"How they react when they get called by their full Name" // Tokyo Revengers
Charakters: Mikey, Sanzu, Kokonoi, Mitsuya, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Ran, Rindou, Izana
Synopsis: There’s one thing every Tokyo Rev boy knows: when you drop their full name — first and last — they’ve seriously screwed up. It could be a forgotten date, a stolen dessert, a jealous outburst, or just plain stupidity, but once that name leaves your lips? Oh, they feel it.
CW: Light cursing, jealousy/possessiveness, mild violence (slaps, fights), flirty teasing,emotional tension
The sun was beginning to dip behind the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the Musashi Shrine. The old Toman gang had gathered there, much like they always did, lounging on the steps and chatting about their plans for the next big move. Mikey stood at the forefront, his jacket casually draped over his shoulders as he began to talk about the upcoming fight with another gang. Draken, always close behind him, kept an eye on the rest of the group, ensuring no one got too rowdy.
Suddenly, his gaze shifted as he noticed movement near the shrine stairs. At first, he couldn’t make out who it was — the person was still too far away. But when a loud, clear “MANJIRO SANO” echoed across the quiet shrine, he knew exactly who it was.
Heads turned in unison, eyes wide as they realized it was none other than Mikey’s girlfriend — and she was not happy.
Draken’s eyes flicked to Mikey, who had stopped mid-sentence, his smirk fading into something more cautious. You walked through the crowd of Toman members, your steps deliberate and filled with an icy determination. The guys instinctively parted to make room, stepping aside like a wave in front of you.
“Mikey, what the hell...” Mitsuya, one of the vice-captains, started to speak, but the instant your angry glare landed on him, he went silent. His words died in his throat, and he wisely shut up, not wanting to get between you and whatever had set you off.
Everyone knew who Mikey’s “wife” was — that teasing nickname for you when you and Mikey went official. And normally, you were the sweetest girl anyone could meet. The kind of girl they'd run into on a late-night walk down the city, smiling and saying hello to everyone. But the guys also knew that when you were angry, nobody wanted to be near you. You didn’t need to use your fists to make your point. Your words were sharp enough to cut through anything.
And in that moment, every single one of them could tell that Mikey had messed up big time. Especially when you called him by his full name.
You reached the stairs where Mikey stood, the air around you heavy with the tension that had suddenly gripped the whole shrine. You didn’t shout — you didn’t need to. Your cold gaze alone sent a wave of fear through him. With barely a whisper, you spoke. “Where is my dorayaki that was on my counter this morning?”
The moment you asked, Mikey’s face paled slightly, and his usual confident demeanor cracked, just enough for Draken to notice the shift. He watched as Mikey's eyes darted around, his lips twitching, unsure of how to respond.
“Baby… I don’t… know what you’re talking about,” Mikey said, his voice a little shakier than usual — nothing loud enough for the others to catch, but Draken saw it. Mikey was genuinely scared.
Your gaze never wavered. Your face remained hard, and you took a step closer, your eyes locked on his. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
The silence in the air was thick, and even the usual chatter between the Toman members had died down, everyone sensing that this was no ordinary disagreement. Mikey swallowed hard, his confident smirk gone. “Baby…”
The way you stood there — unmoving, your voice cold, your anger barely contained — made Mikey’s insides twist. The entire shrine had become a pressure cooker, and it felt like you were the only one in control.
He hesitated, then took a step closer, moving down a single stair. His eyes never left yours, but you stood firm, arms crossed tightly in front of your chest. “I’m sorry, baby,” Mikey said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t know those were yours.” He took another step toward you, trying to ease the tension, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a hint of concern.
Without warning, you lunged forward, grabbing his ear in a swift motion. “How dare you eat my sweets?” you hissed, your grip firm enough to make him wince. “I’d been looking forward to that all day, Manjiro.”
His face contorted in pain, but it was the way you were looking at him — that cold, steely gaze — that made him feel the full force of your anger. He knew he’d messed up, and now he was paying the price.
“I’m sorry, princess,” Mikey groaned, wincing under your tight grip. “I swear, they were making fun of me, telling me I should eat them. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. I’ll never do it again.”
But you weren’t having any of it. The pain in his ear intensified as you squeezed harder. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.”
Finally, with a final, sharp tug, you let go of his ear. It was red, and Mikey winced as he rubbed it, his eyes still apologetic. But before you could even begin to walk away, Mikey quickly grabbed your wrist, holding you in place.
You shot him a glare, making it clear with a look that he needed to think very carefully about what he was doing next. “Let go of me,” you muttered, your voice low but threatening.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Mikey murmured, his voice softening as he pulled you closer, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.
You closed your eyes at the sensation, your body relaxing just a little bit as your frustration started to melt away. A heavy sigh left your lips as you opened your eyes, staring at him again. “You better make it up to me, or you can sleep on the couch tonight.”
“Ouch,” Draken heard Chifuyu mutter under his breath, a small laugh following. The tension in the air had slightly lifted, but it was clear Mikey wasn’t off the hook yet.
“I won’t do it again,” Mikey promised, his voice soft and sincere. His grip on your wrist loosened as his hand moved gently to your face. “But please… don’t call me by my first name again. I’m sorry, baby.”
Before you could say anything, Mikey leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips. It was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the anger that had flared moments ago. You kissed him back, your hand moving to the side of his face, your thumb gently caressing his cheek.
“If you ever do this again,” you warned, pulling back slightly but keeping your hand on his face, “I will be your worst nightmare.”
Mikey smirked, his usual cocky confidence returning — just a little bit — as he leaned down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was brief but meaningful, and when you pulled away, you dropped onto the last step of the shrine, sitting down with a sigh.
Mikey removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders with a small, playful smile. “Alright, I’m gonna finish the meeting now. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
With that, Mikey turned back to the group, his usual carefree attitude settling back into place, but he kept a soft smile on his face, knowing he’d narrowly escaped a much worse fate.
___________________________________________________________________________
The Bonten boardroom was thick with tension — dark suits, whispered strategies, and Mikey’s dead-eyed stare at the head of the table.
Sanzu leaned back in his seat, legs kicked up on the polished wood, twirling a butterfly knife in his fingers like the meeting was background noise. Casual, cocky — typical.
That is, until the doors slammed open with a force that made Koko flinch and Rindou instinctively reach for his gun.
Hair wind-blown, heels echoing like gunshots, expression locked in one single mood: rage.
You didn’t even glance at the others — your eyes zeroed in on one person only.
His knife stilled mid-spin.
He blinked. Tilted his head.
“Ohhh?” he drawled, an unstable grin curling onto his lips. “Full name… in front of my coworkers? What’d I do this time, doll?”
You marched right up to him and — crack.
The slap rang out, sharp and echoing. The room went dead silent. Even Mikey raised an eyebrow.
Sanzu didn’t move. Just slowly turned his head back toward you, a red mark blooming on his cheek — and a completely unhinged smile spreading across his face.
“Oh, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”
“Don’t you dare,” you growled, eyes blazing. “You forgot. You forgot our anniversary, Haruchiyo. You left me sitting alone at a reservation you made, looking like an idiot. You’ve done a lot of reckless shit, but this—this is what I don’t forgive.”
Sanzu opened his mouth to joke again, but one look at your face — how your voice wavered just slightly at the end — and something actually clicked.
He stood slowly, grin slipping into something more serious. His usual cockiness twisted with confusion and guilt.
“I—shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t forget, I just—no. No, I did forget.”
You scoffed, turned on your heel.
“I’m done. Don’t worry — you’ll have time to spin your knife and play gangster without having to think about me ever again.”
You were almost to the door when Mikey spoke — quietly, but with weight.
“If you don’t fix this in the next ten minutes, don’t come back to the table.”
Everyone else stayed silent. They knew what that meant.
Sanzu blinked at his boss, then at you. He dragged a hand down his face. Then he was moving — fast.
You didn’t make it to the elevator.
A hand caught your wrist, not rough but firm.
“Wait,” he said, and for once, his voice wasn’t teasing. It was low. Serious. “I messed up. I know I did. You wanna break my nose next? Fine. You want a real apology? Give me tonight. Just tonight. I’ll fix it.”
“But you haven’t,” he said softly, tugging you closer, his other hand cradling the side of your face — right where your anger had turned his cheek red. “Which means I’ve still got a chance.”
“Let me take you somewhere. Right now. Fuck the meeting. Mikey already said I’m screwed either way.”
You bit your lip. Still furious. Still hurt.
But his eyes — sharp, wild, pleading — were locked on yours like nothing else in the world mattered.
“…One chance,” you muttered.
And with that, he dragged you out by the hand — past a stunned Bonten, past Mikey’s amused smirk — ready to blow more money than sense fixing the night he should’ve never forgotten.
___________________________________________________________________________
Your afternoon was peaceful — warm tea, a half-read book, and your favorite playlist humming in the background.
One alert. Then two. Then three.
“Transaction approved: ¥1,850,000 – Interior Luxury Aquatics.”
“Your Bonten BlackCard was used at ‘KoiWorld Tokyo’.”
“Estimated delivery scheduled for this evening.”
You stared at your phone, blinking slowly like it might explain itself.
Instead, it showed a picture of a koi pond with custom underwater lighting, soundproof filtration, and a caption that read:
“Perfect centerpiece for a modern bathroom space.”
You stood up so fast your tea nearly spilled.
And you marched straight into the living room, already yelling.
He was lounging like royalty — silk pajama pants, socks mismatched (as always), hair perfectly in place even though he’d clearly done nothing all day. The TV was on but muted, and he was scrolling through his tablet like a man deep in international finance — or TikTok, it was hard to tell with him.
At the sound of his full name, he froze.
Then looked up, slow and cautious. “...Was it something I bought? Or something I said while half-asleep? Be honest. I need context before I defend myself.”
You held up your phone like a prosecutor presenting evidence. “A koi pond, Hajime?”
He tilted his head. “Ah. The koi pond.”
“No. Not yet. But imagine the possibilities.”
You gave him a look that could set fire to expensive wallpaper. “In the guest bathroom?”
“Listen, listen, I thought it through. It’s the smallest bathroom, right? So guests don’t spend too long in there scrolling through TikTok. But if you give them a calming aquatic feature to look at while they—”
“—you’re describing bathroom fish therapy right now.”
“Exactly! You get it!” He beamed like he’d invented sliced bread. “It’s innovation, babe.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We agreed — no more extravagant impulse buys without telling each other. You promised after the rotating crystal gin shelf.”
“But that one was sick. Admit it.”
“It plays Beyoncé when it opens.”
“Luxury,” he said, dead serious.
You paced the room, already imagining poor houseguests slipping on wet tiles while koi fish stared them down in judgment. “This isn’t about fish, Hajime. This is about you not listening. Again. You can’t fix a boring bathroom by throwing seven fish in it and hoping for ambiance.”
He rose from the couch, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I hear you. Maybe it was a little… extra.”
“They gave me a discount if I named one of the koi after myself.”
You stared. “You’re putting a fish in a bathroom and naming it Hajime?”
“Well, I was... but I’ll rename him if it’ll help my case. What about... ‘I’m sorry’?”
You were trying so hard not to laugh, and he knew it. He stepped closer, slipping his arms around your waist as your resolve crumbled slightly.
“Babe,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against your temple, “I’ll cancel the installation if it really bothers you. Or I’ll move it to the terrace. Or build the koi a private spa in the guest bedroom. Whatever you want.”
“But I’m cute,” he added with a wink.
You sighed. “If I ever see you spending seven figures on fish again, I’m calling you Hajime in front of Mikey. In front of everyone.”
He gasped. “That’s cold.”
“Even colder than koi water.”
“Okay, now that was hot. Use that in bed later.”
You smacked his arm, but you were laughing now. And he was grinning like a man who knew exactly how to get away with murder (and koi ponds).
___________________________________________________________________________
It was a quiet evening in the Mitsuya household. The living room was glowing warm with fairy lights, soft music hummed from the record player, and the faint scent of freshly brewed tea drifted from the kitchen.
You were sitting on the couch, waiting.
The lasagna you had lovingly made was slowly getting cold, the table set with care — candles, folded napkins, even that dumb little place card he always laughed about that said “Takashi ”.
Not just ten-minutes-late.
We’re talking an hour and twenty-seven minutes late, and he hadn’t even texted.
You were just about to wrap the food up in cling wrap out of pure spite when the front door clicked open.
You didn’t even look up when you heard the soft, familiar thud of his boots being kicked off.
The way you said it — calm, measured, yet dangerously poised — made him freeze in the doorway, jacket half-off one arm.
He blinked. “...Oh. Wow. The full name.”
You finally turned around.
He looked guilty as hell.
“I…” He cleared his throat. “Forgot?”
Mitsuya walked slowly into the room, holding up both hands like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. “Okay, in my defense—”
“You promised,” you said, voice soft but stern. “You literally promised you'd be home on time. And I didn’t even burn the lasagna this time.”
He winced. “I know. I know. Toman meeting ran late, then I got caught up helping Hakkai fix a shirt for his date, and then I couldn’t find my phone in all the fabric and—yeah, okay, I’m gonna stop talking.”
You stared for a moment longer before turning away, muttering, “It’s fine. I should’ve expected it. You’re the one who’s always taking care of everyone.”
There was a beat of silence.
“...Is this the part where you scold me more? Or kiss me?”
You blinked, turning slowly.
Mitsuya was grinning now — boyish and warm, clearly testing the waters, but sincere under it all. “Because you only ever call me Takashi Mitsuya when it’s one of those.”
You tried not to smile. Tried.
“Depends. Do you think you deserve a kiss right now?”
He walked right up to you, slipping his arms around your waist and leaning his forehead against yours.
“I deserve a chance to earn one,” he said softly.
You exhaled a little laugh, eyes half-lidded. “You always say the right thing.”
“I sew for a living, baby. I know how to thread things carefully.”
You did. So much it hurt sometimes.
You leaned up and kissed him — just once — before whispering near his ear, “You’re heating up that lasagna yourself.”
He groaned dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “You really know how to punish a man.”
“You forgot our dinner date. I’m letting you off easy.”
“I know. And I’m grateful.” He paused, pulling back with a soft smile. “But don’t stop calling me by my full name. It sounds really hot when you’re mad.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away — but not before tossing back a teasing, “Takashi Mitsuya, you’re impossible.”
His grin was full of love.
And this time, he didn't miss dinner.
__________________________________________________________________________
You had left the apartment for thirty minutes.
Enough time to grab your package from the post office, pick up snacks, and come back to what was supposed to be a chill movie night.
What you came back to instead... was chaos.
There was flour. Everywhere.
The cat — who looked like it had fought in the Great Pastry War — bolted past you with a string of dough wrapped around its leg. The TV was paused on a baking tutorial. The counters were stacked with bowls, some with batter, one suspiciously empty, and—
A loud bang echoed from the kitchen.
You stormed in, and there he was: wide-eyed, mid-mixer, flour smudged on his cheek, apron crooked, and a cake that had clearly imploded in the oven behind him.
“Don’t you ‘okay, so’ me.”
“I left you alone for half an hour. I asked you to boil pasta. Not—what is this? A Great British Bake-Off rejection arc?”
He pointed to the collapsed cake like it betrayed him personally. “That was supposed to be a surprise! I was trying to make that caramel lava thing you said looked good—”
“By summoning Satan into the batter?”
He scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “...It did make a weird noise.”
You stared, exasperated beyond words. “And the cat?”
“Okay, the cat part wasn’t me. Technically. I dropped the cream. She jumped in.”
“Chifuyu, she looks like a haunted marshmallow.”
He stepped forward, laughing nervously, reaching out to brush flour off your jacket like that would somehow make up for it. “But babe... I did it for you.”
“You did arson in my kitchen for me?”
“Not arson! It’s creative expression!”
“You lit an oven mitt on fire!”
“Small fire. Controlled. Kinda.” His eyes sparkled with that grin that made you weak in the knees and homicidal at the same time. “But I mean... you’re not that mad, right?”
He smirked. “Because you called me Chifuyu Matsuno. Which you only do when you’re two seconds from either throwing me out the window or kissing me.”
“Guess which one I’m leaning toward.”
He leaned in, pressing a quick floury kiss to your cheek. “Kiss, obviously. You can’t resist me when I’m covered in catastrophe.”
You sighed, letting your forehead rest against his. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I know. Now help me clean this up and I’ll order your favorite ramen. Double miso, no mushrooms.”
“Fine. But you’re on cat-cleanup duty.”
Chifuyu looked over at the flour-coated feline, now trying to eat a whisk.
___________________________________________________________________________
You hadn’t meant to yell.
You hadn’t even meant to cry.
But when Kazutora walked in that night — shoulders slumped, knuckles red, hoodie pulled low to hide the bruising on his jaw — something inside you snapped.
He hadn’t answered your calls. Not one.
And then he just showed up, like he hadn’t disappeared again. Like he didn’t know what that kind of silence did to someone who loved him.
You stood there in the dim light of the apartment, arms crossed tightly, trying to hold yourself together as the door clicked shut behind him.
The sound of his full name — sharp, deliberate, and full of everything you were holding back — cut through the room like a knife.
He didn’t look up at first. Didn’t meet your eyes.
“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. I thought—” You swallowed hard. “I thought something happened.”
He dropped his bag wordlessly by the door.
“I told you,” you said, quieter now, voice thick, “I told you the last time — I can’t go through that kind of fear again. Not from you. Not when I—”
And god, his eyes were tired.
Not physically — but in that way Kazutora always got when his mind spiraled too fast for him to grab onto anything stable. That distant, fragile expression that said I don't know how to stay, even when I want to.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he murmured. “I lost control again. And I just... I didn’t want to ruin the one good thing I have.”
You blinked away tears. “So your solution was to disappear? Do you know what that does to me?”
He took a shaky step forward, hands half-raised like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.
“I’m not used to someone worrying about me,” he said, broken-soft. “Not like you do.”
You finally let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in your chest for hours. “Then get used to it, Kazutora. Because I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to stop running like I’m going to disappear the second you mess up.”
He stared at you like you were the only solid thing in a world that always shifted beneath his feet.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just... I get scared.”
You stepped toward him, gently placing your hand on his bruised cheek. “So do I. Every time you shut down like this.”
“I’ll try,” he breathed. “For you.”
You nodded, eyes softening. “And stop flinching when I say your full name. I only do it when I need you to listen.”
“I hear you,” he said, eyes closing as he leaned into your palm. “I hear you now.”
And in that quiet room, he finally let himself fall — not into chaos, not into guilt — but into you.
And for once, he didn’t run.
_________________________________________________________________________
The night had started out like any other, with Ran’s usual charm and swagger as he wrapped you in his arms and promised to make it home on time. He even kissed you goodbye with that mischievous grin that made your heart race.
But now, here you were — standing alone in the dimly lit apartment, the cool silence pressing down on you as the hours ticked by.
Your patience had worn thin.
You had trusted him, even though you knew how unpredictable things could get when his brother, Rindou, was involved. You trusted that he would be there when he said he would.
But as the clock struck midnight, that familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach — the feeling that Ran wasn’t coming home.
You were done being patient. Done waiting for a man who promised the world and never quite delivered. And so, with a heavy sigh, you grabbed your coat and stormed out the door.
You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you needed answers.
When you arrived at the underground club, where you knew Ran usually wound up after a Toman meeting, the last thing you expected to see was him sitting in a corner booth — alone. His head was tilted back, staring up at the ceiling as if the world didn’t matter.
Your heart skipped a beat, and every step toward him felt like a weight you couldn’t shake.
You were angry. You were hurt. But mostly, you were tired.
As soon as you reached the booth, Ran’s eyes flicked toward you, and for a brief moment, you could see the shock on his face. His perfect smile faltered.
“Y/N?” His voice was low, and there was something about the way he said your name — like it was the first time he was seeing you in forever. But you didn’t want to hear his soft tone anymore.
“Ran Haitani,” you said, your voice cutting through the thick air like a blade. The use of his full name — not the teasing “Ran” or the quiet “baby” you usually called him — hit him harder than any punch.
His brows furrowed, and he stood up slowly. “Babe... what’s wrong?”
You glared at him, taking a step closer, voice shaking with both fury and raw emotion. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Ran? You’re what’s wrong.”
He recoiled slightly, as if the force of your words physically struck him.
“I don’t know why I keep letting you hurt me,” you continued, your voice rising in volume. “You make promises, and then you break them. You show up late, and when you finally do, you expect me to just forget that you were never here. You expect me to wait around like everything is fine.”
Ran’s eyes softened, and he reached out to you, but you pulled back before he could touch you. His hand froze in mid-air, a silent apology hanging between you.
You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a near-whisper, but there was still so much fire in it. “You think you’re the only one with a past full of mistakes, don’t you? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be scared of falling — to be scared that I’m not enough, or that you’ll just leave like everyone else?”
He closed the space between you, finally taking your hands in his with an urgency that made your heart skip. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you. But I do.”
His confession was raw, too much to take in at once, and for a moment, you couldn’t even breathe.
“I try. I really do. But when I get caught up in all the shit — with Rindou, with Toman... with everything I’ve built around myself — I forget what matters most. You. You matter the most.”
You didn’t know if you should believe him. You didn’t know if you could let him back in without getting hurt again.
“Don’t shut me out, Y/N,” Ran whispered, voice hoarse, hands tightening around yours. “Not again. I can’t lose you.”
The tension in the room thickened, but then Ran did something you didn’t expect. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His breath was warm against your neck, his heart pounding against your chest.
“Please... don’t leave me.” His voice cracked, and you felt it deep in your soul.
You didn’t push him away. You didn’t pull back.
Because despite everything, you didn’t want to lose him either.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound between you the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, his arms keeping you close as if you might slip away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.
And then, with his forehead resting against yours, he murmured softly, “I know I messed up. But I swear, Y/N, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m yours.”
You closed your eyes, exhaling the breath you’d been holding. “You better. Because I won’t be here forever if you keep doing this to me.”
Ran’s lips gently pressed to your forehead, his voice full of sincerity. “I know. And I won’t give you a reason to walk away again. I’ll make it right, I promise.”
And in that moment, with all the weight of his past and yours hanging in the air, you allowed yourself to believe him.
___________________________________________________________________________
It was supposed to be a calm, easy evening. You and Rindou had been planning a low-key night, just the two of you. No Bonten meetings. No wild distractions. Just takeout and a movie.
But as usual, things never went according to plan when Rindou was involved.
The door slammed open. There he was — looking like a mess.
You had barely taken a bite of your food before your phone buzzed with an unknown number.
“Where are you?” it read. “Don't wait up for me.”
You hadn’t seen him for hours, and now he was texting you this?
By the time he came back home, you were already on edge. You had done your best to keep cool, but when Rindou walked in with a smug grin on his face, late as usual, you had had enough.
You didn’t even look up from the couch. You were too busy staring at your phone, pretending you weren’t fuming.
“What, no welcome home kiss?” Rindou teased, swaggering into the living room. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and cracked his neck. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
And that was when it happened.
The words came out sharper than you intended, and you instantly saw the flicker of shock in his eyes. He froze, his playful smirk faltering as he processed your tone.
He blinked. “Full name now? Damn, I really messed up this time, huh?”
You stood up, your body trembling with barely contained anger. “You disappear for hours, and when you finally show up, you think you can just—” You threw your hands up in the air. “You think you can just act like it’s nothing? Like I’m just supposed to keep waiting around while you do whatever the hell you want?”
Rindou chuckled nervously, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze now. “Hey, come on, don’t be like that. I was busy, okay? Things came up.”
“Busy?” You scoffed, taking a step closer to him. “You’re always busy, Rindou. With meetings, with Bonten, with whatever the hell else you’re involved in! You never have time for me anymore.”
The grin on his face faltered for a second, but it was quickly replaced by an almost defiant look. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to treat me like I’m nothing when I’ve been nothing but patient with you. I’m tired of being the afterthought, Rindou.”
And that was when it clicked for him. The words you had said, the weight in your voice — it was real.
But instead of apologizing, instead of stepping back, Rindou did something that took you completely off guard.
He reached out and yanked you toward him, pinning you against his chest. The surprise left your lips, but you didn’t have time to react before he kissed you.
It was a kiss full of desperation — lips crashing into yours as if he was trying to prove something. His hands were urgent, tugging at your shirt like he couldn’t quite get close enough.
You pushed against his chest, trying to break free, but the more you struggled, the tighter he held you. “Rindou, get off me—”
“No,” he muttered, his voice low, his grip on your waist firm. “I’m not letting you go this time.”
And it hit you like a wave. He wasn’t doing this out of arrogance — he was doing it because he didn’t know any other way to fix things.
Finally, you stopped fighting. The anger drained from your body, replaced with something softer — but still, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.
You pulled away slightly, breathless. “You can’t keep doing this, Rindou. You can’t just waltz in here and think everything’s fine.”
He rested his forehead against yours, his fingers lightly brushing through your hair. “I know. I know. I’m an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.”
You raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just a ‘sorry’? After everything?”
He smirked. “Well, it’s a start.”
A small laugh escaped you despite yourself. “You really are something else.”
But before you could fully process the situation, he had you pinned again, this time with a playful grin.
“You really know how to make a guy work for it,” Rindou teased, his voice now back to its usual teasing tone.
You sighed, shaking your head, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” he leaned in, kissing your forehead lightly, “you’re still not getting rid of me.”
“Damn right,” you muttered, “But don’t think this is over. You’re going to have to earn back my trust.”
Rindou’s eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint, but underneath it, you could see the sincerity — for once, he wasn’t just playing games. He was all in, even if he was chaotic about it.
“Fine,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’ll make sure to do it in the most dramatic way possible.”
And despite everything — the mess, the chaos, the late nights — you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real between you two. Even if it was a little messy.
_________________________________________________________________________
You were fuming. It wasn't anything big, but it was the little things that piled up, and today, Izana had done one too many. He’d left his dirty clothes everywhere, again. His shoes were in the living room, and the smell of his cologne still lingered in the hallway like he thought he was some sort of royalty. You had tried to be patient, but something snapped when you saw his jacket just thrown over the back of the couch, taking up space where you wanted to sit.
"Izana Kurokawa!" you exclaimed, hands on your hips as you marched into the living room.
Izana was lounging on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing. He didn’t even glance up when you said his full name—just continued scrolling on his phone with his signature lazy grin.
You crossed your arms tighter, glaring at him. "Do you have to leave your stuff everywhere? How many times do I have to tell you?"
He finally looked up, unfazed. “Mmm… I think you’ve told me about three times already,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “But you know, I just can’t help it. I like to make myself comfortable.”
That was the moment it became clear to you that he was teasing you. Your irritation deepened. “Comfortable? I swear, you think everything should revolve around you!”
You could feel yourself getting worked up, but instead of saying anything else, you turned your back and started picking up his things, throwing them in his direction.
Izana sat up, suddenly intrigued. His eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you continue your mini-rampage. “You look cute when you're angry, you know that?”
That did it. You whirled around to face him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Izana Kurokawa, you better—”
But before you could finish, Izana was up in a flash, crossing the space between you in an instant. With a grin that could melt anyone's heart, he cupped your face gently, pulling you in for a kiss.
It was slow at first, a quiet moment that silenced your angry thoughts, his lips warm against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tension in your body melted away, and for a second, all you could feel was his touch.
You pulled away slightly, breathing a little heavier, and without thinking, you snapped, “You can’t just kiss your way out of everything, you know.”
Izana ignored you completely, smiling wider as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you back in for another kiss, this one deeper, making you forget the very reason you were mad in the first place.
When he pulled away, you were slightly breathless, your frustration evaporating into a faint smile despite yourself.
He leaned his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with that familiar playful glint. “I can and will kiss my way out of anything,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But hey, I’ll pick up my stuff, okay? No need to get so worked up over my shoes.”
You blinked at him, trying to hold onto your frustration, but it was like trying to keep sand in your hands. “Izana...”
He kissed you once more, interrupting your half-hearted protest. “Shh, it’s fine, babe. Don’t worry about it. I’ll even go get your favorite snack later, just to make up for it.”
You sighed, trying not to smile as you pushed against his chest, though there was no real strength behind it. “You really know how to get out of trouble, don’t you?”
Izana grinned and gave you another quick kiss on the lips, his hand resting on the small of your back. “What can I say? It’s a gift. Now… let’s go get those snacks I promised. You’ll forget all about my shoes.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. As much as you tried to stay annoyed, Izana had that effect on you. He knew how to turn even the most frustrating moments into something playful and lighthearted.
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