weren't sure if it was out of need or habit, but you couldn't complain at how perfectly the two of you fit together. 

“Tired? Yes. Done with this? That's a different story.” Hiragi smirks, pulling you down to lay flush against him as he slowly moves your hips together. “Lay down babe, I can take care of us.” He growls in your ear just before you let out yet another loud beautiful moan for him. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-Hiragi has some anxiety about using toys at first. He wasn't sure if it was a sense of feeling inadequate, or perhaps just not being experienced with all the different types. He isn't going to be using anything outside of the typical varied vibrators (for use on his partner) and handcuffs for fun. But when you introduce and convince him try try the vibrating cock ring he nearly died on the spot at how fast you came on his cock, clamping down tightly along with his new favorite toy for the two of you. Of course, you might regret getting the wearable vibrator. It made going out in public with him a complete nightmare in the best way possible. Countless of panties ruined, and all you can do is try and sit stoic and quiet in a booth in Pothos while he smirks smugly across the table from you as he sits on his phone, ignoring your friends conversations around you as he endlessly presses your buttons (literally and figuratively) 

Kotoha looks at your scowl as she comes and pours you and your rat of a boyfriend another cup of coffee. “Everything okay?” She asks, looking between you and Hiragi, who was sporting a slight smirk as he stares at you from across the table. His phone in his hand as his fingers fidgeted across the screen. 

“Fine.” You respond, gritting your teeth. You nearly let out a moan but choke it back, passing it off as a cough. “Just.. having an intense contest.” You respond, not breaking eye contact with the man across the table from you. 

“A contest?” She looks between the two of you, even more confused. “Like..A staring contest?” 

“Yeah something like that.”

Kotoha shakes her head, sighing. “You two can be so weird sometimes.” She laughs, turning and heading back toward the counter. “Just don't stay like that too long or your face will be stuck like that forever! You'll look like Sakura if you keep it up.” She teases, going back to work.

Hiragi opens his mouth to respond but quickly grunts when you kick him under the table, hitting the button multiple times in retaliation while you bite back yet another moan, panties absolutely ruined as you hold your thighs firmly together to muffle the vibrating between them. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Loves it. Absolutely obsessed with making you squirm in public. But only because you do it unknowingly. By just existing it drives him insane. So of course, the only way to deal with you is by making you just as crazy for him. 

Hiragi's hand travels a little lower than normal as he wraps his arm around your waist, hand basically cupping the cheek of your ass shamelessly as he talks to Matsumoto and Kaji, as if it were the most natural and normal thing in the world. You fidget slightly, trying to get him to notice but he just gives you a little squeeze and continues talking, not even acknowledging the fact he's groping you right there, without a care in the world. 

“Yeah, like I was saying..We really need to up the patrols in these areas and-” he continues talking to his teammates, but his mind was in the same place as yours right now

Of course it's what you get after all, being so cute and perfect all the time. A few minutes prior, you were happily walking along and chatting with him, holding his hands as you told him about your day. But how were supposed to know that while you were telling him who the latest victim was your best friend had suckered into dating, all he could do was notice how slightly more low it your shirt was today. And how when you jumped in excitement when you saw the ice cream cart, your skirt fluttered up just enough to give him a peek of your favorite pink panties you were wearing today. 

No. 

The least he can do is get you just as flustered and bothered as him. It's only fair. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-Ain’t afraid to let out a grunt or small moan, and cursing when he's balls deep inside of you is like a second language. He tries to stay as quiet as he can because he loves taking in every sound you make. But what he doesn't know is just how much you love the ones he makes too. It's like a game to you, wiggling your hips the right way or finding that sensitive spot on his neck just so you can hear it from him. 

“Fuuhhckin hells, you're gonna kill me baby.” Hiragi groans, head falling back onto the pillow as you slowly sink down on his hard cock. His eyes roll back as you finally have him fully seated inside you. “Shit!” 

You can't help but smiles down at him beneath you, goosebumps riding as his fingertips slowly glide down your side as he attempts to ground himself. “Mm.. feel good?” You coo sweetly, hands slowly steadying yourself on his chest as you begin to rock your hips along his length, making sure to rub your clit on his pelvis as you do. You can't hold back your own soft moan at the friction, the sounds falling from your lips causing Hiragi to mutter another slew of curses as he grips your hips. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-Hiragi loves the soft, romantic sex with you. It's the bread and butter of your relationship. But he can't help but enjoy planning an afternoon of some fun and sloppy sex when the two of you are having a slow day. Just you, Hiragi, your pussy, his throbbing cock, and the best rock compilation playlist blaring throughout your home as the two of you fuck on every surface available. 

“We're gonna get another noise complaint from the neighbors, Ragi.” You laugh lightly as he continues sucking on your neckbone. You brave yourself on the small side table as he thrusts into you, silently cursing yourself for the eventual hole in the wall the edge of it's going to make. 

Hiragi chuckles, sighing into your neck. “What? You don't think they like the Triumph and Metallica playlist? I could put on some more modern stuff if you think that's what they prefer. But personally, I'm liking the classics today.” He pulls back slightly to look at you, swear running down his chest. He has been fucking you all morning to some of his favorites, and he didn't want to stop now. 

You roll your eyes, arms and legs wrapping around him as he picks you up, walking the two of you over to the couch where he immediately continues his movements. “I don't mean the music, you idiot. Though playing it so loud might not help the case.” You gasp as he jerks his hips deeper. “I meant all the banging and–” 

“And your constant moans?” Hiragi gives you a shit eating grin, pairing it with yet another deep thrust. “Dunno why they would complain. You sound beautiful, babe. Especially with the music.” 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-Thick, veiny, respectable length, and absolutely beautiful when hard. There's a reason why the wears those leather pants all around town too. Hiragi knows he could be a cock model and is happy to remind everyone else of that fact as well. 

“Does it hurt when it's this hard?” You ask in amazement as you lay down between his legs one afternoon, taking the time to admiring his dick. You blow on it, smiling as you watch his veins become more prominent. “It's so thick.” You wrap your hand around the base, giving it a light squeeze and watching in satisfaction as a small bead of precum pools at the tip. 

Hiragi hisses, his hips jerky up slightly at your playful comments. “Keep it up and you won't be able to talk tomorrow.” He warns, tucking his arms behind his head. He can't help but feel slightly flustered and proud at your comments, warmth building in his chest as you slowly begin moving your hand up and down his length. 

“Sorry baby.” You giggle as your tongue glides along his tip tasting the droplet of precum you had been eying, earning another stern grunt as his fingers shoot down to gently entangle in your hair. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-He likes to pretend he is low or average in the sex drive department. But if given the chance he'd have you every second of the day. And I mean, who wouldn't want to be naked in bed with this God 24/7? But alas, responsibilities. Just know he's thinking of making love to you every chance possible. Can get pretty silly about it, but you gotta admit, it feels nice to be adored so much

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards).

-He could fall asleep fast, or wait a little while and just hold you in complete silence. He follows your lead and needs and doesn't mind as long as he gets to have you in his arms. He's blissed out, smitten, and willing to do anything to keep you there all night against him. 

“Mm.. you're spoiled, ya know that?” Hiragi mumbles tiredly, lips brushing against your forehead as you lay content and happy in his arms. His fingers slowly trace along your back as you shift to look up at him, opening your eyes partially and smiling that warm smile that makes him melt. 

“Love you..Ragi..” you yawn,nuzzling your face into his neck. 

Hiragi chuckles, pulling you closer as he yawns as well. *Love you too, troublemaker..” he sighs, body finally relaxing as the two of you slowly drift off into a peaceful sleep. 

[puddin--kenma]

he wins you back

now playing: take me back to eden by sleep token

You'd given up on him, on something more ever happening between the two of you... and he's come to realize he can't stand that being a reality.

part I v1 (Furin first + second years)

part I v2 (Furin third years + Noroshi)

part I v3 (Shisitoren + Roppo Ichiza + KEEL)

wind breaker Mizuki Saku x GN!reader

word count:: 701

All character version will be posted over time! next: hiragi

Sakura Haruka, Suo Hayato, Nirei Akihiko, Kiryu Mitsuki, Tsugeura Taiga, Sugishita Kyotaro, Momijikawa Sakae, Anzai Masaki, Kakiuchi Yuri, Yuzuriha Izumi, Kaji Ren, Kusumi Yuto, Momose Takumi, Mizuki Saku, Hiragi Toma, Umemiya Hajime, Tsubaki Tasuku, Uryu Sakaki, Seiryu Sakaki, Endo Yamato, Takiishi chika, Banjo Kanon, Togame Jo, Tomiyama Choji, Sako Kota, Inugami Teruomi, Wanijima Yugo, Arima Yukinari, Kanuma Minoru, Suzuri Shuhei, Miyoshi Akihito, Nakamura Kanji, Otowa Ritsu, Natori Shingo, Mogami Taishi, Kongo Takeru character count: 36

He watched with bated breath as the message was sent, praying to whatever god would listen for it to be delivered.

Hours passed.

No reply.

He sighed, tossing his phone aside for the tenth time that hour. The feelings of failure and sorrow were sinking their hooks deep into his heart. He let you down, and that fact was utterly unavoidable. He knew he had messed up, but what he didn’t know was how in the world he was going to fix this.

He pushed himself from his couch, and began to pace around the room—that was sure to get the ideas flowing, right?

“Flowers? No, that’s boring… something sweet? I mean I’d do that anyway, that doesn’t actually show I’m sorry or anything. Stage a kidnapping, play hero? Real smart,” he muttered to himself as he took laps around the room.

“Maybe I’m better off begging and pleading until they give me another shot, rather than doing nothing like a cowardly bystander…”

With a sigh, he shoved his phone into his pocket, slipped on his jacket, and made his way out the door.

As he walked through the darkened streets of Makochi, he couldn’t stop the thoughts from running rampant through his mind.

You’ve fought countless battles. You’ve proven time and time again not to be underestimated or doubted. You’ve worked your way to becoming one of the devas. You’ve stared down people twice your size without hesitation or waver, and yet now? This is somehow the most challenging foe you’ve faced?

The person who you care about—

He stopped dead in his tracks, that one word now echoing in his mind. 

Care.

No. That wasn’t right. It was so much more than that…

Love.

The word crashed into him like a bus without brakes. His breath hitched, his ears rang, and his heart began to pound furiously—it was as if his world had suddenly shifted, no longer was the self deprecation the loudest voice in his head, but the voice of reason that relentlessly screamed about how deeply he loved you.

No longer was this a desire for only forgiveness, but the aching, desperate need to rekindle what he allowed to burn out. 

He clenched his fists at his sides, turning his head to look toward the evening sky, and with newfound drive, he broke into a sprint toward the place he knew you’d have to be.

He panted as he skidded to a halt, fist pounding on your door before he even had a chance to steady himself.

Sure it was frantic and erratic, but he needed you to answer. If it was the last thing he did, he would wait for you to open.

Inevitably, he heard the soft click of the door lock and saw the handle begin to turn. 

You looked tired, a feeling Mizuki knew he was causing. You looked at him pensively, then sighed quietly, “What do you want, Mizuki?”

He had to admit, the lack of warmth in your tone caused his chest to ache, but it didn’t deter him from his mission. 

He took a deep shaking breath before speaking, “I know you likely want absolutely nothing to do with me, and I completely understand that.” His gaze didn’t break from yours for even a moment as he continued, “But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I wasn’t being good to you. I wasn’t listening.”

You broke away from his stare, sighing quietly before speaking, “It’s not that I want nothing to do with you—that’s not it at all. I just can’t keep pretending you’re my safe haven.”

He frowned, nodding, “I don’t fault you or blame you, nothing like that whatsoever. I never have blamed you for anything, every fault, every failure, that’s me. Entirely. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t my fault,” He took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling for a moment before continuing quietly, “It is my fault. I know it’s my fault. But… please, I’m asking you from the bottom of my heart…”He looked back at you, finding your eyes with an unwavering determination, “Please let me prove I can rescue us this time, and do things properly this time.”

[puddin--kenma]

he wins you back

now playing: take me back to eden by sleep token

You'd given up on him, on something more ever happening between the two of you... and he's come to realize he can't stand that being a reality.

part I v1 (Furin first + second years)

part I v2 (Furin third years + Noroshi)

part I v3 (Shisitoren + Roppo Ichiza + KEEL)

wind breaker Hiragi Toma x GN!reader

word count:: 979

All character version will be posted over time! next: umemiya

Sakura Haruka, Suo Hayato, Nirei Akihiko, Kiryu Mitsuki, Tsugeura Taiga, Sugishita Kyotaro, Momijikawa Sakae, Anzai Masaki, Kakiuchi Yuri, Yuzuriha Izumi, Kaji Ren, Kusumi Yuto, Momose Takumi, Mizuki Saku, Hiragi Toma, Umemiya Hajime, Tsubaki Tasuku, Uryu Sakaki, Seiryu Sakaki, Endo Yamato, Takiishi chika, Banjo Kanon, Togame Jo, Tomiyama Choji, Sako Kota, Inugami Teruomi, Wanijima Yugo, Arima Yukinari, Kanuma Minoru, Suzuri Shuhei, Miyoshi Akihito, Nakamura Kanji, Otowa Ritsu, Natori Shingo, Mogami Taishi, Kongo Takeru character count: 36

Hiragi crossed his arms and sighed, leaning back in his chair across from Umemiya, the latter rambling on about god knows what—probably something about his garden.

Hiragi was far too mentally preoccupied to focus on his friend at the moment. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, giving the occasional hum of acknowledgment to show Umemiya that he wasn’t completely checked out of the conversation.

“Oi, you’re not even listening!”

“Hm?”

Umemiya laughed and reached over, giving Hiragi a small shove, “Man, I asked how yn’s been, they haven’t popped in lately!”

At the mention of your name, Hiragi’s eyes immediately snapped open and shoulders stiffened. He didn’t pull his gaze from the roof of the balcony, though.

“Oh, yn? Yeah… They’re fine,” He mumbled, knowing damn well he hadn’t spoken to you in over a week by this point.

Umemiya remained quiet for a moment, still grinning. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head, “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Hiragi scoffed and rolled his eyes, finally tipping his head to the side to look at his friend, “Shut it, I’m not lying.”

“You are, you’re all stiff and you’ve a deathgrip on your arms. Usually you’re tense, but not stiff—there’s a difference,” Umemiya said matter of factly, a smug tone to his voice.

Hiragi, however, just rolled his eyes once more, “I’m not lying, I’m sure they’re fine… they always are, after all. They can handle themselves well.”

“I didn’t realize you two broke up—” “We weren’t dating,” Hiragi interjected sharply.

“Whatever you say, but still. What happened?”

Sensing that Umemiya wasn’t about to drop the subject, Hiragi sighed and sat up straight, opting to rest his elbows on the picnic table, “Nothin’ happened, they just stopped replying to me.”

“That’s not like them, you obviously did something.”

“No, I’m serious,” he sighed and shook his head. “They just… I don’t know, called it quits I guess? I never really figured out how their head worked. I just… Like I said, we weren’t dating. I know they wanted to, but it’s just too much stress, y’know?”

Umemiya hummed in thought then shook his head, “Honestly? No, I don’t know. Elaborate.”

Hiragi groaned softly then continued, “Like. Relationships. They’re hard.”

“So is gardening. But I still like it. You can still indulge in something if it’s hard.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then be specific.”

“It’s just hard to let someone in like that. It's hard to always be thinking about how your actions are going to affect another person. I’ve already got Bofurin on my plate, I don’t have enough of me to give—at least not as much as they deserve.”

“You’re thinking way too much about this, dude. You act like you weren’t always considering them anyway, as if you didn’t always worry about them. But I know you’re busy with Bofurin—we all are, but you need to put yourself into consideration too. They never once had an issue with how busy you were, or with you showing up battered and bruised—you don’t get to decide what’s too burdensome for someone. You gotta think about yourself sometimes. Sure, you’re my right hand, but it’s not like there aren’t three other Devas. Stop actin’ like this is a job, you could take time any day to see your partner—cause that’s what you wanted with them, wasn’t it?”

Hiragi remained silent, letting Umemiya’s words sink in, then, with subtle hesitation, he nodded, “Yeah… That’s what I had wanted—”

“And now?”

“Still want.”

“Then why are you sitting here?”

Hiragi remained silent, staring at the table, feeling Umemiya’s gaze fixated on him.

“Why aren’t you going to them, Hiragi?” Umemiya pestered, gently pushing Hiragi once more.

“Not gonna let me sit here anymore, are ya?” He finally asked after another long beat of silence.

“Nope, so. Go fix what you messed up, take ‘em some tomatoes while you’re at it,” He smiled as he stood, grabbing a small basket and filling it with the fresh red fruits.

Hiragi let out a deep breath, knowing now he was absolutely not able to get out of this, taking the basket from Umemiya’s outstretched hand and making his way off the Furin rooftop with begrudging steps.

“Don’t mess this up,” He mumbled to himself, “Don’t run this time.”

The small bell chimed as Hiragi pushed open the door, stepping into the small market you’d been working at. He looked around a moment, stalling the inevitable before rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, approaching the cash register.

He cleared his throat and set the basket on the counter, “Hey, yn…”

You jumped slightly and turned your head, suddenly doing a double take before turning around to face him, “Oh—hey, Hiragi.”

He couldn’t help but smile softly—no matter what, you were the one who always cracked his facade, “Hey…” He said again, softer this time, then shook his head to regain his focus as he pushed the small basket toward you, “Right, yeah, uh… Umemiya asked me to bring you these.”

You smiled back, despite everything, you couldn’t help it, “Ah, tell him I said thanks.”

He nodded, a tense silence falling between the two of you. Then he cleared his throat and diverted his gaze, “... I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Sorry? For what?” “You know what… For being scared of what could’ve happened between us.”

“Ah, right…” You just nodded, voice quiet, looking anywhere but at him.

He nodded as well, the tense silence stretching on. 

“... You think we could try again?” You asked, your voice was hesitant as you finally locked eyes with him.

“Try again?”

“Yeah… Try again.”

He cracked a small smile, then let out a soft humorless laugh, “Yeah… I think I’d like that.”You returned his smile and stuck out your hand, “Hi, I’m yn, and you are?”

[puddin--kenma]

hiragi toma x reader [pre shishitoren fight]

As one of the four Deva’s of Furin, Hiragi knew the friends and enemies of the town—even if he didn’t want to.

But that’s how the saying goes, right? Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?

“We don’t cross the tracks. That’s the rule. We’ve come to an agreement with Shishitoren and it works. Stop trying to mess things up,” He repeated this religiously whenever he was faced with criticism in regard to the boundaries created between the two groups. “It’s a bar street, nothing there that belongs to us, so leave it alone.”

Simple. Or at least it should’ve been simple.

But something—someone, started to make him question his words.

Now playing: in the night by fly by midnight

cw: occasional cursing, angst if you squint, pretty fluffy

words: 5.1K

Red was the only color illuminating the room at this hour. The small numbers on the alarm clock slowly ticked closer and closer to sunrise. Falling asleep right now would give him exactly five hours and twelve minutes of rest before the agonizing beeping forced him from the comfort of his bed.

Yet here he was. Staring at the numbers, desperately willing for them to start ticking the other way.

It was another restless night, filled only with tossing and turning. Hiragi was unable to sleep, the worries of the day kept his mind far too preoccupied—it was an endless loop for him. Wake up, try to manage the relentless fighting amongst the first years, keep up with Deva duties, and still extend a helping hand to the town. Hiragi was absolutely and utterly spent… So why couldn’t he sleep? The blank ceiling overhead did nothing but allow his mind to race as if it were a blank page for him to project all his problems onto. 

In theory, it should’ve been helpful, like journaling.

In reality, it tormented him. Reminding him of all his negligible failures throughout the day. 

He contemplated finding a sleep medication, but the thought of adding yet another cocktail of pills into his life made his stomach churn.

Seeing as sleep seemed to be a lifetime away and the taunting nature of the blank ceiling was going to drive him into insanity, Hiragi did the next best thing he could think of—he slipped on his jacket, phone shoved deep into his pocket.

The door softly clicked shut behind him as he stepped out into the cool night, the suffocating heat of summer had finally broken and the crisp air felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the staleness his room had turned into.

The soft thump of his shoes against the concrete was the only sound at this hour, the world seemingly turned off and in a restful state. Suppose that was the nice thing about a city like Makochi, far enough from the bustling streets that the stars could light the way. Despite its abundance of flaws, it was… nice at night. Relaxing.

Almost.

He slowed his pace when he heard the shuffling, probably just a street cat. He thought, turning down the side street.

His stomach dropped as he froze mid-step, nearly colliding with someone as they rounded the corner at the same time as him.

They jumped back, hand immediately to their heart, “God—you scared the life outta me.”

Hiragi caught his own breath, heart pounding a bit faster, “Likewise… sorry about that. I didn’t expect to run into anyone else out this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, finally getting a good look at the person across from him. 

Their jacket was scuffed and frayed. Its color was somewhat obscured by the darkness, but Hiragi instantly knew it was not Furin colors. His chest tightened slightly. He should’ve mentioned something, but he kept his concerns quiet, for now the encounter seemed… innocent enough.

I don’t recognize their face at all… he thought, which was odd—he was quite familiar by now with the majority of the folks in Makochi.

“Yeah, no worries. I wasn’t really paying much attention either,” they laughed softly as they looked at him, “I suppose it just was too nice of a night to stay inside, huh?”

“Something like that. I guess it’s better than staring at the ceiling.”

The person nodded, offering him a small smile as they looked up to the stars and spoke in a soft tone, “Way better.”

A comfortable silence fell over them as Hiragi followed their gaze to the sky, but it didn’t last for long as the person sighed and looked forward once more, “Well, I best be on my way. Have a good rest of your night.”

Hiragi’s eyes followed them as they walked by, calling out a soft, “Yeah, you too…”

He watched until they turned out of sight, a chill running down his spine as he rolled his shoulders to shake it away.

“That’s it, I’m delirious. I’ve gotta be hallucinating.” He mumbled to himself as he continued on his path.

In the days that followed, Hiragi would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t looking for them in the city. Whether it was helping out or on patrols, he looked a bit harder, trying to catch a glimpse of the person he ran into. 

It was starting to leave him unsettled when he never so much as caught a glimpse of someone who even slightly resembled them.

Maybe I really am losing it, was it a ghost? No because they nearly ran into me—then again, we never physically made contact. 

The thought that perhaps they never really were real was a permanent fixture in his head by now. He contemplated asking Umemiya, but after weighing his options, it was better he stayed quiet about it. Didn’t need Umemiya snooping in his business, especially in regard to potential Makochi outsiders. 

He sighed, dragging his hands down his weary face as he stared up at the ceiling yet again. The Déjà vu was bordering on being creepy. What if the last time he saw them was actually some sick and twisted lucid dream? 

It was a possibility he couldn’t rule out at this point. It’s not like they were creepy, far from it—almost the exact opposite really. They just intrigued him deeply, some stranger he’s never seen appearing in a side street at an ungodly hour of night? Maybe they were just some drifter, or maybe they were visiting?

More than that, why the hell is it bothering him so much that he has no idea who they are? 

That was what bothered Hiragi most.

He sat up with a groan, looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand. The red numbers stared back at him, half after midnight. So late, yet his thoughts were running a marathon. With a sigh, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up—surely another walk would do him well.

Definitely not because he is secretly hoping to bump into the mystery person again, absolutely not.

He made his way down the side streets, but was met with nothing except silence. 

The bridge creaked beneath his feet as he leaned against the railing, “Maybe it was all in my head,” he murmured to himself as he stared down into the dark water below. “Creepy.”

“What’s creepy?”

The voice scared him half to death. Hiragi choked back a gasp and jumped slightly, one hand white-knuckling the railing, dominant hand immediately curling into a defensive fist. 

But they didn’t react. They just stared at him with a big grin and a laugh, “I didn’t mean to scare you, really. Maybe I should’ve stomped or something.”

He relaxed his tense shoulders and let out the breath of air he had been holding, “It’s fine… I was in my head anyway.” He then unclenched his fist and waved dismissively, returning to his leaning stance on the railing.

“So?” They asked, tone laced with inquisition. 

“So what?”

“What was so creepy?”

Hiragi looked over at them and cracked a slight grin, “Nothin, nothin… some stray cat with wild eyes.” He couldn’t let them know that he was referring to them as the creepy entity.

They let out a knowing oooh and nodded, then leaned against the railing beside Hiragi.

“Hey, I gotta ask…” he started, interrupting the silence, “I haven’t seen you around town, are you new here?”

They laughed and shook their head, “Well. Depends on who’s asking.”

Hiragi raised a brow at them, their answer was not exactly as satisfactory as he was hoping for, “Well, I’m asking. Is that good enough?”

They grinned and shrugged, “And you are?”

“Hiragi Toma.” He answered, simple and straightforward. 

They nodded and held out their hand for him to shake, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hiragi Toma. I’m YN.”

YN, he repeated in his head. He had never heard your name mentioned before, but you weren’t new? It wasn’t making sense to him. Maybe you were an introvert? But if that were the case, sneaking up on him and striking a conversation wouldn’t make sense.

He eyed your hand for a brief moment before letting out a quiet chuckle and taking it into his own. The contact, albeit short, gave him all the proof he needed to know that you indeed actually were real—neither a dream nor apparition, despite his earlier doubts. 

He refused to admit it then, but he quite liked the feel of your hand in his.

“So, Hiragi,” you continued as your hand found the railing once again, “what brings you out so late anyway?”

He shrugged, leaning against the cold metal, “Just can’t seem to sleep these days. You?”

“I like to explore when the world is quiet… nobody to bother me, y’know?”

The reason you gave was solid, understandable, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around you. You weren’t new, but you hadn’t much explored Makochi?

“You don't get out much or something?”

You let out a quiet laugh and pushed off from the railing, “something like that.”

He watched as you leaned away. There was something just utterly captivating about you that he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the mystery of knowing nothing about you, maybe it was the way your smile was still bright despite the darkness of night—he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he desperately wanted to know more.

“You leavin’?” His question was almost uncharacteristically soft. You just nodded in response, walking backwards into the night.

“Until we meet again, Hiragi Toma. I’m sure it’s inevitable.”

He watched as you once again faded into the darkness of Makochi.

Inevitable. Your last word to him echoed through his mind.

The way you spoke had you sounding so certain, as if it were a promise leaving your lips… or a warning. 

It became almost like a routine for him. Once or twice a week, in the depths of night, Hiragi would wander about in search of you.

It had become something of a game, who could find the other quicker.

You almost always won.

“You’re not much for stealth, you know that? You’d make an awful spy.”

Hiragi laughed quietly as he sat on the concrete staircase, turning to look at you behind him as you approached, “Maybe I wasn’t hiding.”

You just hummed in response, skipping down the stairs to sit yourself beside him. How could someone be filled with so much energy at such a miserably late hour?

“I’m starting to think you want me to find you.” Your voice was laced with amusement as you bumped your shoulder into his.

The contact, albeit so miniscule and innocent, sent a shock through his system—his heart beating a bit faster, warmth spreading throughout him and threatening to spill into a flush over his face.

He cleared his throat, then mumbled, “Would that be such a bad thing?”

You just hummed and shrugged, laughing quietly instead of giving any reply to ease his worry. Silence fell between the two of you, as it oftentimes did.

It was never uncomfortable, though. Despite hardly knowing you, Hiragi always felt at peace in your presence. 

He glanced at you from his peripheral. The moon was bright tonight, but it was dull compared to you. The way your hair so perfectly swayed in the night breeze, how the stars reflected in your eyes, how completely blissful you always seemed to look. Hiragi was envious in a way.

Not of the way he found you to be a stunning visionary, but in the way that he wished to know the real you.

The you that wasn’t wrapped in the darkness of night.

The you that was just as joyful during the day, that had struggles as worries like any other person. The you that could smile at him in the sun, just as beautiful and bright but in a whole new light, that could link your arm with his, who he could protect—Stop.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was quiet, an attempt to not disrupt the peace.

“Hm?”

“You said you’re not new around these parts… how come I’ve never seen you around?”

You shrugged in response, “I guess I’m just elusive.”

As always, you avoided the question. Every single time, you avoided the question. It drove him mad, really.

“Why don’t you ever tell me things about you? You’re like… an enigma. I know your name, that’s essentially it.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated? How?”

“It just is.”

“Of course it is.” He muttered, frustration beginning to grow evident in his tone. “I just want to know you. Not only under the cover of night.”

“It’s not that simple. Like I said—it’s complicated, alright? You’ll… I’ll tell you one day. Okay? Just not today,” your voice was laced with finality. Neither room for discussion nor reason.

He just exhaled deeply, leaning back to rest his elbows on the gritty step behind him, “fine.” He looked over at you once again, your expression was pensive now as you picked at the frayed sleeves of your jacket. 

“… penny for your thoughts?” He asked quietly, still staring at you as if he could sense your inner turmoil that begged to spill over.

You didn’t reply right away, clearly choosing your words carefully, “I’m not supposed to be here, Hiragi.”

“Where? Out so late?”

“Well, yes, but… this side of town, I guess.” Your words were mumbled now—hesitant and unsure. 

“What do you mean?”

“I… never mind, I don’t know what I mean,” You immediately backtracked, covering up with a forced laugh, “I’ll see you around. Swear.”

And with that, you stood and turned. Your shoes scuffed loudly against the concrete as you raced up the stairs and took off before Hiragi could even utter a single syllable of protest. 

The routine maintained its consistency over the following weeks. It was comforting, almost; however, Hiragi would never admit that aloud. Despite the vague answers you always gave him whenever he asked about you, his time spent with you had become something sacred and treasured. Throughout his stressful and chaotic days, the anomaly that was you had become the one thing he looked forward to most.

Oftentimes, on the especially stressful days that lead into sleepless nights, Hiragi still asked himself if you were even real at all. Perhaps you were just some sort of ghost—an image of perfection conjured up by his imagination to soothe him from the relentless frenzy of his day to day life. 

But then he’d hear your laugh, or catch a faint trace of your perfume, or feel the soft brush of your shoulder against his, and know this was, indeed, reality.

“Look at that, looks like you’re the one bad at hiding tonight.” 

His voice had a hint of teasing as he approached the grassy hill where you sat, the grass already pat down from the path of your shoes. You didn’t turn to face him, but your shoulders did shake with a gentle laughter.

“Guess I took a page from your book. Maybe I wanted you to find me.” Your voice was lazy as you replied, glancing at him for just a brief moment before turning back to the sky,

He huffed a quiet laugh as he dropped down, sitting beside you on the slightly damp grass with a sigh. 

It was a clear night. One of those picturesque late summer evenings just before the chill of fall was expected to creep in. The sky was clear with twinkling bright stars, the crickets chirped and the distant streetlights hummed—all melding together into a calming white noise.

You both sat in silence for a while before your voice broke the calm.

“Do you believe in aliens, Hiragi? Or alternate universes?” 

That had caught him off guard, “Aliens?” He turned slightly to look at you, brow raised.

You nodded, sight set on the stars. “I don’t know if I do, but the universe is just so big, y’know? Be kinda lonely if it was just us.”

He hummed, mulling over his words, “I think I have to believe in something. Like you said, the universe is massive. It would be weird if we were the only ones out there.”

“That’s what I think, too…” You smiled, but it was far weaker than your typical grin, “I wonder… If in another galaxy, light-years away, there’s another version of us. Doing the same thing. Looking at the same stars.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah…” you whispered, “I hope they’re happier than we are.”

His expression fell slightly as you spoke, “You’re not happy?”

You hesitated, shoulders growing slightly stiff. “It’s not that I’m unhappy, per se… I just…” You sighed heavily, opting to fall back, now laying against the cold ground. “I’m happy. I just could be happier.” You lolled your head to look at him.

“And what would make you happier?” His voice was soft as he held your gaze.

You laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it. “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”

The silence that followed was far from empty. It was filled with tension, with curiosity and longing—filled with things neither of you dared to say aloud.

Hiragi kept his gaze on you, his hand itching to reach out and take yours… but he refrained.

“How can I make you happy?” It was barely above a whisper, but it rang loudly through your ears.

You didn’t answer right away, the words hanging between you. Rather, you studied his features in the pale moonlight. The slight crease of concern in his brow, tired eyes that still stared at you as if they were filled with life. There were a myriad of things you wanted to say: the truth about who you were, what you hid… where you belonged… but you couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, you sighed softly, breaking the staring contest as you looked at the stars once again, “You already do, in a way,” you finally said. Your tone was resolute, telling him as if it was the most obvious answer.

He wanted to say something, anything, to keep the moment from ending—to ask you what you meant, to ask you how he could ensure you were happy. But his voice failed him. The night drew on, crickets speaking for the both of you.

After a while, you sighed and sat up, pushing yourself to stand with a huff as you wiped away the stray grass from your clothes. “You should get some sleep, Hiragi.”

He watched as you stood, forcing a small smile, “Can’t. You know that.”

“Then rest your eyes,” You countered, returning his smile. “At least try—pretend, even.”

He chuckled quietly under his breath and shrugged in resignation. Your expression looked forced, as if you were making an attempt to be okay. He wanted to ask what was on your mind, but he knew you wouldn’t tell him anything more, you never did.

With your hands shoved in your jacket, you took a step away, “I better go.”

“You sure? Can’t I walk you home or something?” “No, it’s fine. You’ll find me again another time. Or I’ll find you, I always do.”

He nodded, eyes following you as the moonlight traced your retreating silhouette. “Yeah… You always do.”

By the next day, Hiragi was running on fumes.

A lack of sleep, his mind racing with thoughts of you, all compounded with his typical Furin duties…

Sakura and Sugishita starting a turf war with Shishitoren was the absolute last thing he needed to be dealing with. 

But here he was.

And of course, Tomiyama was downstairs calling for Umemiya. Everything was just getting more and more hectic, what else could possibly go wrong?

He followed behind Umemiya as they made their way to confront Tomiyama. Hiragi knew better than to speak up at this moment, though. Umemiya was the boss and he knew how to best handle these sorts of conflicts.

He sighed as they entered the courtyard, his eyes began to scan the large crowd of Shishitoren that followed their leader to Furin. Smug, dark grins adorned the majority of their faces. Of course he saw Togame and Sako, Arima and Kanuma from the alley… and then—

You?

Wait, what?

His brow furrowed and his breath hitched, his brain refusing to process the image he was seeing. He shifted to the side to get a better view, hoping that he was wrong. 

But there you were, half hidden behind some other member. It didn’t matter how hard you tried to disappear, though.

Hiragi saw you. He saw the jacket. The colors. 

Suddenly, everything clicked.

He tried to convince himself that it was a trick of the light. A doppelganger. A twin. Please, anyone, anything, but you…

But there was no denying it.

His stare was unwavering—nothing could break the line of vision he had on you. The world around him began to blur together—Tomiyama’s loud commands, Umemiya’s calm authority, Sakura’s defiance—it all blended into nonsense.

All he could focus on was you.

You’d seen him too. There was no doubt about it. The way your shoulders stiffened, the way you tried to shrink away, it was clear as day you knew you were caught. Why else would you be trying to hide?

Never in his life had his heart pounded like this, with an unjustifiable pain and ache. Hell, he barely knew you.

Was it anger? Confusion? 

It felt like betrayal. 

This whole time, you’d known who he was.

And you lied… or at least you refrained from telling the full truth.

Was it all some weird ploy to get insider information about Furin? A way to get him to look weak and let his guard down? 

He remembered the quiet laughs you shared not even a week prior, the way your hand would brush against his as the two of you walked through the dim streets… Now it all felt like some cruel joke.

Whatever it was, though, it hit like a blow straight to his chest—one he never saw coming.

Hiragi had half a mind to never speak to you again. How dare you lie about this? Would it really have been that hard to tell the truth? It’s not like he would’ve gone into full fight or flight mode. Being Shishitoren, it didn’t change who he had come to know—the one he had grown so desperately fond of.

But who were you, really?

The few things Hiragi thought he had known for certain about you now felt about as truthful as a fairytale. Maybe that’s what this all was, his mind making some bullshit fairytale to attempt to soothe him from the merciless stress in his daily life. 

He buried his face deeper into his pillow, inhaling the smell of fabric softener and detergent. He let out a sigh, soft and shaky, the kind filled with words he wished to yell into the night sky, but instead kept locked inside. His mind was spinning: every contact, every glance, every laugh—did it ever mean anything?

He pried one eye open, blinking slowly to adjust in the nighttime. The time for slumber was, as usual, fleeting; however, to go on a walk to ease the restlessness felt different now.

It felt wrong. Risking running into you felt like a nightmare in and of itself. So, he stayed put, turning his head to bury it back into the feather down.

Then, somewhere between the sighs and spinning thoughts, the world shifted.

He laughed as his hand found yours, your skin was soft against the rough calluses that decorated his palms.

“Do you remember when we raided the convenience store despite it being like one in the morning?” Your voice was soft, but it sounded far away despite sitting right beside him.

“Course I do, you paid only in coins and the cashier sent you a look that could’ve killed,” he smiled at the memory, warmth flooding through him as he laid his head against yours.

“I only had coins on me! It covered the bill, didn’t it?” 

“Hey, I wasn’t judging. If they didn’t want ya payin’ in coins, they wouldn’t accept them.”

You just laughed in response, your body shifting closer to his. The late afternoon sun cascaded over the grassy hill they found themselves perched on. The grass was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast from the nights you two usually spent on it.

The world was vibrant, the contrasts of hues far brighter than they should’ve been for October. The moment felt gentle, slow, and everlasting, as if nothing could’ve pulled you from one another.

People walked by—couples and friends alike, chattering and laughing. The first signs of autumn had finally settled in: leaves drifting to the ground in shades of red and orange, the air turning crisp and chilled. 

He glanced at you, but your gaze was fixated on the skyline, distant but untroubled. No words needed to be said further, the moment completely and wholly laced with serenity. 

He released your hand and instead wrapped his arm around your shoulders, holding you closely to him as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. Each second stretched on for what felt like hours, time itself slowing to cherish the moment for as long as possible.

Every single moment had filled him with relief and joy. No secrecy, no fear, no fleeting meetings in the depths of night—it was like a blessing, being able to love loudly, freely. 

The moment truly felt infinite. 

And then, in an instant, gone,

Pulling him back to reality with a harsh and violent jerk.

The late afternoon sky was now game, replaced by the morning sun, birds chirping now the shrill beeping of his alarm clock.

The beams of sunlight that peered through his curtain were harsh and unrelenting.

He blinked and groaned quietly, burying his face deep into his pillow as he haphazardly smacked at his alarm clock. 

With a shaking inhale, he rolled over and stared at his ceiling as if it could somehow show him his dream once more. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could still feel the weight of your head on his shoulder, or feel your hand in his… but instead, he just pushed himself upright, turning to stare out the crack between the curtains.

A night without you still was filled with the remnants of what once was, or rather what could have been—of nights spent laughing in the streets, seeking out one another, letting the hope of a better tomorrow blossom into something beautiful…

Somewhere in his mind and heart, Hiragi refused to give that up, no matter what challenges may stand before him.

Tirelessly, he searched for you. From side streets to rooftops, forgotten underpasses and grassy hills. Anywhere that you may have been, he checked.

But you were always the one who hid better than he did. 

So, you remained elusive. Whether it was from embarrassment, or perhaps Shishitoren learned of your whereabouts, Hiragi could not find you anywhere. Not that it deterred him—the opposite really.

Every night, he wandered, desperately hoping to stumble upon you once again. The hours of dark stretched into one another, the muddled blend of crickets, cicadas, and streetlights intertwined with his thoughts of you—-your laughter, your smile, the obscure questions that only you would ever think to ask.

Days became meaningless passages of time, amounting to nothing until finally, a glimmer of hope.

In the distance, perched on the edge of a bridge, was a single figure. 

Hesitantly, Hiragi grew closer, with each step, the bridge groaned beneath his feet. The sound caused you to turn toward him, the moonlight illuminating your profile as you looked up at the one you cared so deeply for. The somber expression on your face pained him to no end.

“Hey there, superspy…” His voice was cautious as he spoke, he tried to give a small smile as he got closer, doing his all to convince you not to run off immediately.

You huffed out a soft breath, a humorless laugh at best, “Yeah, right… Guess I really didn’t want you to find me for once.”

“Mm,” he hummed, stepping closer as he sat beside you—not close enough to touch, but enough to feel your warmth. “Guess I’m too stubborn to stop looking.”

“Guess so…”

Silence fell between you, heavy, tense, and filled with ache. 

His heart pounded with anticipation, so many unspoken words hung in the air between you that you both so clearly wished to utter… Yet neither of you could find your voice.

The pause stretched on, but eventually you shifted, angling your body toward his as you spoke, “I’m sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

“I should’ve mentioned… at some point or another, that I was… I don’t know, affiliated with Shishitoren. I just didn’t want to ruin… this.” You gestured between the two of you, your voice was weak and hesitant. It was a stark contrast to the bubbly and energized you he had come to love. “I didn’t want to be kicked out of this side of town, or chased off, or start a whole stupid fight between the two sides… but that happened anyway and—”

“Stop,” he sighed, shifting to mirror your pose, “I was upset. I’m still kind of hurt, but… I can’t necessarily blame you. The blood was bad for a long time… I can see why you wanted to just… be you.” He spoke softly, his fist was clenched at his side for a moment before he relaxed and reached out. Hovering over yours for a brief moment, then taking your hand in his. “I just wish you’d told me once you realized I was here to stay.”

You nodded, looking at your hand in his, your voice choked in your throat.

“You know,” he whispered, giving you a small lopsided grin, “I might not like sneaking around at night like this, but for you… it’s worth it. Anything is worth it. I just don’t want to lose you—I can’t lose you.”

You nodded again, heart clenching as you held loosely onto his hand. You turned back to look out at the water you shifted closer to him, your shoulder brushing gently against his.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” His words were soft, filled with yearning and adoration. He gently laced his fingers with yours, holding on as if you may slip away once again.

“It always is.” Your head found his shoulder, the world around you two feeling still and at rest.

The water below quietly lapped against the shore, crickets chirped, the distant hum of cars, you close to him—everything was as it should be.

It wasn’t perfect, no. Not even close.

But one day it would be.

Inevitably.

Crossposted on my other socials.

[lunaticalphy]

This is so beautiful!!!!

Goshhhhh 😭😭😭why am i crying

[alecrysalia]

chat am i the only one who ships them. im. starved. of fanworks. of these two.

i absolutely adore their platonic dynamic too, like i just honestly appreciate them together in GENERAL, BUT

please. i need moere fnaworksd of themmenf (i might as well start drawing SOBBINGGGG)

[oldmama]

Full size (sorry for the blurry pic)

[lunaticalphy]

Kaji look sooooooo tiny🤏🏻

[oldmama]

[birdybomb]

Hiragi in a suit!

[5water-kohaku]

[biggianteggplant]

Reader getting asked by haikyuu guys to watch over their pets while running some errands ranting and confessing their whole life to the pet lol not knowing the guys heard her

HINATA SHOYO

The room was quiet. A little too quiet.

Y/n sat cross-legged on Hinata’s bed, gently poking at the hamster cage on his nightstand. Inside, a tiny cinnamon-colored fluffball waddled over to the bars, twitching his nose like he knew tea was about to be spilled.

She smiled softly. “Hey, little guy. You probably don’t understand me, but I gotta talk to someone before I explode and eat dry wall.”

The hamster blinked at her. Innocent. Judgement-free. The best kind of therapist.

She sighed, playing with the edge of her sleeve. “Your dad—or whatever Hinata is to you—is kind of… ugh. A lot. You know that, right?”

The hamster tilted his head. A single squeak.

“Exactly,” she said with a weak laugh. “He’s so—so loud. So bright. And he smiles like the sun and gets excited about everything, even vending machines. And it’s annoying. Like… painfully cute. Do you get it?”

Silence. Fluffball stared back.

Y/n leaned in closer, whispering like they were co-conspirators. “I think I’m in trouble. Like, real trouble. I like him. A lot.”

Her face warmed. She hid it behind her hands for a second before peeking at the hamster again. “He gave me strawberry milk the other day and said it reminded him of me because it’s ‘sweet and makes him hyper.’ Who says stuff like that?!”

A rustling sound downstairs made her freeze.

“…If you tell him I said any of this, I swear—”

“Tell me what?”

Y/n froze.

She turned slowly.

Hinata stood in the doorway, holding a snack tray and looking way too curious.

Y/n: “NOTHING I WAS JUST—I WAS TALKING TO THE HAMSTER.”

Hinata raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Are you jealous of my pet? Or were you confessing to him?”

“Shoyo I will throw you out the window.”

He laughed—big and bright and so unfair—as he walked over and sat beside her.

The hamster squeaked again.

Hinata smirked. “I think he ships us.”

ASAHI AZUMANE

Y/n side-eyed the giant white bird chilling in its fancy cage like it paid rent. The cockatoo blinked back at her with the smugness of someone who knew all your secrets. Because, apparently, it did.

She leaned in closer, holding a sunflower seed like she was about to make a deal with the mafia. “You better behave today, feathered gremlin.”

The cockatoo took the seed and blinked innocently.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Y/n whispered. “Last week you screamed when I sneezed. You are not slick.”

The bird continued chewing.

Y/n settled onto Asahi’s couch with a sigh. He was out “foraging” a.k.a. getting the bird more organic trail mix from that overpriced pet store. Honestly, she didn’t mind. She got alone time with Mr. Feathers… and the living room that suspiciously always smelled like Asahi’s cologne.

She glanced around, then leaned toward the cage again, whispering like she was about to commit a federal crime.

“Okay, listen,” she said, crossing her arms. “I don’t know why I keep coming here. I mean, yes I do. It’s him. I’m not proud of it. But here I am. Babysitting a judgmental feathery narc just to hang out with a man who probably thinks I’m here for you.”

The cockatoo tilted its head.

“I mean, have you seen him?” she continued, eyes wide. “Tall. Gentle. Looks like a forest god. Carries groceries with one hand like it’s nothing. And when he ties his hair up—OH, don’t get me started on the man bun. I would marry that man bun. Like, officiate a ceremony right now, bird, I swear.”

The cockatoo gave a soft whistle.

Y/n sighed dramatically. “It’s just not fair. He probably sees me as this weird friend of a friend who’s always here mooching off his air conditioning and pretending not to stare at his arms. Arms, bird. Like—who gave him permission?!”

The cockatoo slowly began climbing up its perch.

“Also, for the record,” she added, pointing, “you’re evil. You look like a cute puffball but deep down you’re plotting my downfall. I can feel it in my soul.”

And that’s when it happened.

A pause.

A blink.

And then—

“SHE THINKS YOU’RE DADDYYYYY.”

Y/n froze.

“…Excuse me?”

The cockatoo strutted across its perch like it had just delivered the winning line of a roast battle.

“HOT MAN WITH JUICE ARMS,” it yelled.

Y/n screamed internally. “STOP—YOU’RE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO TALK—”

“I WANNA BITE HIS FOREARMS.”

Y/n clutched the couch cushion like a lifeline. “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!”

The bird flared its crest, proud and majestic and also the devil.

And then—the door clicked.

Asahi, holding a bag of bird food and a reusable tote full of those coconut water drinks no one liked except him.

“Hey, sorry I took long, they were out of the—”

“I WANT TO SIT ON HIS LAP AND CRY.”

Asahi paused. Mid-step. Eyes wide. Brain buffering.

Y/n: buffering harder.

The bird was not done.

“WELCOME HOOOOOME, DELICIOUS TREE MAN.”

Asahi dropped the grocery bag.

Y/n dropped her soul.

She slowly turned toward him, face bright red, limbs stiff, voice high-pitched. “I—uh—I DIDN’T TEACH HIM THAT I PROMISE—”

Asahi blinked slowly. “...Delicious tree man?”

Y/n shrieked. “DON’T REPEAT IT—”

The bird screamed, “CRADLE ME LIKE A BABY—OH WAIT THAT’S HER—”

And that was the final straw.

Y/n tripped over the rug trying to run and slammed to the floor in front of Asahi like a fish trying to escape the tank. She lay there. Broken. Defeated. Possibly concussed.

Asahi rushed over, crouching beside her, flustered and awkward and absurdly hot. “Y/n?! Are you okay???”

She groaned into the carpet. “Do you have a bird-size jail cell. I need a moment with your snitch.”

The cockatoo cackled in the background like it was possessed.

Asahi gently helped her sit up, trying not to laugh. “You know… he only repeats things he hears a lot.”

Y/n blinked.

Realized.

And died internally all over again.

“Oh my god. I’m never showing my face here again,” she muttered.

But Asahi was smiling. Soft. Adoring. Flushed.

“You could,” he said quietly, brushing her hair out of her face, “just say it to me next time.”

Y/n gaped.

The bird chirped in the background, “NOW KISS.”

TIMESKIP! KOUSHI SUGAWARA

Let’s get one thing straight

You didn’t choose to fall in love with Sugawara Koushi.

No, no. That was an ambush.

A tactical, strategic, perfectly executed emotional ambush with bonus dimples.

And it wasn’t fair.

Not when he smiled like sunshine and smelled like safety and had that gentle but I will assign a pop quiz just to humble you energy that made your heart do cartwheels in a full-blown panic attack.

Also not fair?

His pet mous.

Yes, a mouse. In a classroom. Living rent-free in a tiny cage next to the window. Named cheese.

Personality: suspiciously nosy and loves chewing through secrets.

You’d been assigned clean-up duty in Suga’s homeroom all week — and by “assigned” you meant you had volunteered with the desperation of someone trying to inhale proximity like oxygen.

So there you were.

On your third consecutive day of "accidentally" staying late to sweep a room that didn’t need sweeping.

And for some reason, you were talking to the mouse again.

“…I’m just saying,” you whispered, gently sliding your fingers through the bars of the cage as cheese’s tiny pink nose twitched. “He should NOT be allowed to smile at students like that. It’s an emotional hazard.”

cheese blinked.

“And those sleeves?? Rolled up? What does he want me to do, DIE in this room?”

The mouse crawled onto the wheel and started spinning.

“Oh, don’t start with me. You live with him. I know you’ve seen it. He keeps adjusting his tie and looking all put-together and vaguely ethereal like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to my central nervous system—"

Rustle.

Something brushed your hand.

You looked down.

cheese was out of the cage.

You: “What the—how—??”

The little rodent scurried right into your sleeve, like a fuzzy lie detector, and parked itself near your shoulder like it was settling in for the next round of confessions.

You nearly screamed. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN THERE—OH MY GOD, GET OUT—”

The door creaked.

You froze. Mouse in sleeve. Soul in shambles.

Sugawara peeked in, holding a warm drink and a bag of cheese crackers. “Hey, Y/n, you left your—why do you look like you saw a ghost?”

You smiled with the terror of someone harboring secrets and rodents. “Nope. Totally normal. Nothing’s happening. No crimes here.”

cheese, the demon, began moving.

You flinched. Suga noticed.

“…Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer with concern blooming on his face.

cheese, sensing your doom, POPPED OUT OF YOUR COLLAR LIKE A HORROR MOVIE JUMPSCARE.

You screamed.

Suga dropped the crackers.

cheese ran straight up his arm and into his hoodie, like this was just another Tuesday.

A moment of stunned silence passed.

“…So,” Sugawara said, still calm as ever, “Did cheese climb into your shirt while you were—what, pouring your soul out to her again?”

You choked. “YOU KNEW???”

He smiled. “You’ve been monologuing at her like a Shakespearean love-struck gremlin for three days. I thought it was cute.”

He picked up the mouse with practiced ease. “She likes you, you know.”

“Oh, I can tell,” you muttered, face fully on fire. “She cuddled my pancreas.”

Suga laughed softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “She’s got good taste. Just like me.”

Pause.

Your brain: BUFFERING…

“…Wait, are you saying—?”

“I like you, dummy,” he said, grinning. “Why else do you think I keep assigning you mouse duty instead of actual cleaning?”

You gaped.

cheese squeaked like she was tired of carrying this ship alone.

Suga offered the crackers with a wink. “Stay for a snack?”

You nodded, dazed.

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

You loved Yamaguchi Tadashi.

Not in a chill, “aw he’s sweet” kind of way.

No.

You loved him in a stupid, life-ruining, can’t-breathe-when-he-smiles-at-you kind of way. The kind of way that makes you text your friends “he said good morning i am deceased 💀” and then proceed to overanalyze his tone for four business days.

The problem?

Besides your terminal crush disorder?

His frog.

His beloved, sacred, unholy frog.

Sir Croak-A-Lot.

A slimy, smug-looking little demon that lived in a terrarium in Yamaguchi’s room like it paid rent.

Now, were you scared of frogs?

Terrified.

You once cried in 9th grade because a baby toad jumped near your foot.

You saw Kermit and felt genuine anxiety.

So when Yamaguchi asked if you could feed Sir Croak-A-Lot while he and Tsukki were at a training camp for three days?

You should’ve said no.

You should’ve lied.

You should’ve said you were allergic to amphibians. Or Catholic.

But alas. You said, “Sure! No problem :)” because your love was irrational and so was your judgment.

Cut to now.

You’re standing four feet from the terrarium with a pair of tongs, shaking like you’re disarming a bomb.

Inside, Sir Croak-A-Lot blinked once. Slowly. Menacingly.

“…Hi,” you whispered. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Let’s keep it that way.”

He licked his eyeball.

You gagged.

“Listen,” you said shakily. “I only agreed to this because I love your owner. Like. Deeply. He has pretty eyes and a nice laugh and says ‘thank you’ to vending machines. So if you could just not move while I drop this worm in, that’d be great.”

The frog didn’t respond.

You leaned closer, whispering like a therapist. “Do you think he knows? That I like him?”

Sir Croak-A-Lot launched halfway across the tank.

You shrieked.

Fell backward.

And somehow—somehow—knocked over a decorative lamp and landed with your foot stuck under Yamaguchi’s beanbag chair like you were in a live-action episode of FailArmy.

“OH MY GOD,” you gasped. “THIS IS IT. THIS IS HOW I DIE. DEATH BY FROG PANIC.”

And that’s exactly when the front door opened.

“Hey! I’m back early—Tsukki twisted his ankle and—wait, Y/N???”

Yamaguchi dropped his bag at the sight of you lying dramatically on the carpet, tangled in furniture and trauma.

You froze like a raccoon caught raiding the trash.

“…Hi,” you squeaked.

He blinked. “Are you okay?”

“Define okay,” you wheezed. “Do I have frog-related emotional damage? Yes. Did your amphibious son try to murder me via eye lick and surprise launch? Also yes.”

Yamaguchi covered his mouth, but it was too late. He was laughing. Hard.

“You’re scared of him?”

“I’M SCARED OF ANYTHING THAT CAN JUMP WITHOUT WARNING AND LOOKS LIKE A WET THUMB.”

You tried to crawl backward. The frog stared at you. Probably plotting.

Yamaguchi, wiping tears from his eyes, finally helped you up.

“You know,” he said softly, “you could’ve just said no.”

You pouted. “I was trying to be brave. For you.”

He tilted his head. “Why for me?”

And there it was. The moment.

You took a deep breath. “Because I like you. Like. Capital-L Like. And I was trying to prove I could survive Frogageddon to be worthy.”

There was a beat.

Then another.

And then—

“…You like me?”

You nodded, ready to leap out the nearest window.

And then Yamaguchi smiled.

That sweet, surprised, glowing kind of smile that made you want to cry in the good way.

“I like you too,” he said. “Even if you’re scared of Sir Croak-A-Lot.”

You whispered, “Don’t say his name. He can hear you.”

Yamaguchi laughed again, bright and golden.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Let’s go get ice cream. You’ve earned it.”

You blinked. “What about your frog?”

He smirked. “He’s already heard all your secrets. I think he approves.”

You glared at the terrarium.

Sir Croak-A-Lot blinked.

You swore he was smiling.

KITA SHINSUKE

You were house-sitting for Kita while he was at his grandmother’s for the weekend. Just two days. Easy.

Feed the plants. Water the dog.

Wait, no. Feed the dog. Water the plants. Right.

You sat cross-legged on the tatami floor, staring into the eyes of Maru, his perfectly polite, unbothered Shiba Inu, who sat like a loaf of judgment on the rug.

“So,” you began, cracking open a bag of dog treats like it was a therapy session, “you ever just… fall in love with your best friend and then try to play it cool but everything about them makes you spiral?”

Maru blinked.

Took a treat.

Did not judge.

“You know what I mean, right?” you continued. “Like, his hands? Always clean. Nails trimmed. Washes rice properly. Says ‘thank you’ to cashiers. Pet a cat once and the cat followed him for two blocks.”

You threw your hands up. “I am but a feral raccoon next to his divine, Shiba-like serenity.”

Maru gave a soft "boof" and placed a paw gently on your leg.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I feel seen.”

You sighed and fell dramatically backwards onto the floor. “He probably doesn’t even know I like him. He probably just thinks I like his dog. Which, like, yes, Maru, you’re perfect—but I would walk barefoot across a LEGO swamp for that man.”

Unbeknownst to you…

Kita Shinsuke was standing at the door.

He had come home early. With dog food. And mochi. And a quiet hope that maybe you’d still be there when he got back.

What he didn’t expect was to walk into a full-blown emotional TED Talk, starring you and his emotionally grounded dog.

He stood frozen for a second. Processing. Emotionally buffering.

And then Maru turned to him. Tail wagged once. Loudly.

You sat up and blinked. “Did—did your dog just betray me?”

Kita cleared his throat gently, holding up the bag of mochi like it could protect him. “I came home early.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Your soul flew out the window and knocked over three houseplants on the way.

“So,” he said, still calm as ever. “You’d walk across a LEGO swamp for me?”

You choked. “I was having a moment with your dog.”

Kita stepped forward, placed the mochi on the table, and gently sat next to you. Maru climbed into his lap like this was all very normal.

“I like you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes with his calm samurai energy. “I was hoping you'd say something. I just didn’t think it would be to Maru.”

“…Your dog is emotionally available,” you whispered, near tears.

Kita smiled softly. “He’s a good listener. But I’m here now.”

You nodded. “Okay. Cool. Casual. Normal.”

Then you fell backwards again.

Flat on the tatami mat.

Kita reached out a hand.

Maru boofed.

The rest was history.

SUNA RINTARO

You didn’t expect to become a ferret mom.

And yet… here you were.

At Suna Rintaro’s apartment. Again. Babysitting Tofu the demon noodle who loved you more than life itself.

“Tofu,” you said flatly, as you tried to pry him out of your hoodie. “Personal space is a concept. Have you considered learning it?”

Tofu squeaked.

And burrowed deeper.

Right between your boobs.

Like it was his God-given right.

You choked. “Tofu, PLEASE—”

He chirped again, did a little death roll (like a dolphin but pervier), and went limp. Fully. Asleep.

Dead center of your chest.

You sat there, frozen, like someone had just shoved a warm tube sock filled with judgment down your shirt.

“Why are you like this?” you whispered. “You don’t even know me like that.”

Except he did.

Because this wasn’t the first time.

Oh no.

The first time was three weeks ago, when Suna left you alone in his room for five minutes, and Tofu took it as a green light to commit chest-based crimes.

Now? It was a routine.

You: *exist*

Tofu: *insert ferret into boob crevice like USB into a port*

You had tried pushing him away.

He bit your pinky and squeaked in betrayal.

You had tried wearing tight shirts.

He dug through the neckhole like a horny mole.

You had tried explaining to Suna that this was technically harassment.

Suna? Had the nerve to smirk and go,

“Damn. Guess he has good taste.”

You wanted to scream.

And now here you were.

Tofu snoring.

You, boob-napped.

And Suna… Suna had just walked back in the room.

With a bag of chips.

And a shit-eating grin.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like a man in a shampoo commercial, “should I be jealous?”

You shot him a look. “Control your ferret.”

He snorted. “He’s his own man.”

“He’s IN MY CLEAVAGE.”

“And clearly thriving.”

You flailed, trying to scoop the gremlin out of your hoodie, but Tofu clung tighter, squeaking in protest like you were trying to rip him from his soulmate.

“Rin,” you groaned. “He’s making muffins on my sternum.”

Suna, now sitting beside you, casually popped open the chips and leaned over to look.

Tofu chirped softly in his sleep.

“…Yeah, he’s definitely in love with you,” Suna said, crunching loudly.

“I am NOT about to be second place to your emotionally needy lint roller.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he replied, eyeing how red your face was. “You let him do that a *lot*.”

“I DIDN’T LET HIM—!!”

He held up a chip like a peace offering. “C’mon. Admit it. You like him.”

“…I like you.”

Silence.

You blinked.

OH NO.

Did you say that OUT LOUD?!

Tofu squeaked.

You squeaked harder.

Suna slowly turned his head, one brow raised.

“…Sorry?” he said, too calm.

You swallowed. “I said. I like you. Not just your ferret. Although he is—um—very warm.”

Tofu chose that moment to roll over and kick his leg out like he was dreaming of tax evasion.

Suna just looked at you.

And then—

“You know,” he muttered, voice lower, almost teasing, “I was gonna wait. Say something later.”

You stared.

“But watching you get dominated by a noodle rodent in HD kind of forced my hand.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Am I?” he smirked. “Or are you just embarrassed your cleavage is his new studio apartment?”

You punched him in the arm.

He laughed.

Then leaned in closer.

“…For the record,” he murmured, voice softer now, “I like you too.”

You smiled. Blushing.

Tofu squeaked again in his sleep.

You sighed. “This is gonna be such a weird love story to explain to our kids.”

MIYA ATSUMU

“HEY, SEXY!”

You screamed.

The bird screamed louder.

It flapped into the air like a flying megaphone, doing loop-de-loops and whistling the Jaws theme song, while you dodged for your life and yelled, “ATSUMU, WHY IS YOUR BIRD CATCALLING ME?!”

From the kitchen, he casually called back, “Oh, yeah, that’s just Cap’n. He likes ya.”

Cap’n, short for Captain Miya, had perched on the curtain rod now, head cocked like a sassy little pirate. He whistled again. Twice.

You narrowed your eyes. “…Did he just do the ‘two whistle flirt’ from TikTok?”

“Yup,” Atsumu grinned, walking in with snacks. “Taught him that m’self.”

You stared at the cockatiel. He winked. HE WINKED.

From then on, every time you came over, Cap’n Miya acted up.

He would land on your shoulder like he owned the place, try to nest in your hair, and once—once!—bit Atsumu on the nose when he tried to sit too close to you on the couch.

“Is your bird jealous of you?” you asked.

Atsumu blinked. “Honestly? I think he wants t’fight me for ya.”

Cap’n screeched from the top of the bookshelf and then proceeded to yell

“BACK OFF! BACK OFF! MINE!!”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?”

Atsumu laughed so hard he dropped his cup noodles.

The problem is… you started talking to Cap’n like he was your therapist.

Like—full sit-down sessions.

“Do you think Atsumu flirts with everyone or just me?”

Cap’n Miya, fluffing up dramatically and turning his head upside down:

“OOOH YOU LIKE HIM~!”

“NO I DON’T.”

STOMP STOMP “LIAR!”

You blinked. “Birds… birds can’t stomp.”

Cap’n literally stomped again.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.”

Cap’n

“You wanna KISS HIM~!”

You shrieked and ran into the bathroom.

From outside, muffled through the door, you heard:

“KISSY KISSY! MWAH MWAH~”

You clutched your head and whispered to yourself, “Why do I feel like I’m being bullied by a sentient feather duster.”

The final straw was when Atsumu came home early while you were babysitting the bird.

You didn’t know he was there. So you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, nose-to-beak with Captain Miya, whispering like a deranged villain in a Disney spin-off

“Listen here, you feathered narc. If you repeat one more thing about my feelings for your stupid hot owner, I will personally turn you into an overpriced pillow from Etsy.”

“Uhhhh…”

You froze.

That voice did not come from the bird.

You turned your head so slowly, it might’ve cracked your spine.

There stood Atsumu, gym bag half-zipped, one eyebrow raised, towel over his shoulder, hair damp from shower sweat and god probably—

“Did… did ya just threaten t’commit war crimes on my bird?”

You blinked.

Cap’n Miya, little devil that he was, launched himself from the couch, fluttered dramatically into the air like a WWE entrance, and screamed at the top of his lungs:

“SHE LOVES YOUUUU~!!!”

“YOU’RE HOT!!!”

“KISSY KISSY~!!! MWAH MWAH—”

Your soul left your body. Your brain short-circuited. Your dignity? Deceased.

You backed into the corner like a cornered raccoon, muttering, “Okay I can explain—”

But Atsumu didn’t laugh this time.

No. He grinned.

That dangerous, cocky grin that made you regret every time you told yourself he wasn’t your type.

He dropped the gym bag.

Took three steps forward.

You tried to speak— “I– okay– I– it’s not—” But he cut you off by gently moving your hand off the bird, brushing your cheek with his knuckles, and leaning in close enough that you could smell the orange Gatorade on his breath.

“Shoulda told me sooner,” he whispered. Then—

He kissed you.

Right there. Soft. Warm. Just a little bit smug.

Captain Miya exploded into a cacophony of squawks and whistles like a drunk DJ mashing buttons in excitement.

“WOOOOOOOOO~!!” “Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND! Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND!”

You groaned into Atsumu’s chest. “Can we put him in bird jail now.”

Atsumu laughed. “Nah, babe, I owe him one. He’s the best wingman I ever had.”

The bird fluffed up, preened himself proudly, and screamed:

“YOU’RE WELCOME, LOSERS!!!”

MIYA OSAMU

You didn’t think Osamu would leave you alone with his cat.

But he did.

Bold of him, honestly.

You’d dropped by to bring him lunch at his onigiri shop, only for him to shove his keys into your hand with a casual “Can ya check on Tuna? He gets cranky if he misses his 3PM nap snack.”

And now here you were.

Sprawled on Osamu’s couch.

With a large, judgmental, biscuit-making cat rhythmically kneading your chest like it owed him money.

“Dude,” you muttered, glancing down at the fluffy orange menace. “That is not sourdough. Chill.”

Tuna, the certified loaf, just stared up at you with his half-lidded judgmental eyes and kept kneading.

Right on your boobs. Unbothered. Unapologetic. Purring like a damn engine.

You were frozen. This was NOT what you signed up for when you agreed to babysit a “sleepy little guy.”

“I’m gonna start charging rent,” you warned, hand hovering above his head. “You’re getting way too comfy on my chest. That’s premium real estate.”

Tuna blinked slowly. Then—

Touched your lips.

One soft paw.

Boop.

You went still. He went still.

“Bro,” you whispered. “You did not just—”

Then the paw slipped.

Just a little.

Just enough that one single toe bean dipped into your mouth.

You GAGGED.

You sat straight up, flailing, almost throwing the cat off the couch in the chaos.

“WHY. WHY DID YOU PUT YOUR PAW IN MY MOUTH?! ARE YOU OKAY?? AM I OKAY?? ARE WE DATING NOW???”

Tuna just looked at you.

Still on your chest. Still purring. Like he knew.

Like he’d seen things.

Like he was about to ruin your life with one meow.

And that was when Osamu walked in.

Bag of groceries in one hand. Keys in the other. Stopped dead in the doorway.

Tuna blinked.

Then turned to Osamu and let out the longest meow you’d ever heard. Like he was filing a report.

“...What’s goin’ on here?” Osamu asked slowly, eyes narrowing.

You sat there, hand mid-air, cat still ON YOUR CHEST, guilty as hell, toe bean residue probably still on your tongue, and said:

“…This is not what it looks like.”

Osamu blinked once.

Twice.

Then he smirked—smirked.

“Y’let Tuna put his paw in yer mouth, and I’m the one who gets flirty accusations?”

You spluttered. “It was involuntary mouth-to-paw contact!”

“Oh, sure,” he said, setting the bag down, strolling toward you. “Next thing I know, ya tell me ya kissed him goodnight and shared a milkshake.”

“Tuna’s a menace,” you whispered, as Tuna began biscuit-making again on your chest like a smug fluffy dictator.

“Yeah, well,” Osamu said, now inches from you. “You’re the one lettin’ him feel you up.”

You glared. “That’s it. Both of you are getting neutered.”

Tuna yawned.

Osamu just laughed and leaned down, brushing your cheek with his lips. “You’re cute when you’re panicked.”

“Don’t. Encourage. The cat.”

Brrrrt, Tuna purred, snuggling deeper into your chest.

This was HIS spot now.

ARAN OJIRO

“Just a few hours,” Aran had said, tossing you Sunny’s leash with a lazy grin. “He’s super chill. Loves cuddles, snacks, and sunbathing on the floor. You’ll be fine.”

You believed him.

Because Aran always said things like that — smooth, casual, confident — with that deep voice and warm smile that made you want to believe everything was gonna be okay.

But everything was not okay.

You lasted exactly 3.5 minutes before you realized you were babysitting a golden retriever version of a frat boy.

Sunny — fluffy, golden, tail wagging at light speed — greeted you by jumping straight into your arms like a literal missile, smothering your face in wet, overly enthusiastic kisses. He then proceeded to run full-speed into a wall, bounce off, and happily bring you one of Aran’s used gym socks like it was the crown jewels.

“...You’re insane,” you told him.

He barked once. Proudly.

_

You tried to calm him down. You really tried.

You gave him treats. He swallowed them whole.

You played fetch. He brought back a shoe from someone else’s doorstep.

You gave him water. He drank it… then sneezed directly into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Sunny—can you please chill?!”

Sunny did not chill.

No. Instead, when you bent over to pick up the sock he left under the coffee table, you felt it.That terrible pressure.

That cursed THUMP-THUMP rhythm on your leg.

You froze. Time stopped. The room fell silent. Eye twitched.

“…No. No no no no—”

You turned your head.

AND HE WAS DOING IT.

Sunny. HUMPING. YOUR. LEG.

Like it was the love of his life and this was the final scene of The Notebook.

“OH MY GOD—STOPPPPPP!”

You shook your leg. He held on tighter.

You screamed. He wagged his tail *faster*.

“ARANNNNNNN!!!”

Aran strolled in with a plate of sliced mango like he was walking out of a damn cooking show. “Everything alri—HOLY SHIT—SUNNY!! DOWN”

Sunny paused… and let out the most sinful, unholy moan you've ever heard in your life.

“HE MOANED. ARAN, YOUR DOG JUST MOANED.”

“He’s… expressive,” Aran offered weakly.

“He is horny, Ojiro.”

“I—I didn’t think he’d do this to you.”

“Why?! Because I don’t have a leg worth humping?”

“NO—wait, what? Noooo, baby girl—your leg is prime—wait, no, shit, I didn’t mean it like that—”

While Aran was busy fumbling over his words and dying from secondhand embarrassment, Sunny had the audacity to plop his butt on the floor, tongue out, tail wagging, as if to say “Round 2?”

You glared at him. “You’re going to dog jail.”

---

Later, once you’d locked Sunny in the bathroom for some *alone time* and Aran had recovered enough to look you in the eye again, you sat beside him on the couch, both slightly traumatized.

“…He really likes you,” Aran mumbled.

You side-eyed him. “If your version of like involves my thigh being emotionally and physically violated, I’m good.”

Aran chuckled, rubbing his hand down his face. “I’m sorry. He’s never like this. I swear.”

You crossed your arms, fake-pouting. “And yet I’ve become the object of his lust.”

He bit back a grin, leaning a little closer. “He’s got good taste.”

You blinked. “…Are you flirting with me while your dog is humping the air behind the door?”

Aran glanced at the bathroom. “He’s just… excited for us. He ships it.”

You snorted. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he grinned.

You didn’t.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

You were babysitting **TonTon**, Ushijima Wakatoshi’s beloved pet tortoise, while he was out at volleyball practice.

Yes. A tortoise.

He had texted you instructions like "feed him at 4 PM" and "make sure he doesn’t try to climb the stairs." Which, okay, fair, but also why did TonTon have a vibe like he would climb the stairs out of pure spite?

So now you were sitting on Ushijima’s floor, mid-spiral, holding a leaf of lettuce like it was a mic and TonTon was your therapist.

“Okay, listen, TonTon,” you said solemnly, watching the tortoise blink in that ancient, judgmental way. “I know you probably don't care, but I have to say it somewhere or I’ll explode and end up in jail for stealing this man’s hoodie.”

TonTon chewed slowly. Menacingly.

“I have a crush on your dad.”

Pause.

You immediately winced. “Wait, no—not your dad. Your owner. Not that he’s a daddy—oh my god what am I saying?”

You laid flat on the floor. TonTon just kept chewing like the elderly soul he was, showing zero mercy.

“I mean, look at him, TonTon,” you sighed dramatically, lettuce still in hand. “He’s calm. Grounded. Looks like he could crush someone emotionally and physically. And that one time he said my name during roll call? I had to sit down. Sit. Down.”

You fed TonTon another piece of lettuce like you were bribing him to forget everything.

“I’m losing it,” you mumbled. “Your dad—I mean, Ushijima—touched my shoulder once and I accidentally said ‘thank you’ like he handed me money.”

TonTon moved exactly one inch closer.

You stared at him, horrified. “Are you approaching me with judgment?”

Just then.

The door opened.

There he was. Ushijima. Home early. Towering. Holding a bag of lettuce like some divine, stoic salad god.

You and TonTon locked eyes like two criminals caught red-handed in the middle of a crime scene.

“I forgot my water bottle,” Ushijima said calmly. Then.. “Did you just say you have a crush on me?”

You considered becoming a tortoise. Right then and there. Crawling into a shell and disappearing for eternity.

“I—uh—no?” you squeaked.

TonTon chose violence and let out a crunchy CHOMP of betrayal.

Ushijima blinked. “TonTon only eats when he’s calm. He seems very calm.”

You were dying. Dying inside. “He’s… uh… really emotionally stable.”

“I know,” Ushijima said, now kneeling down to give TonTon a little pat. “Just like you.”

Your brain blue-screened.

“…Me?” you squeaked.

“Yes,” he said seriously. “You’re calm. Like a warm day. Sometimes unpredictable. But grounded. I like that.”

TonTon looked smug.

You looked like a ghost.

“I have to go,” Ushijima said, rising. “But… we can talk later. If you want.”

You nodded. Speechless.

As the door shut behind him again, you turned to TonTon.

“Snitch.”

TonTon blinked. Took another bite of lettuce.

TENDO SATORI

You were once a self-respecting human being.

Then you met Monty.

Monty the albino corn snake. Monty the slither noodle. Monty, who lived in a bougie glass tank in Tendo Satori’s room, complete with heat lamps, fake leaves, and a decorative log that looked suspiciously judgmental.

You hadn’t planned on trauma-dumping your entire romantic dilemma to a reptile. But here you were. Again. Sitting cross-legged on Tendo’s floor, babysitting Monty while Tendo ran to get snacks. And Monty was just staring. Unblinking. All-knowing.

“You know,” you said casually, resting your chin in your palm. “I feel like I’m losing it.”

Monty slithered halfway out of his log. A subtle movement. A threat.

“Don’t give me that look,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You’re not better than me just because you don’t pay taxes.”

Monty flicked his tongue.

You scoffed. “Okay, that was uncalled for.”

There was silence. The kind of silence that made you self-reflect.

“…Fine. I might like Tendo. A little. Like, an appropriate amount. Maybe. It’s not like I doodled our initials on my math notes or anything—” You paused. “Okay, I did. But just once.”

Monty moved closer to the glass.

You glared at him. “Do you have something to say? Huh? You wanna fight me, snakeboy?”

Monty tilted his head.

“Oh my god, you’re judging me.”

Monty stared deeper.

You broke.

“FINE! I think he’s cool, okay?! With his stupid long legs and his weird laugh and the way he remembers everyone’s birthdays even though no one asked?? And he makes the best popcorn and he lets me pick the movies even though I always choose psychological thrillers that mess us both up emotionally???”

Monty flicked his tongue again. A soundless “uh-huh.”

You sighed, lying flat on the floor in defeat. “He has no idea. I am a vault. A secret-holding fortress. A professional actor.”

Monty slithered into his water bowl and just stared at you through the water like a ghost from a horror movie.

“…Okay, you know what? That’s fair.”

The door opened.

You flinched and sat up so fast your spine cracked like bubble wrap.

Tendo peeked in, holding two bags of chips and a bottle of soda. “You two bonding again?”

You panicked. “WHO’S BONDING? I DON’T EVEN KNOW THIS SNAKE.”

Tendo blinked. “You literally named him ‘Monty Python’ last week.”

You froze. “I—Right. Yeah. Sorry. Just… rehearsing.”

“…Rehearsing?”

“For a play. Called *‘Snake Secrets and Stupid Feelings.’* It’s experimental.”

Tendo chuckled and walked in, setting the snacks down beside you. “You’re weird.”

You shrugged, still flustered. “Takes one to know one.”

He looked at you for a beat, and then… smiled. The soft kind. Not the chaotic grin. Not the teasing smirk. The kind that made your stomach do a full Olympic gymnastics routine.

“You know Monty likes you, right?” he said, sitting beside you.

You snorted. “What, did he text you or something?”

Tendo shrugged. “Sort of. He only comes out of his log when you talk. Usually he ignores people. Including me.”

You blinked. “Wait. He’s listening?!”

Tendo grinned. “Oh yeah. He knows everything.”

Monty slowly curled into a spiral. Very smug. Very I told you so.

You turned back to Tendou. “Does Monty also know I like you?”

Tendo’s eyes sparkled. “I did.”

“W-What?”

He leaned closer. “Monty’s been telling me everything.”

You pointed at the tank. “You’re telling me you’ve been using your snake as an emotional surveillance device?!”

Tendo laughed so hard he nearly dropped the chips. “You’re just mad he exposed you.”

You stood up dramatically. “I CAN’T BELIEVE I CONFESSED TO A COLD-BLOODED BETRAYER.”

Tendou grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you back down. “If it helps… Monty also told me I should make a move.”

You stared. “What kind of psychic snake is he?!”

Tendou leaned in. “The kind that gets you a date.”

Monty blinked. One. Slow. Judgy. Blink.

And honestly?

Respect.

AKAASHI KEIJI

Akaashi said he’d only be gone ten minutes.

Ten minutes to grab new ink refills and a croissant. Totally harmless. Totally innocent.

Except for the part where he left you alone in his apartment.

With Shigure.

His floppy-eared menace of a rabbit. Who blinked like a disappointed grandma and stomped like an angry roommate whenever you dared to lie in his sacred presence.

You sat on the floor, legs criss-crossed, glaring at the bunny who was currently chewing hay like he knew your whole emotional backstory.

“Okay, so maybe I used to like Akaashi,” you whispered like it was a crime. “But that was, like, two crushes ago. Old news.”

THUMP.

Shigure’s foot hit the floor like a gavel. You flinched.

“I’m serious! It’s just—he’s too polite. Too soft-spoken. Like a sexy ghost librarian. I don’t even like that type anymore.”

THUMP.

“…Okay fine, maybe I still think about his hands when I can’t sleep—”

THUMP. THUMP.

“SHIGURE, I’M LITERALLY BEGGING YOU TO STOP JUDGING ME.”

The rabbit paused. Tilted his fluffy head. Judgmental silence.

You groaned and collapsed backward on the carpet.

“It’s not my fault, okay? He always smells like fresh paper and morally sound decisions. He writes poetry for fun. I found a haiku about tea in his notebook once and I haven’t known peace since.”

Shigure hopped over and sat on your chest like he was claiming your sins.

“You don’t understand,” you continued, eyes wild now. “Yesterday he adjusted his glasses and I blacked out. I looked up and suddenly I had seventeen wedding boards on Pinterest—”

“...Should I be concerned?”

You froze.

Your soul left your body.

Akaashi was standing in the doorway. Holding a small paper bag. And his wallet. And the knowledge that you were a walking, talking, simping disaster.

“I forgot my—” he paused, eyes scanning the scene: you on the floor, his rabbit pinning you down like a fluffy demon, and the look of spiritual regret on your face.

“…what did I walk in on?”

Shigure hopped off you with the grace of a betrayer. Akaashi raised one brow.

“I—I—was—” you sat up, brain buffering, “talking to your rabbit. Like a normal person.”

“Mm,” Akaashi nodded slowly. “Normal people confess how much they love my hands… to my rabbit.”

You slapped your hands over your face. “Please delete me.”

“Can’t,” he said, too calmly. “You’re my favorite file.”

THUMP.

Shigure stomped again. Probably in approval.

You considered throwing yourself out the window. But then Akaashi walked over and offered you a second croissant.

You blinked. “You brought me food?”

“Well,” he said, smiling ever-so-slightly, “it seemed you were having a dramatic meltdown in my absence. I thought carbs might help.”

The bunny sat between you two.

Like a chaperone. Or a smug wingman.

You both pretended not to be flustered. Shigure knew better.

BOKUTO KOUTARO

Bokuto was out buying mango slices.

Why? Because Mango, his actual lovebird, threw a tantrum when he ran out yesterday. Screamed bloody murder. Flung seed. Launched herself off the curtain rod in dramatic betrayal. Bokuto nearly cried from guilt.

So now he was out.

Which left you… Alone. In his room. With Mango.

Who was currently clinging to your shirt like her tiny bird life depended on it.

You poked her gently. “I know you can’t talk. But we need to have a conversation about boundaries.”

Mango squawked. Then shoved her beak under your chin like, Affection now, clown.

You sighed, carefully scratching the top of her head. “This is all your fault. You and your bird dad. With his ridiculous arms and his sparkly eyes and the fact that he smells like coconut and competence—like who let him DO that?”

Mango, uninterested in your emotional spiral, was now climbing up your sleeve like a parrot ninja.

You continued, helpless, “He’s always like, ‘Heeeeyyyy~ Y/N!’ like he doesn’t know that I need five to ten business days to recover. He complimented my shoelaces yesterday. Shoelaces. I thought about it for four hours.”

Mango screamed.

Not just any scream. A direct, judgmental shriek. Bird-language for: “OH MY GOD GET A GRIP.”

“DON’T JUDGE ME,” you hissed. “YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE.”

Mango took off. FLYING. Circling the room like a feathery drone of chaos, knocking over a water bottle, a sock, and what might have been a protein bar. She landed dramatically on Bokuto’s desk, fluffed up like a warlord, and made direct, soul-piercing eye contact.

Then she STOMPED.

Yes. STOMPED.

A tiny lovebird foot came down in what can only be described as pure condemnation.

“EXCUSE ME???” you shouted. “Did you just… JUDGE-STOMP?”

She stomped again. Then leapt into the air and did what can only be described as an aerial backflip, landed on your head, and BURIED HER WHOLE FACE IN YOUR HAIR.

You screamed.

She screamed.

It was a duet of horror and mutual betrayal.

“I AM NOT IN LOVE,” you shrieked at her. “YOU’RE JUST TOO CUTE AND YOUR DAD IS TOO LOUD AND HOT, THAT’S NOT THE SAME THING.”

Mango flopped over dramatically on your head like a Disney princess fainting on a balcony.

You were about to start a full-on debate with this bird when the door opened.

“Hey, I’m back! They had the good mangoes—” Bokuto stopped. Stared. At you. On the floor. Hair fluffed. Face red. With his lovebird currently nuzzling your cheek like she’d claimed you in a sacred mating ritual.

You froze. He blinked.

Then…

“…She likes you more than she likes me,” he said, grinning.

“I don’t know what happened,” you whispered, internally sobbing. “She screamed. I screamed. There was stomping.”

Bokuto crossed the room in two long strides and offered you his hand, eyes crinkled with amusement. “She only does that when she’s really comfortable. Or when she senses crush energy.”

You took his hand in defeat. “Crush energy isn’t real.”

Mango screeched from your shoulder.

Bokuto: “That was her saying ‘liar.’”

You: “I hate this household.”

Bokuto: “So when’s the wedding? I’ll let her be the ring bearer.”

You: considering becoming a nun

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

You were once a normal person.

That was before Iwaizumi Hajime’s bearded dragon entered your life like a scaly, sunlamp-worshipping therapist with side-eyes sharper than a knife set.

You didn’t intend to talk to the reptile. But here you were. Again. Sitting on Iwaizumi’s couch while he ran to the pet shop for “crickets and calcium powder,” whatever that meant, and you were left with Spike — his little dinosaur son who blinked once every two business days and looked at you like you weren’t good enough for his dad.

“Okay, look,” you muttered, leaning forward on the couch, staring into his soulless yellow lizard eyes. “I know we don’t talk often, but I need to get this off my chest.”

Spike just stood there, basking under his heat lamp like the sun god he thought he was.

You sighed. “Do you think he likes me?”

Nothing.

You scooted a little closer. “Because like… he lets me sit in his spot on the couch. You know the one. The little dent where his butt lives.”

Spike did a very slow blink.

“That’s boyfriend behavior, right?”

Silence.

“Okay, maybe not. But he also gave me one of his hoodies once. Said it smelled like ‘gym and regret’ but I didn’t mind. I wore it for three days straight. Is that love?”

Spike turned his head just slightly to the left.

You gasped. “So it’s NOT love?! Are you telling me I’m delusional?!”

Spike raised one claw and rested it on his rock.

“…Don’t you dare judge me, scaly god. You don’t even pay rent.”

At that, Spike opened his mouth. Not a hiss. Not a squeak. Just an empty void of judgment.

You stood up. “You know what? No. I’m tired of living in fear of you. You’re not better than me. You eat bugs for breakfast.”

Spike moved an inch.

You flinched.

“...Okay. I didn’t mean that. You’re a very respectable reptile. Please don’t curse me.”

Spike turned away like you were beneath him.

You sat back down, defeated. “Fine. Maybe I’m projecting. Maybe I do like Iwaizumi. Maybe I imagine what our kids would look like. They’d be ripped and have moral integrity. That’s terrifying but beautiful.”

Spike looked back at you.

“…You’ve known this whole time, haven’t you?”

The door opened.

You jumped like you got caught cheating on a math test.

Iwaizumi walked in, holding a bag of groceries and one suspiciously specific bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Hey,” he said, walking over. “You good? Look like you saw a ghost.”

You laughed nervously. “Haha, no, not at all, I was just talking to Spike about taxes.”

Iwaizumi paused. “You… were talking to my lizard about taxes.”

“Yup. GDP. Inflation. The whole shebang.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Spike. “You told her, didn’t you?”

You blinked. “Told me what?”

Iwaizumi walked over, leaned down… and pressed the flowers into your hands. “That I like you.”

Silence.

Spike crawled onto his basking rock and nodded.

YOU SAW HIM NOD.

“WHAT IN THE DISNEY PIXAR—” you screamed, nearly throwing the flowers and falling off the couch.

Iwaizumi caught you with one arm, totally casual. “Told you he liked you. He doesn’t nod for just anyone.”

You looked between Iwaizumi and his judgmental dragon. “So you’re telling me… I confessed my situationship brain rot to a magical, semi-psychic bearded lizard… and he’s been your wingman this whole time?”

Spike licked his own eyeball.

“…Okay that’s fair.”

Iwaizumi chuckled. “So… dinner? I made yakisoba.”

“Also...you talk to Spike about me?!”

“Every Thursday.”

You blinked. “That’s unhinged.”

Iwaizumi smirked. “So are you.”

OIKAWA TOORU

You swore you weren’t scared of dogs.

But this—this was not a dog.

This was a 4-pound puff of chaos with beady eyes, trust issues, and an attitude worse than your ex.

Her name? Princess.

Her mission? Terrorize anyone who gets too close to Oikawa Tooru.

Her target? You. Always. Without mercy.

You were currently sitting on Oikawa’s couch, legs tucked neatly under you like someone preparing for a war crime, as Princess sat just one cushion away — staring you down like she knew your deepest sins.

She barked once.

Just one.

Loud. Piercing. Condescending.

“Stop judging me,” you muttered, glaring at her. “I haven’t even touched him.”

Princess growled softly, like she knew that was a lie.

You crossed your arms. “I mean—okay. Maybe I look at him. Occasionally. With longing. But like, who doesn’t?”

Princess blinked. You were pretty sure it was sarcastic.

You scooted an inch away. She scooted an inch closer.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “He trained you to hate me, didn’t he?”

She barked again, and you could feel the judgment radiating from her tiny, furry soul.

“Alright, fine! I like him, okay? Happy now? I like your stupid perfect owner with his stupid perfect face and his stupid little hair flips and his STUPID little wink when he wins at Mario Kart even though he’s CHEATING—”

“Is she threatening you again?” came a familiar voice from the hallway.

You froze.

Oikawa casually walked into the living room, holding a bowl of popcorn and two sodas. He raised an eyebrow as he caught the tail end of your emotional meltdown.

“Wait, back up,” he said slowly, placing the snacks down. “Did you just call me perfect?”

You blinked. “...No?”

Princess barked so violently she fell off the couch.

Oikawa laughed. “Wow, sold out by a dog. That’s rough.”

“She’s a traitor!” you yelled. “I’ve done nothing but feed her organic duck jerky and talk about how fluffy she is and she BETRAYED ME.”

He shrugged and plopped down beside you, grinning like a man who had just won an emotional lottery. “Well, I mean, Princess has high standards. She hates everyone. You should feel honored.”

You pointed at the tiny beast, now curled on your leg like she hadn’t just tried to destroy your life. “She literally growled at me when I complimented your volleyball highlight reel.”

“She has taste.”

“She BIT ME WHEN I SAID I LIKE YOUR SMILE.”

“She’s a wingdog,” Oikawa said smoothly. “And she’s working overtime.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but paused.

“…Wait. You knew?”

He smirked. “You confessed to my dog, Y/n. Loudly. For three separate visits in a row.”

“She doesn’t speak English!!”

He leaned closer. “But I do.”

You panicked. “Forget everything you just heard—”

“I like you too.”

Silence.

You and Princess both turned to him.

“…You do?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Duh. But I had to make sure *my daughter* approved.”

Princess barked once.

Oikawa scratched her chin. “She says yes. But also that you need to stop lying about my Mario Kart skills.”

You gasped. “YOU’RE STILL A CHEATER.”

He shrugged. “I cheat with style.”

Princess barked in agreement.

You stared at the two of them — a beautiful, chaotic man and his demon dog daughter.

And for some reason?

You felt home.

KYOTANI KENTARO

The first thing you noticed was the size.

Kyōtani’s rottweiler, Kiba, was less of a dog and more of a small horse. Muscles like a linebacker. A jaw like a bear trap. Eyes that said, “I’ve done some things. And I’d do them again.”

You stood at the door, holding the leash Kyōtani had just handed you, heart pounding.

“You sure he’s friendly?” you asked, eyeing Kiba, who was staring at you like you were either prey or his new mom.

Kyōtani blinked, utterly unbothered. “Yeah. He likes you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “He’s growling.”

“That’s his love language.”

Kiba, beside him, let out a low rumbly *gruff*… and licked his lips.

You swallowed. “…Okay.”

---

To be fair, Kiba didn’t attack you.

Nope. What he did instead?

Stalk you.

Everywhere.

Like a tank-sized shadow with a possessive streak.

You went to the kitchen? Click-clack — he followed.

Sat on the couch? Whomp — his head was on your lap.

Went to the bathroom? Scratch-scratch-scratch — your personal bouncer was outside the door like, “You good in there, princess?”

It was cute, in an I’m-a-little-afraid-he’ll-eat-me kind of way.

You peeked out of the hallway. “Kentarō… your dog keeps watching me like he wants to marry me or maul me. Or both.”

Kyōtani, lounging shirtless on the floor doing pushups (because of course he was), just shrugged. “He’s protective.”

“…So is he gonna let me leave? Or nah?”

“Nope,” Kyōtani said without looking up. “You live here now.”

---

Later that night, you tried to chill on the couch and maybe binge some trash TV.

Kiba climbed up beside you like he paid rent.

Then, without warning, he planted his whole body on your lap, head under your chin, grumbling and nuzzling. Like, “Pet me. Praise me. I own you.”

You glanced at Kyōtani.

“He’s… affectionate,” you said slowly, patting Kiba awkwardly as he snorted against your chest.

Kyōtani looked up from his phone, watching the two of you with that unreadable face of his — and then… smirked. Just a tiny one. Dangerous.

“He doesn’t do that with anyone else.”

“…Oh.”

Then, Kiba did something terrible.

He made a noise — like a low, dramatic sigh — and gently shoved his entire snout between your thighs.

“KYŌTANI.”

“I saw nothing.”

“YOUR DOG JUST WENT FACE-FIRST INTO THE TRIANGLE OF SIN—”

“He’s just sniffin’.”

“SNIFFING WHAT—THE MEANING OF LIFE?!”

You tried to push Kiba back, but he just grumbled, adjusted, and fell asleep with his whole body weighing down your legs and his chin casually resting on your upper thigh like it was a goddamn pillow.

“Great,” you muttered. “He’s crushing my femurs. I’m never walking again.”

Kyōtani got up, walked over, leaned down—and gave your cheek a light kiss.

You blinked. “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Kiba claimed you. So I’m claiming you back.”

You stared at him, brain rebooting.

Kiba let out a satisfied grunt in his sleep.

And from that moment on, you weren’t sure who was scarier

Kyōtani, his jealous rottweiler, or how much you liked both.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

You were terrified the first time Sakusa introduced you to his cat.

No fur. All wrinkles. Piercing, judgy stare.

It was like meeting the ghost of a rich widow’s ex-husband who died under *mysterious circumstances*.

“This is Hairball, ironic, I know ” Sakusa had said, like the creature hadn’t just hissed at you from its silk blanket throne.

That was six months ago.

Now?

Now you were at Sakusa’s apartment, laid back on his couch in a hoodie and shorts, with a completely naked, wrinkled, and slightly moist sphynx cat draped across your chest like a dramatic scarf.

Hairball, the emotionally unstable hairless gremlin, was aggressively purring—because you were giving him little chin scratches and whispering sweet nothings like

“Don’t worry, baby. I’d never let Omi cut your nailbeds too short again. That was emotional damage.”

Hairball purred louder, his alien-looking body vibrating like an angry cell phone. You were his safe space now. His chosen.

“Yeah, yeah. I know you hate that lavender shampoo. It makes you smell like a haunted grandma. I said go for the cucumber melon one, but did Omi listen? Nooooo—”

“Excuse me?”

You yelped—literally yelped—and whipped around.

Sakusa stood in the hallway with two mugs of tea and a very flat expression.

You hadn’t even heard him come in.

He looked at you.

Then at Hairball.

Then back at you, still pinned by a naked cat whose eyes were smug now.

“…Are you gossiping with my cat?” Sakusa asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

You immediately panicked. “NO. No. I was just—ventilating. Verbally. It’s a self-soothing technique. Therapists recommend it.”

Hairball looked Sakusa dead in the eyes and let out a single, long hiss.

Then licked your cheek.

Sakusa blinked. “Did you just get kissed before me. By my cat.”

“I—I didn’t ask for it!” you squeaked.

“Is that why you’re stroking his little gremlin belly and calling him your precious wart baby?”

Your jaw dropped. “I didn’t call him—!!”

“Oh, you did,” Sakusa said flatly, walking over and setting the mugs down.

Hairball stretched across you like the most dramatic runway model alive, paw smacking your boob like he paid rent there.

Sakusa stared.

“You’ve officially become the only person he lets touch him,” he muttered, almost bitterly.

You blinked. “Wait. Really?”

He narrowed his eyes. “He bit my aunt. Twice. He refuses to sleep next to me unless I put a heated towel down first. But you—he lets you stick your face in his belly folds and call him ‘my little wrinkly ass wart.’”

You coughed, trying not to laugh. “You heard that?”

Sakusa just gave you a look.

“You’re jealous,” you accused, grinning.

“I am not jealous of a cat.”

Hairball sneezed in Sakusa’s direction.

“...Okay, maybe a little,” he muttered.

You patted the space beside you. “Come cuddle with us, Omi.”

“No.”

“You can be the big spoon.”

“No.”

“You can be the little spoon.”

“I’m going to burn that hoodie if it smells like cat.”

Hairball meowed sweetly and patted your cheek with a wrinkly paw.

You smirked. “You’re just mad he got to second base before you.”

Sakusa blinked slowly.

Then sighed.

“…You’re both annoying.”

But five minutes later, guess who joined you on the couch with a clean towel so hairball wouldn't touch him directly?

Damn right.

KUROO TETSURO

Being roommates with Kuroo Tetsuro wasn’t bad.

Sure, he left hair gel on the sink and his dirty socks migrated to places no socks should be — like the microwave. But otherwise? Chill dude. Paid bills on time. Didn’t hog the bathroom. Made bomb curry.

And he had a cat.

A sleek, smug black cat named Tetsu who was, quite literally, his twin in feline form: sharp eyes, mysterious vibes, and a talent for making people feel like they were the pet.

Y/n didn’t mind him. Until this day.

“Kuroo,” she called from the kitchen, already regretting everything. “Your little demon just knocked over the tampon box again. WHY is that his favorite toy?!”

From his room: “He respects your womanhood.”

“HE ATE A PANTY LINER.”

“Okay. Disrespectful.”

She groaned, then froze as she spotted something.

Oh no.

Laundry basket. Top layer. Lacy underwear.

Tetsu was staring at it.

“No. Nope. Don’t even think abou—HEY!”

Too late.

He lunged like a perverted shadow gremlin, grabbed a black lace thong like it was the last Horcrux, and bolted under the couch with a speed that could shame Olympic sprinters.

“TETSU. GIVE. IT. BACK!”

Cue Y/n on her knees, arm deep under the couch, bargaining with a feline underwear thief while waving a piece of rotisserie chicken like a hostage negotiator.

She got it back.

But at what cost?

Later, she collapsed dramatically on the couch, flinging an arm over her eyes. Tetsu, satisfied with the chaos he’d unleashed, hopped onto her chest like he owned the lease.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. Sit on your throne, you fluffy war criminal,” she mumbled.

He purred. Innocently.

Then reached a paw up…

And touched her lips.

“…What.”

Another paw. Gentle. Testing. Then—boop. Toe bean to mouth.

“PPPFFFTTT—TETSU, YOU NASTY—”

She choked, flailing, as the little bastard slid deeper into her cleavage like it was a heated blanket, tucked in with the confidence of a man who paid rent.

“Oh my god—you’re not even subtle. This is harassment.”

Then, just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, she felt a tug.

She looked down.

His tiny claw had hooked her camisole strap and was gently trying to pull it down.

“Are you trying to undress me?! ARE YOU A PEEPING TOM IN A CAT COSTUME?!”

*Tug tug.*

“NO. STOP THAT. YOU CANNOT SEDUCE ME FOR FUNSIES.”

She was too stunned to fight. The camisole shifted slightly, and Tetsu nuzzled closer with a little sigh like this was just a Monday for him.

And that’s when Kuroo walked in.

The door opened mid-camisole-tug, mid-purr.

“Hey, I just got back from the groce—”

He froze.

Y/n. On the couch. Camisole half-yanked down, cheeks red, hair messy.

His cat? Kneading her chest like it was artisanal sourdough.

A long pause.

Kuroo: “...I leave you alone with my son for ten minutes and you let him motorboat you?”

Lea: “I DIDN’T LET HIM—HE TOUCHED MY MOUTH AND STARTED UNDRESSING ME—”

Kuroo: “...Was it mutual?”

“WHAT THE HELL—KUROO, GET YOUR PERVERT CAT OFF MY BOOBS!”

But Kuroo just set down the groceries and laughed so hard he had to lean on the counter.

“He likes you,” he said between wheezes. “He only gets freaky with people he trusts.”

“YOUR CAT VIOLATED ME.”

“That’s how I show trust too.”

“KUROO.”

He just grinned.

AONE TAKANOBU

When Aone said, “You can meet my pig,”

you did not think he meant a literal pig.

Not like…"Haha my dog eats like a pig!"

No.

This was a full-bodied, pink, snorting, cloven-hoofed, emotionally co-dependent mini pig named Yuki.

Mini, as in "not farm size," but absolutely not emotionally mini because this pig?

She loved you.

—

At first it was kind of cute.

Yuki trotted over, sniffed your leg, and immediately collapsed on your foot like,

"This is mine now. I’ve claimed you."

Aone just blinked and nodded.

“That means she trusts you,” he said.

You smiled, thinking,

“Aw. Sweet.”

WRONG.

Yuki was not here for a casual fling.

Yuki was in it for eternity.

You couldn’t sit without her flopping next to you.

You couldn’t walk without her trotting behind you like a shadow.

She screamed—squealed like a banshee—when you went into the kitchen without her.

And the real problem started when you tried to pee.

“Aone,” you whispered, trapped in the bathroom as Yuki oinked aggressively from the other side of the door, “She’s breathing under the crack. I can see her snout.”

You heard his deep, quiet voice from the hallway.

“She doesn’t like closed doors.”

“She’s THUMPING on the door.”

“She thinks you’re trapped.”

“She’s right.”

“I’ll… talk to her.”

But before Aone could come save you—the door opened.

Yuki headbutted her way in like a battering ram.

She trotted in, made DIRECT eye contact, then promptly sat on your foot again.

While you were still peeing.

You wept.

Yuki oinked with satisfaction.

From then on, you had no peace.

Yuki followed you around Aone’s house like a little judgmental ghost, occasionally making low snorting sounds like she was taking notes on your sins.

At one point, you caught her trying to climb onto Aone’s bed after you’d already sat on it.

She flopped between you both and let out a sound that somehow said

“You’re in MY spot.”

Aone just sighed and gave her a gentle pat.

“She’s never like this with anyone else.”

“I feel like I’m being held hostage by Peppa Pig.”

“She likes you.”

“She peed in my shoe.”

“She really likes you.”

But then—

The day came when you had to leave.

You were at the door, hugging Aone goodbye (the best 3-second hug of your life), when you heard a sound from behind:

Yuki.

Staring.

With wide, glistening, dramatic pig eyes.

She let out a long, slow, tragic oink.

You knelt down. “Yuki, I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise—”

And then she…

flopped over. Belly up. Arms out.

Like she had died of heartbreak.

You gasped. “Is she okay?!”

“She’s guilt-tripping you,” Aone said calmly, already holding her treat jar.

You blinked. “So she’s—”

He tossed her a banana chip. Yuki IMMEDIATELY sprang to life and snatched it from mid-air like nothing happened.

You stared at her.

Yuki stared back.

She knew what she was doing

You still came back the next day.

Because you were pretty sure this pig would hunt you down if you didn’t.

AHH GOOD LORD I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS DFNTLY ENJOYED ASAHI AND SUNA'S PART

[stellar-haikyuu]

love language ☆ ennoshita chikara x reader

synopsis: the team gets together to celebrate captain ennoshita's birthday. initially, you worry about your gift, but quickly find that it's the best decision you've made. details: fluff | friends to lovers | getting together | gift-giving and words of affirmation | ~2.5k words | gn third-year manager!reader | captain!ennoshita | requested by @ennoshitas-princess as part of my karasuno writing event

The winter is relentless at this time of year, you think to yourself as you speed-walk to the Sakanoshita store, tucking your hands into your pockets. Christmas day has just passed, and today is Ennoshita’s birthday. 

The Karasuno members, including the former upperclassmen, have gathered to celebrate their captain’s birthday. What started as a birthday get-together has taken on an extra layer of excitement: Karasuno is on the road to Spring High Nationals once again.

The team’s beloved convenience store comes into view, and you can already hear the chaotic chatter from outside. Sakanoshita was like a third home to you now, the second being the school gym.

As you slide the door open, the warmth embraces you immediately—the warmth of the store and the members.

"Hey! You’re just in time!” Nishinoya yells excitedly at your arrival.

“In time for what?”

"Coach is about to serve the newly steamed pork buns.”

"Ooh! Will there be curry buns?" You lift your eyebrows.

"Of course,” a familiar voice joins in. You turn to see Ennoshita grinning at you gently. “I reminded Coach to add some because they’re your favorite.”

"And Kageyama's always looking for it," Coach Ukai suddenly appears to your right, holding a large plate of steaming buns.

“That’s true,” You respond, moving out of the way. In the process, you bump into someone behind you.

“Ah, sorry- Oh my goodness, Suga-san!”

"Hi! Doing good?" He asks you, opening his arms for a hug that you quickly reciprocate.

"Yes!" You tell him excitedly. "I miss having you around. How's college treating you?"

"Hmm. Lots of general subjects for now, so it's like high school with lots more work." He pauses to think. "But, we'll go observe some elementary classes after break, so I'm looking forward to that."

"Aw, that's great! You'll be such a great teacher. You have experience wrangling the kids, anyway," you gesture to the gathered members.

Suga looks at them with a fond look on his face. Suddenly, he snickers, so you follow his gaze. Lo and behold, Kageyama is closely eyeing the curry buns, waiting for the others to start eating. But it seems that the others have noticed this too.

"Oi, Kageyama, we're here for Ennoshita-san's birthday. We're not just here to eat."

"Hinata! Dumbass! Of course I know that!"

Everyone laughs loudly at the exchange, minus Tsukishima, Kageyama, and the first-years who were failing to hold their giggles in. 

"Hah, just like old times." Suga catches his breath. "Ah, by the way…" he looks at you with a knowing smile before leaning in.

"Ennoshita really asked Coach to prepare extra pork curry buns for you. I’m pretty sure he made it clear that he’d kill anyone who takes them." He whispers in your ear.

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in a thin line to think, but then Suga starts wiggling his eyebrows.

"What do you want me to do with that information, Suga-san?"

"Nothing!" He says with a playful lilt in his voice. "Just dig in, I think that'll make him happy."

"Mm." You hum in response before moving forward to reach for a pork curry bun. With a bunch of huge, ravenous boys surrounding the table, this simple task gets complicated.

After a few attempts of trying to find an opening and failing miserably, you chuckle at your predicament. Is this what Yachi feels like at training camp barbeques?

But there’s a light tap on your shoulder, and you turn back to face Suga- oh.

“Here,” Ennoshita holds out a steamed pork curry bun to you.

“Thanks.” The bun warms your hands a little, but you’re sure the rest of your body is heating up for other reasons.

"You're welcome.” Ennoshita’s calm voice fills your ears, but it does nothing to steady your heart. 

Moments later, there's a sound of the door opening. Kinoshita and Narita make their way in, and they huddle around Ennoshita.

You take that as your cue to return to your spot next to Suga. You can sense that he's dying to ask a question, perhaps the one that you’ve been asking yourself for the past two weeks.

"Spit it out before your eyebrows fall off," you tell him before taking a bite of your bun. This makes him giggle, but he quickly composes himself.

"So, what did you end up getting him?" He says in a hushed tone.

You open the zipper on your sling bag and pull the present out a little bit, making sure no one else sees it.

Suga tilts his head.

"It's- well…I followed your advice to be sincere," you explain. There are a few moments of silence before he responds.

"Well, I won't question it. I trust you had a good reason for your choice. You're one of those people who knows exactly what's in their heart and mind."

"I hope you're right." You inhale deeply, zipping your bag closed.

"I think I usually am." He winks and grins at her. "Now, go be social! I'll go interview the freshmen." He nudges you towards the other members.

"Yes, mother." You roll your eyes playfully.

"Hmmm, you're filling in that role nicely now," he teases, before making his way over to the group of first years.

"Speaking of birthday gifts, let's give them to our dear captain!" Nishinoya declares.

"Ah! Already?" Ennoshita widens his eyes. You look outside to see the sky painted a deep orange.

"Yeah, Asahi-san's gotta leave soon," Nishinoya pouts. "He has one last weekend class and a big project, right?"

Asahi sighs and nods, but Ennoshita reassures him. "It's alright. There will be more chances to see each other again."

"Let's sing Ennoshita-san happy birthday!" Tanaka declares.

The store is immediately filled with a chorus of mismatched tones, which causes Ennoshita to put his head in his hands.

"Geez, no wonder we're called crows." Coach Ukai shakes his head as he starts clearing dirty plates and cups.

Laughter erupts, and as the others start setting their gifts on the table, you can’t help but feel nervous about yours.

You spent all night second-guessing yourself. You even left your morning open for a last-minute trip to the store, just in case. But thanks to the cold weather, you overslept. Now, all you can do is hope Ennoshita likes what you got him.

You believe it’s a meaningful gift, but compared to the neatly wrapped packages and fancy boxes, yours sticks out like a sore thumb.

Luckily, no one seems to notice that you haven’t placed anything on the table yet-

"You okay? You kind of spaced out there." Ennoshita’s voice is gentle, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. When did he get up from his seat?

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m good." You meet his concerned gaze.

"Glad to hear that." He glances at the growing pile of gifts. "Still can't believe there's this much." He starts counting, and your stomach twists in panic.

"I, uh... is it okay if I give you my gift later? I mean, you’ll need help carrying all of this home, right? I could give it to you then?"

His eyebrows lift at your sudden rambling. "Yeah, that's fine. Are you sure you're okay? You got kinda tongue-tied for a second there."

"Yes. Sorry, my thoughts just got a little disorganized."

He doesn’t press further, but as you say your goodbyes to the others, you can still feel his eyes on you—like he’s silently trying to figure you out.

One by one, the remaining members trickle out of the store.

"Okay, kids, go home before it gets too dark," Coach Ukai calls. 

He hands you and Ennoshita two spare boxes for the gifts. Tanaka, Nishinoya, Kinoshita, and Narita offer to help carry them until you reach the point where your paths diverge.

"See you guys soon!" you call out. Their goodbyes fade into the evening air, and soon enough, it's just you and Ennoshita.

"Good thing these aren’t too heavy," he comments. "You okay with yours?"

"Yup. Don't forget how many bags I carry as a manager," you joke.

"Ah. That’s fair." He chuckles, then hesitates. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Now that it's just us… I wanted to ask if something was bothering you earlier?"

"Oh, well..."

"Is it about my gift?" His voice is careful. "You seemed pretty nervous."

"Ah, I just... didn’t want the others to see what it was."

That definitely catches his interest.

"Oh?"

You hesitate before admitting, "I wasn’t able to wrap it."

He falls silent, and for a moment, all you hear is the crunch of snow beneath your boots.

"Well, whatever it is, I’ll appreciate it," he says at last.

"I figured you’d say that. You’re the kind of person who believes it’s the thought that counts." "You're not wrong," he chuckles.

At this point, you pass your house, meaning his is only a few blocks away.

"Hah. But even then, I really wanted to make it special somehow."

"Special?"

"Yeah. I couldn't decide what to get you. I wracked my brain over it."

"I see. Gosh, is my overthinking that contagious?"

You both break into a fit of giggles as you round the final corner to his house.

"But seriously," Ennoshita says, pushing open his front gate and making space for you to set your box down. "I’d appreciate anything from you."

As he puts his box down next to yours, you take his gift out of your sling bag and hide it behind your back.

His smile softens. "Is that what I think it is? C’mon, don’t hide it anymore."

He holds his hands out in front, and with a quick exhale, you hand it to him. 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he recognizes the Campus notebook design.

"Wait, isn't this your volleyball notebook?"

"Well, it was," you admit, laughing nervously. "Not anymore. You'll see what I mean."

You watch his reaction as he reads through the first few pages. It's mostly set numbers and score tallies, even some success percentages of the freak quick duo's new moves. 

There are some rotation notes too, but after that, the content changes entirely. You know when Ennoshita realizes it, because a small gasp escapes his mouth.

If there's one thing you know Ennoshita struggles with as captain, it's the constant doubt that makes him think he isn't enough.

You think back to Karasuno’s match against Wakutani Minami last year, when Ennoshita stepped in to replace Daichi. That was the first time you truly saw him—not just as a player, but as a leader.

After the match, you had asked Narita and Kinoshita where he was so you could congratulate him. That’s how you found yourself waiting outside the bathroom.

His red-rimmed eyes were immediately burned into your memory, and you didn’t think twice before engulfing him in an embrace. At the time, you didn’t understand why he trembled so much, but you didn’t pester him until he was ready to talk.

After accepting his position as the new captain, he seemed to be doing a little better, but you knew another breakdown was inevitable. “Not as good as Daichi” is what he told you after Karasuno lost to Date Tech in the Interhigh finals a few months ago.

Everyone has reminded him, again and again, that he isn’t meant to be a carbon copy of the former captain. Karasuno hasn’t even had a practice match with Date Tech in a long while; the Iron Wall has immensely improved their blocking capabilities in just a few months.

Still, Ennoshita carries the weight of those losses. He pushes forward, keeping the team’s motivation high, but you know that the dark thoughts linger in his mind, preying on him in moments of vulnerability.

So, you came up with an idea, a way to provide proof that Ennoshita is worthy and capable.

That’s exactly what you’ve given him today.

"You..." Ennoshita's voice shakes. "How- when did you-" 

He flips through the pages, back and forth, almost like he can't believe his eyes.

"Today, Ennoshita executed a great dig that helped his team win the set." He reads out loud. 

“Today, Ennoshita offered to help me even if he was clearly carrying more than I did. I’m thankful for his willingness to help others.

“Today, Ennoshita boosted team morale with a simple but sincere speech. His words mean more than he knows.

“Today, Ennoshita saved me from another stray volleyball. I cannot believe this keeps happening to me, but thank goodness he’s always there to protect me.

“Today, Ennoshita did his best to comfort the team after losing to Date Tech. He blames himself for the loss, but I hope he knows that the team truly doesn't believe it's his fault. I wish he could be kinder to himself.

“Today, the second-years told me that Ennoshita was a reliable captain. I agreed with them.”

“Today, Ennoshita…” He trails off, continuing to read the rest in silence. 

Gradually, you hear shaky breaths escape him as he gets closer to the end.

“Oh, what the-” You hear him getting a little choked up as he mutters softly. There are a few more seconds before he closes the notebook and stares at you in sheer disbelief. 

“What on Earth made you think I wouldn’t like this? You- no one's ever, I-" His hands fly to his face and his shoulders shake. “Sorry-”

“Don’t apologize.” You embrace him again; it feels almost natural how well you fit together. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I like it,” he mumbles into your shoulder, voice thick with emotion. “I like you.”

It takes you a few moments before you register his confession.

You watch the small bits of snow falling around you before gathering the courage to tell him what’s on your mind.

“I like you too, Ennoshita.” You respond, lightly stroking his hair, tears starting to form in your eyes as well.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you can breathe. The words that have been caged inside your chest, restrained by fear and hesitation, have finally broken free.

You wonder why it took you this long in the first place. 

After that night, everything changes.

You no longer wait for birthdays to tell Ennoshita beautiful things. You tell him whenever you feel it—what you think, what you love about him, the little things that make you smile.

Sometimes, he scoffs, playfully embarrassed, but you notice the way his ears turn pink. Other times, he just shakes his head with a small, grateful smile.

And when you aren’t there to say it yourself, you find other ways. Sticky notes on his notebooks. Text messages sent before bed. Handwritten letters slipped into his bag, waiting to be found.

You never stop reminding him—because you know how easy it is for doubt to creep back in, how the weight of expectations can make even the strongest person feel small.

One way or another, you always find a way to get your heartfelt words across. That’s your love language, after all.

masterlist

[endochika]

Vol18 sketches