hananon

a bottle of iced coffee from the nearby vending machine sits in front of him, condensation beading on the plastic. taped to it is a pastel post-it note, the handwriting round, in pink glittery pen. when he looks up, he catches movement. three girls ducking behind a bookshelf a few aisles away. one—clearly, the culprit, from the slight peek of her cardigan he'd gotten before she'd hurried off—peeks around the corner, eyes wide, then immediately pretends not to be looking, coughing and launching into a conversation with her other two friends who were just as eagerly waiting for his response to the move.

suguru leans closer to the bottle.

'hi! i thought you were really cute and was hoping you’d like to get to know each other :)'

hearts dot the i's. a phone number follows.

he exhales through his nose, faintly amused. on most days, he would’ve handled this properly—walked over, returned the bottle, declined with a courteous smile. he believes in that sort of thing.

today, suguru's tired. perhaps he's antsy in anticipation. he can barely get his mind off you. and the chapter he’s reading is genuinely interesting.

he nudges the bottle a few inches away from him instead. that'd work well enough, right?

there’s whispering from behind the shelves, disappointment from the girl, reassurance from her friends, then retreating footsteps. once they’re gone, suguru stands, drops the unopened bottle into the trash, and returns to his book without another thought.

by 2:30, he’s packing up. he'd planned on staying longer, but he feels awkward now after that interaction. and can't shake the feeling that he's still being watched.

at the check out counter, he checks his watch, slides the borrowed book and his library card into his bag, and stands. he’s eager to leave now—more eager than he’d anticipated. the air feels stale. he wants to be outside. he wants to see you. he'd arrive to surprise you early. sit behind the register while you finish your shift. he'd done it before.

he makes it to the front gardens of the library before a voice stops him.

“e-excuse me.”

he turns.

it’s the girl from earlier. alone now, shoulders tight, courage clearly borrowed. he registers the effort immediately. it doesn’t soften his stance. he'd noticed her and her entourage sitting together by the front when he'd been checking his book out. dumbly, he didn't suspect they'd been waiting for him to leave.

“i have a girlfriend,” he says calmly, before she can speak.

“oh.” she says. then, after a beat, something sharp creeps in. “so… could it have been a yes if you didn’t?”

he blinks once.

what a strange question to ask a stranger, he thinks.

and even stranger to persist after you've been rejected twice now by said stranger.

“no,” he replies pleasantly. “i appreciate the gesture, but you didn’t actually try to express interest. you bought a drink and ran. i never heard your voice until now. you didn’t even give me the chance to decide if i was interested.”

she stammers, words tripping over each other. “i— i was nervous—”

“nervousness isn’t the issue,” he says gently. “entitlement is.”

her brows knit. “then... if that's how you feel, why didn’t you throw it away?”

he suppresses a laugh at the fact she's even suggesting he would've drank it. “i don’t like iced coffee,” he answers. “i waited out of courtesy until you left to throw it away because, until a moment ago, i had respect for you as a stranger.”

she stiffens, embarrassment flushing her cheeks. “you’re… really mean.”

he tilts his head. “i can live with that.”

she huffs, “i just thought—”

“you thought persistence might change the answer,” he finishes. “might i suggest next time taking no for an answer. it'll be much less humiliating for you.”

before she can respond, a familiar voice cuts in.

“hi!”

suguru turns instantly.

it’s 2:35. you’re standing there with a grin, still in your uniform, bag slung over your shoulder, eyes bright as you hug his arm tightly. relief softens his expression in a way it never would for anyone else.

he steps into you, his arm slipping around your waist, fingers lacing with yours. he kisses your knuckles, “you finished early? i was going to surprise you.”

you laugh. “i surprised you! i saw you through the window.” then you rummage in your bag. “wait, i got you something!”

you pull out a bottle of iced coffee.

the same one from before. down to the brand and the flavour.

his smile turns warm and adoring, “my favourite,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your skin.

you glance at the girl, head tilting slightly, smile sweet. “oh sorry! are you suguru’s friend?”

she clears her throat, mortified. “n-no. i was just— asking for directions.”

suguru chuckles softly. “oh, don’t worry. i’ll tell her all about it later. we’ll have a laugh.”

you blink, confused, but he presses a kiss to your temple.

“come,” he says. “let’s get ramen.”

your face lights up. “ouuh! yeah!”

𖦹 o. yuuta

picnic date w/ yuuta

it’s warm enough for short sleeves, and mosquito bites and sunscreen. you and yuuta always try to capitalise on the warmer months with as many outdoorsy dates as you can manage. you've claimed your usual spot at the far edge of the park, tucked beneath a cluster of trees where the noise thins out and people don't wander past.

a picnic blanket's spread out beneath the two of you. you sit beside him in that pretty sundress that has him blushing like a schoolboy, knees tucked under yourself, chewing thoughtfully on your sandwich, your head leaned into his shoulder. yuuta watches you over his own sandwich when he thinks you’re not looking, cheeks warm, heart doing that thing it always does around you.

then, faint at first, comes the music.

you both pause, watching the ice cream truck roll in down the far end of the park. you always get ice cream on your picnic dates, it's not the same without it. however, this time, the truck had come late. you both assumed it wasn't coming today and had filled up on the other foods you'd packed.

"aw man..." you pout slightly, looking up at him, "i'm not hungry... d'you still want one?"

he considers it, then shakes his head, also full himself, “we can… share?”

you smile, glad that you don't have to miss out on tradition after all, “yeah!"

the wave of children who had raced towards the truck as soon as it'd pulled in has died down now, thankfully. you stay behind to watch the blanket while he walks toward it, hands shoved into his pockets, rehearsing his order in his head like it’s an exam.

one cup. strawberry. two spoons. simple.

when he reaches the truck, the girl working it looks down at him and smiles brightly.

“hi!” she chirps. “what can i get you?”

“uh—hi,” yuuta says quickly. “just... one cup. strawberry. please.”

she raises an eyebrow. “just one?” she smiles sweetly, "here alone, handsome?"

he freezes. entire face goes pink, "n-no..! no, i'm sharing.."

“with who?” she asks lightly, already scooping.

“my— my girlfriend,” he blurts.

she hums, unconvinced. “oh? don’t see her.”

his stomach drops.

“s-she’s— she’s over there,” he gestures vaguely back toward the trees, immediately worried he’s pointed too broadly. “we’re on a picnic.”

the girl smiles wider. “aw. that’s cute.” she leans forward a bit. “you know, you don’t have to be taken to enjoy ice cream with someone.”

yuuta’s brain short-circuits.

“i— i do,” he says earnestly. “i mean— i am. taken. i’m very taken.”

she laughs. “you’re funny.”

“i’m not,” he says, voice cracking slightly.

“why nervous?” she asks, handing him the cup, fingers brushing his intentionally. “it’s just ice cream.”

he recoils like he’s been burned as soon as he feels her nails scrape his fingers. he holds the cup tightly, "d-don't touch me. please."

there’s a beat of silence.

she blinks. “wow.”

“... sorry if that was weird,” he rushes on. “i just... love her a lot and she’s really important to me, and i don’t wanna do anything that could make her sad, or—”

he stops, breathless, eyes wide.

the girl stares at him for a moment, then snorts. “okay. got it, boyfriend of the year.”

he flushes crimson. “i... i didn’t mean—”

“relax,” she says, waving him off. “she’s lucky.”

yuuta gulps, "can i... get another spoon?"

he scurries back toward you like he’s fleeing a crime scene, ice cream held with both hands like it's a bomb that could detonate at any given moment.

when he reaches the blanket, you're laying down, soaking up sun. he can't even focus on how good you look like that because he genuinely feels like a criminal with a conscience. he sits down a little too quickly.

“ouu, that looks good." you smile, sitting up, taking one of the spoons and having a bite. you pause, paper spoon halfway in your mouth when you see the guilt-stricken expression on his face, tilting your head, "you okay, baby?"

he nods. then shakes his head. then nods again. “yeah. yes. i think so.”

you giggle softly, “what happened?”

he hesitates, then blurts, “she thought i was alone and tried to flirt with me and i panicked and told her about you and how much i love you and then she touched my hand and i told her not to touch me and—"

you blink, taking a few seconds to process because he's talking so fast. then you laugh, "really? what a weirdo."

you take the another bite of ice cream, scooting closer to him. he leans in hesitantly, like he's unsure if he deserves to.

“i’m sorry,” he says, looking worried now, “i-i told her i had a girlfriend immediately, i promise!”

you grin, "what are you even apologising for? you didn't do anything wrong."

"i... uh..."

your heart squeezes. you press a kiss to his cheek. “this ice cream's really good, baby. try some.”

his ears turn red. he smiles anyway, shy and relieved, leaning into you.

𖦹 i. toge

sleepy toge curses your annoying friend

you're not sure why your friend, miyo, always insists hangouts should take place at yours and toge's place. especially when yoka has a pool that's be great for the warm weather today. and emi's place is twice as big as yours. and miyo herself has a new puppy who you're dying to meet.

you've got a small city apartment, a lookout you could barely even count as a balcony, and... and, most notably—a quiet, white-haired boyfriend who adores you with a gentleness that still surprises you sometimes.

of course, still, you’re happy to host. you're delighted whenever miyo and the rest of your group of girlfriends come over to hang out and gossip. even prepared a fancy charcuterie board for all of you to share. with a salami rose and fancy cheeses and grapes. then you'd rummaged the house for all the nail polish you own.

toge had come home from his mission an hour before the girls arrived, worn down and hoarse from using his cursed speech, exhaustion clinging to him like a second uniform. you’d slipped easily into caretaker mode. once he was out of the shower and dressed in soft clothes, you’d pressed a mug of warm lemon tea into his hands for his sore throat, tucked him into bed, and kissed his forehead.

we won’t be loud, you’d promised softly as he drifted into a well-deserved nap.

now the four of you are sprawled across the living room floor, nails half-done, snacks dwindling. your hands rest on a cushion in emi’s lap as she paints your nails a glossy cherry red, recounting a story about her work crush to everyone.

"no way!" yoka gasps, "he's totally into you. you should make a move!"

she sighs, "that's the thing. he's not my type, like at all. he's so quiet. and kinda mean." she pouts, clearly conflicted, "i like extroverted guys, y'know? like the golden retriever type."

"maybe he just needs a push? toge's kinda like that too." you suggest.

"if you don't want him, i'll take him. i love quiet guys." miyo grins, dipping the applicator back into the pot of sky blue for yoka's nails.

"you love taken guys." yoka rolls her eyes.

miyo gasps, defensive, "i don't!"

the four of you look up when the door down the hall creaks, and out steps a sleepy inumaki, hair a little ruffled and eyes droopy. he looks softest like this. it's rare to see him so unguarded.

you open your mouth to greet him, but miyo beats you to it. "hi, toge!" she chirps sweetly.

he doesn’t answer her, rubbing at one eye. you smile instead, tilting your head without thinking, the kind of smile you give only him. that pretty smile that you don't realise drives him insane, "did you sleep well?"

he nods, "salmon."

"wow, so she gets a response and i don't?" miyo pouts playfully.

"shut up, miyo." yoka whines, "you got it on my finger!" you giggle lightheartedly, not quite seeing the bite in miyo's words.

toge couldn't understand how you could be so clueless.

he comes over to you, where you're sat on the rung having your nails done, putting an absent hand on your head. his fingers thread through your hair.

"did we wake you up?" you ask with gentle concern. he shakes his head.

"really? y/n was being super loud, i was sure she would." miyo chuckles.

he stares at her blankly for a second. before looking back down at you "tuna mayo?"

"hm?" you look up at him, "oh, i put it in the fridge. are you hungry? i'll go heat it up for you." you offer, not wanting him to do so much after working so hard this morning.

he shakes his head, "okaka." he insists, pointing to your hands, where polish is still wet. you smile adoringly, because you know what he means. have fun. don't fuss over me.

"okay. there's more tea for you on the stove." you grin, watching him head for the kitchen.

it's only then when miyo shoots up from her spot, "oh, i'm thirsty. what do you have, y/n?"

you look up her with a slightly confused blink, because you'd offered everyone drinks no less than five minutes ago, still you shrug, "we have soda and juice! you can help yourself."

"thanks! you're the best." she smiles, before skipping off to join toge behind the closed kitchen door.

yoka shakes her head with a disapproving sigh, cleaning the sloppy job miyo had done on her nails with an acetone soaked q-tip, "you're too trusting, y/n."

emi nods in agreement.

you frown, "hey, is this about what you two were telling me last week? i told you guys, it's nothing! she wouldn't do that."

"right." they both murmur in unison.

toge takes the tupperware of food you'd cooked out of the microwave, looking over his shoulder when he sees miyo enter. she smiles at him, opening the fridge and looking for a drink.

he sighs softly in annoyance. this is his least favourite scenario. him trapped in the same room as her. yet he can't stop finding himself here. not when she always manages to find an excuse to be left alone with him. usually, he'd tolerate it. she's your friend after all, and you're completely clueless to it. but he's still half asleep and sore right now and in no mood.

"toge~" she smiles, standing up with a can of soda, "can you get me a cup?"

he stares at her blankly, before stepping out of the way with his food.

"... or i'll get it myself." she chuckles, reaching for the dish rack and picking up a clean cup. she peers into the sink with a chuckle, "aww, y/n didn't do the dishes, huh?"

there's five in there at most.

he rolls his eyes, turning around, about to leave. and then she speaks again.

"i couldn't imagine leaving my house like this. like, one thing out of place and i go insane, y'know?"

no. no he doesn't know.

his eyes flick back to the door, convinced she can't have more to say now. but just as he's about to get a step in—

"what's that? is that the food she cooked you?" she peers at the warm tupperware in his hands, then her face twists, "oh... that looks... lovely."

his eye twitches. you'd made his favourite. and you did a damn good job at it.

she bursts into loud, fake laughter, "kidding!~ jeez, you're so uptight. i'd never insult your precious girl like that..."

a moment of silence passes.

finally. she's done. he turns, heads for the door.

"but it kinda looks like—"

"be quiet." the words leave him before he can even stop them.

miyo chokes up, her eyes widening as she opens her mouth and nothing escapes but a hoarse squeak.

he can't even say he regrets it. he sighs softly in relief, before leaving her without another thought.

𖦹 f. toji

your married landlady shoots her shot

toji’s leaning against the kitchen counter when the knock comes.

you’d ducked out ten minutes ago for snacks, leaving him alone in your apartment with the windows open and your cat judging him from the couch.

he opens the door without thinking.

“uh… hi.”

the woman on the other side blinks once.

then her eyes drag. slowly. deliberately. from his face, to his chest, down his arms like she’s inspecting merchandise.

“well,” she says, voice dropping into something syrupy. “hello. is y/n home? i’m her landlady.”

“oh, nah,” toji shrugs, casual. “i’m her boyfriend. toji. she went out. should be back soon.”

“right. toji.” she smiles — pleased with that answer. “she mentioned there was a problem with the sink?”

“oh, yeah. over here.” he steps aside, already turning toward the kitchen. “it’s leaking pretty bad. tried fixing it but i couldn’t figure it out.”

she follows him in, heels clicking, standing just a little too close. her perfume’s invasively sharp.

she leans over the sink unnecessarily, blazer pulling tight. the first two buttons of her blouse have magically come undone within the last thirty seconds. she tilts her head at him with a sultry smirk “you know… i’m very hands-on with my tenants. if there’s anything else you need help with, i have many services—”

toji snorts.

he doesn’t even look at her when he says it.

“aren’t you embarrassed?”

the words land flat. amused. cutting through her pride.

she freezes.

"flirting with your tenant's boyfriend in her kitchen. sad."

slowly, she straightens, colour creeping up her neck as she fumbles with her blazer, tugging it closed like dignity might button itself back on.

“i’ll-i’ll send a plumber in a few days,” she mutters, already backing toward the door.

toji shrugs. “cool.”

the front door opens just then.

you step in with your arms full of grocery bags, kick the door shut with your foot, and smile brightly when you see her.

“oh, hi yurina!”

she stiffens, forcing a thin smile. “y/n, hi. i was just telling your… boyfriend here that i’ll have the leak fixed soon.”

“oh, yay! thanks so much,” you beam, setting the bags on the counter.

“yes. yes,” she nods quickly. “i-i’ll head out now. see you.”

“oh! i have—” you start, reaching for the paperwork she’d given you days ago, stuck to your fridge with a magnet, signed and ready for her.

the door shuts abruptly.

you blink, “…huh. she must’ve been in a rush.”

“yeah,” toji murmurs.

you hum, unpacking snacks. “she’s really nice though! she always brings me these really good peaches her husband grows—”

he glances at the fruit basket on the counter.

“husband, huh?”

you pause. “yeah! he’s a gardener. really sweet guy. and they have a daughter, she's six. why?”

toji smiles. slow. smug.

“oh, nothing,” he says. “just that his wife was offering me all her special services.”

your jaw drops. “seriously?!”

he nods, smirk deepening. “uh-huh. undid her top buttons and everything.”

“is that why she was in a rush?” you gasp, eyes flicking to the peaches — still plump. still perfect. “woah… in front of her husband’s peaches and everything?”

toji laughs, low and rough, sliding an arm around your waist, “people got no shame.” he says, leaning into your neck, "d'you get beer?"

you roll your eyes at him, pulling the bottle you'd bought him.

𖦹 k. choso

rockstar!cho's manager has something against you

the bass is still thrumming through the walls when you step into the back entrance, vip pass swinging from your wrist. the guard barely glances at it before nodding and opening the door.

“welcome back,” he says easily.

you smile. “thank you!”

the whole band crew knows you. you’re always there, front row at all the shows, cheering too loud, sitting in on rehearsals when you can. the band guys joke that you’re the real good luck charm. they always save you a seat. you're family. their first and biggest supporter.

they've just had their biggest gig, like, ever. some huge artist noticed them and invited them to open for them at this huge talent event that actually matters. they'd done absolutely amazing. you couldn't wait to tell him that.

you step further inside, the lights are dimmer here, champagne glasses clink, conversations buzzing with post-show adrenaline. you scan the crowd for choso.

“excuse me.”

you turn.

a woman in a blazer stands in front of you, clipboard tucked under her arm. the band's manager. one of them, at least. the one who always lingers a little too close. the one whose hand always seems to find his shoulder. whose smile only appears when he's around.

you've had your suspicions about her for awhile now. never voiced them. she's been around for quite some time now, and she was good at her job, and she had connections with people in the industry. they had needed all the help they could get from the people who were willing back then. you couldn't imagine taking that away from hem.

“this area is restricted,” she says coolly. “you’ll need to leave.”

you blink, confused. because this woman had most definitely seen you backstage with them various times. your relationship wasn't a secret.

“oh... i have a vip pass. i’m meeting choso.” you say unsurely, holding up your wrist. had there been a mistake? the security had let you in... and you'd been assured the pass was all you needed. you've never been kicked out like this before.

her eyes flick to your wrist, then back to your face. unimpressed. “this section is for artists and management only.”

confusion prickles at your skin. “but… i'm always allowed with the band..”

she smiles, thin. “tonight’s different. bigger event. more important guests.”

so she did recognise you. could it hurt to at least call you by name?

you hesitate, clutching the strap of your bag. “oh... i was told it was fine. could you maybe check with—”

“i’m busy,” she cuts in. “security can escort you out.”

your heart sinks. you'd been so excited to see him.

before you can say anything else, another presence fills the space behind her.

“why are you not letting her in?”

choso’s voice is low and calm. but there’s an edge to it that makes the woman stiffen instantly.

“o-oh, choso!” she turns around far too quickly, smile snapping into place. “i didn’t realise— i was just doing my job. she doesn’t seem to have the proper—”

“answer my question.”

the room feels quieter. even the music fades into background noise.

she swallows. “i... don’t recognise her. is she important?”

your eyes widen. important is an interesting choice of words, but choso is already stepping past her.

he stops beside you.

his shoulders relax the second he sees your face. his expression softens, concern flickering across it. “are you okay?”

you manage a small nod, a little embarrassed.

he tightens his jaw. choso is always respectful to the staff. he makes it a point to show them his gratitude. never blames them for mistakes, buys them food when they stay late, always thanks them publicly at the end of concerts for their hard work, never ever raises his voice or scolds them.

but this is just blatant. she isn't even trying to hide it. he turns back to her. “you didn't recognise her." he repeats slowly.

"no... i don't think we've met." she gives you a saccharine smile, "i'm sorry for the misunderstanding. are you cho's friend?"

"i'm... his girlfriend." you mumble.

the manager laughs, fake. “oh! i'm so sorry, i didn’t know." she hits choso's arm playfully, "cho, you should’ve told me she was—”

“you do know,” he stops her. his voice doesn’t rise. that makes it worse. “you’ve met her multiple times. she baked cookies for you and the rest of the staff last week. she's been supporting us longer than you've been managing.”

her smile falters.

“and even if you didn't recognise her,” he continues, “you know the vip pass is all she needs to be back here. so why weren't you letting her in?"

she shifts, defensive now. “i-i was just trying to do my job.”

choso's eyes narrow, "that's security's job. so what's yours?"

a few heads nearby turn. the band guys have gone quiet, watching with grins because they've all also been waiting for choso to snap at her.

“i didn’t mean—”

he cuts her off, “no. what's your job?”

"...m-manager." she looks down.

"right." he says evenly, "don't speak to her like that again. and don't call me cho."

he turns to you then, and that sweet choso smile immediately comes to his face, "c'mon, let's get a drink." he says, wrapping an arm around you and leading you past the barriers and into the event.

gorgeous dividers by @pixopix ! check them out here <33