bowlvers

★﹒ STRICTLY A NO-NSFW BLOG; PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARIZE/COPY ANY OF MY WORK!

[MASTERLIST IN PROGRESS]

ft. sanemi shinazugawa

authors note / hey guys… it’s only been like *checks notes* three months since i posted a fic (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i was feeling motivated so i hope you guys enjoy this little piece

sanemi’s manners were terrible.

well—unless he was speaking to the master.

outside of that, “thank you” seemed to be a phrase physically incapable of leaving his mouth, especially toward the poor kakushi he barked orders at all day. though, judging by the little grunts of acknowledgment he gave the women, he probably considered himself incredibly chivalrous.

he ate with his elbows on the table, leaned so far back in chairs they creaked in protest, and could string together curse words with the precision of someone mastering an art form.

and his posture?

absolutely awful.

more often than not, you’d find him slouched over at such a dramatic angle you could probably trace the curve of his spine onto paper and hand it to a mathematician to calculate the slope.

frankly, you were beginning to worry for the state of his back. watching him fight demons while resembling the curvature of a shrimp wasn’t exactly reassuring.

so, naturally, when sanemi granted you access into the heavily fortified fortress that was his heart, you made it your life’s mission to correct his terrible habits.

“sanemi!”

his head snapped toward the sound of your voice echoing through the courtyard. judging by your tone alone, he already knew he was about to get scolded, so he mentally prepared himself for it.

you walked up to him, sandals clicking against the stone as you stopped in front of the bench he was currently hunched over on like a dying old man.

“…what?” he growled.

your eyes narrowed immediately at the attitude. reaching out, you flicked his sweaty forehead.

he blinked hard, baring his teeth at you. “ow— the hell was that for?”

“what have i told you about your posture?” you questioned, one brow raising as you planted your hands on your hips.

“listen— i forgot, ‘kay?” he defended, the towel around his shoulders slipping slightly. “…you nag me about it so damn much, i’m surprised it slipped my mind at all,” he muttered under his breath.

your eyebrows furrowed.

smack!

he jerked forward slightly after you hit the back of his head.

“what was that?” you asked flatly.

“nothing,” he grumbled instantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “‘m sorry, woman.”

you gave him a look.

sanemi stared back for a few seconds before his expression slowly twisted into annoyance as realization dawned on him. with the heaviest sigh imaginable, he straightened his spine until his back actually touched the bench properly.

“i apologize sincerely to my dear wife whom i love sooo much,” he deadpanned.

“don’t push it.”

“this is abuse,” he muttered, returning back to his original position.

“sit up straight.”

he groaned loudly but obeyed anyway, glaring at the sky like it had personally betrayed him.

you smiled sweetly after, bending down to kiss his forehead, “thank you, baby.”

he only clicked his tongue in return.

ft. kokushibo, douma, akaza

authors note / i was watching greys anatomy while i wrote this

KOKUSHIBO

kokushibo values quality time above all else. to him, there is nothing more intimate than simply existing together. sharing space while you bathe, work, or move through the quiet mundanity of daily life. presence, uninterrupted and unhurried, is his deepest form of devotion.

his physical affection is subtle and reverent. in crowds, he guides you with a touch so light it’s almost imperceptible, a hand resting briefly at your lower back, more a suggestion than a hold, yet always grounding.

he prefers calling over texting. hearing your voice matters to him, just as his own, low, steady, almost trance-inducing, inevitably soothes you in return. silence between words is never uncomfortable; it’s part of the intimacy.

he is the most composed and meticulously organized man you will ever meet. nothing is ever misplaced. not his belongings, and certainly not yours. he treats your things with near-sacred care, as though they belong behind glass in a museum. in truth, he’s simply acutely aware of every surface where you absentmindedly leave your keys.

the apartment you share is immaculate to the point of being almost unsettling. he wakes before you, moving with practiced silence, preparing the drink he’s memorized as your favorite. it appears on your nightstand exactly five minutes before you like to wake.

when you’re sick or exhausted, his attentiveness becomes unwavering. he cooks, cleans, and keeps vigil beside you through the night without complaint, as if care is not an obligation but a quiet, unquestioned truth.

DOUMA

he thrives in places filled with people, energy, chaos. if that isn’t your kind of thing, all it takes is a small tug on his sleeve and he’ll immediately guide you somewhere quieter, where all of his attention can settle comfortably on you.

an avid emoji user, your notifications are often filled with his tests accompanied by embarrassingly stupid pet names, always paired with colorful emoticons.

before he decided to move in with you (which, admittedly, didn’t take long), his apartment was perpetually, infuriatingly cold whenever you visited. of course he noticed every time you shivered, he notices everything about you. sometimes, he’d deliberately lower the temperature even more, just for an excuse to pull you closer.

he wakes you in the middle of the night with strangely philosophical questions. it drives you insane, your irritation bubbling up fast, only to fade just as quickly when he presses an apologetic kiss or two to your nose or forehead.

he buys you random trinkets whenever he goes out. they carry no symbolic meaning, and he knows exactly what you like, but he insists trinkets are cuter. more often than not, they’re unreasonably expensive, and he pouts shamelessly when you scold him for spending so much of his own money.

overly friendly with strangers, which earns him more than a few looks. he finds your reactions endlessly entertaining, especially when you pretend not to be jealous while gripping his sleeve a little tighter.

he runs cold, always has. your hands are warmer than his, and he takes full advantage of that, lacing his fingers with yours just to steal your heat.

AKAZA

i didn’t mention employment before because it didn’t feel necessary, but it’s worth saying i firmly believe akaza would be an mma fighter or some kind of boxer.

he comes home bruised and sore. he’s good, great, actually—but sometimes he lets himself take a hit or two just so he can sit still while your pretty hands fuss over him.

he hates texting, truly despises it, but he tries because you like it. his messages are blunt, stripped down to the essentials: “eat.” “be safe.” “home.” “miss you.”

he tries to drag you to the gym with him. he insists it’s about spending time together, which is partially true, but he also loves showing off. demonstrating form, lifting heavier than necessary, glancing over to see if you’re watching.

he avoids social media entirely. if you bribe him well enough, he’ll let you make an account for him, but he never uses it himself. his bio is empty, his profile picture something you chose, and he only ever lets you post for him.

he’s incredibly protective without being overbearing. he walks on the street-side of the sidewalk automatically, positions himself just slightly in front of you in crowded places, always alert without making it obvious.

he sleeps lightly. any shift in your breathing, any restless movement, and he’s awake, a hand settling on you immediately, grounding both of you before he drifts back off.

ft. giyuu tomioka, sanemi shinazugawa, muichiro tokito, obanai iguro, muzan kibutsuji, akaza, douma

authors note / what a line up, as i’m writing this i can already tell i’m going to regret how many people are included in this (╥‸╥)

GIYUU TOMIOKA

he has long since deemed himself as unworthy of any praise or positive recognition. whenever you compliment him, he’ll look away, ears faintly red, and mutter something a little too self deprecating for your liking like, “i’m not that impressive.”

terrible at small talk. you noticed early on that pressuring him into speaking with you would leave him overwhelmed, so you mostly talk and he listens, which he so happens to be wonderful at.

he sometimes worries he’s “too quiet” for you. that one day you’ll want someone warmer, more expressive. when those thoughts creep in, he becomes distant. not cold, just afraid. your reassurance more often than not is able to anchor him back to you.

he’s surprisingly good at domestic tasks. cleaning, repairing things, preparing simple meals. he does them without complaint.

he prefers sitting across from you during meals, not beside, so he can see you properly. however, if you complain about wanting him closer, he’ll oblige and move next to you.

after saying “i love you” for the first time to each other, there isn’t a day that comes where he doesn’t remind you. whether it’s before he leaves for a mission or before you both go to bed.

he rests his chin on your head during hugs if you’re shorter. if you’re taller, he leans his forehead against yours instead.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

he pretends he doesn’t care what people think, but when it comes to you, he’s painfully aware of how rough he can come across. he worries you’ll see him as too much.

he complains while doing things for you, but never doesn’t do them. “damn it, you coulda just asked,” he says, while already helping.

he believes anyone close to him will eventually get hurt. loving you feels like defying fate, and that scares him.

a ridiculously good cook. he gets annoyed if you don’t eat properly. will shove food toward you without explanation.

nips at your bottom lip whenever he kisses you just because he knows it makes you giggle.

whenever he has to wake up early for a mission, he moves a lot quieter and carefully around the house so he doesn’t wake you. you’d think he was diffusing a bomb.

he’s bad at compliments, but great at observation. “you look… fine,” he says, which for him means you’re beautiful.

he carries you over puddles even when you insist you can step over them.

MUICHIRO TOKITO

muichiro doesn’t realize when he’s fallen in love. it just… happens. one day he’s neutral, the next he’s quietly orbiting you like it’s instinct.

he forgets a lot of things, but your presence becomes muscle memory. even if he forgets details, he never forgets how safe you feel.

he stands a little closer to you than to others. not on purpose. his body just drifts toward yours.

he doesn’t tease much, but when he does, it’s dry and unexpected, “you’re kind of cute when you’re mad.”

he’s very honest with you. sometimes too honest. “i don’t understand why that hurt you, but i’m sorry it did.”

he lets you brush his hair. sits perfectly still, trusting. if you stop, he quietly asks you to keep going.

insists on kissing you goodnight without fail, no matter the circumstances.

will often stay at your estate for days on end, it confuses the poor crows and kakushi and you gently scold him for it.

usually downplays his injuries when it comes to other people, but does the exact opposite with you because he secretly likes being babied.

OBANAI IGURO

he’s awkward with affection at first. stiff, hesitant—like he’s afraid he’ll do it wrong. once he realizes you won’t recoil, he never stops trying.

he’s extremely protective. stands slightly in front of you without thinking. his hand is always ready to grab yours if things go wrong.

jealousy comes easily to him, but he hates it about himself. instead of lashing out, he grows quieter and more clingy.

he struggles with self-worth. sometimes he genuinely doesn’t understand why you chose him. it makes him cherish you even more.

compliments from you hit him hard. he looks away, ears red, voice low when he mutters a “thank you.”

he’s blunt, but never cruel to you. if anything, he softens his words around you more than anyone else.

he prefers private affection. holding hands where no one can see. quiet forehead touches. leaning in close just to breathe you in.

he memorizes the smallest details about you: how you breathe when you sleep, which side you stand on, when you’re about to get overwhelmed.

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

he expects loyalty—but gives protection in return. no one touches you without consequence.

praise from you feeds his ego more than worship from his followers ever could.

he’s meticulous about your safety. your surroundings, your food, who you speak to, everything is managed.

he’s careful with you physically. his strength is immense, and he never forgets it.

he doesn’t need sleep, but if he’s in a good mood and you ask him to lay with you, he’ll entertain the sentiment.

jealousy is handled clinically. he doesn’t sulk or threaten. people who overstep simply cease to exist.

he allows you to contradict him in private. even argue, so long as you’re honest.

he watches you sleep with something dangerously close to peace on his face.

he dislikes when you hide your emotions from him. not because it angers him—but because he wants to understand you fully.

AKAZA

once you’re his, he is fiercely loyal. akaza does not cheat, does not wander, does not entertain others. his devotion is quiet but absolute.

when he’s worried about you, he becomes restless—pacing, clenching his fists, checking on you more than usual without explaining why.

when you’re injured or exhausted, he becomes surprisingly attentive. bringing you things you need without being asked. hovering just a little.

akaza values honesty above all else. if you lie to him, it hurts more than anger ever could. he’d rather hear a painful truth than a gentle falsehood.

he trains harder when he’s worried or frustrated, and you’re one of the few who can convince him to stop and rest.

you will never catch him raising his voice when speaking with you.

he does chores for you, despite being an inexplicably strong being, he thinks being able to lift duties off of your shoulders and carry out responsibilities for you is one of the highest forms of intimacy.

he’s deeply respectful of your independence, if he catches himself teetering on the line of control, he quickly corrects himself.

DOUMA

douma praises you all the time. your looks, your voice, the way you move, the way you think. it’s excessive, sincere, and almost overwhelming.

he’s extremely protective, though he frames it as concern. “i just couldn’t stand it if you got hurt..”

douma is exceptionally attentive, but it’s observational. he studies you the way one studies a beautiful, complex object, memorizing reactions, habits, emotional triggers.

douma never asks if you’re his. he behaves as though the decision was mutual the moment he made it.

he doesn’t feel guilt when he hurts others for your sake. in fact, he barely registers it, their suffering simply doesn’t weigh against his preference for you.

when you’re gone for too long, he becomes unsettled. not anxious, off-balance. he doesn’t like that feeling, and he associates its absence with you.

douma protects you not only because he prefers you alive, but because harm to you disrupts something internal he cannot name or replace.

he stops certain behaviors around you permanently. not because he feels remorse, but because your withdrawal bothers him more than his habits matter.

if you ask whether he loves you, he answers honestly: “yes.” not because the word means the same thing to him, but because it’s the closest translation.

→ UNFILTERED ADORATION

[synopsis]: giyuu often has a hard time saying no to you.

[characters]: tomioka giyuu

[notes]: i started writing this at 2:42 am, please forgive the mediocre writing i was tired af.. i hope you enjoy anyway

giyuu dislikes crowds.

the word hate is a harsh word, you’ve told him that he should refrain from using it, and instead replace it with words like dislike and phrases like i am not fond of.

but when it comes to crowds, giyuu doesn’t feel that using those truly captures the disdain he holds for when he is forced to be in a situation where more than two humans are in his presence.

giyuu hates crowds.

but then there’s you, annoyingly wonderful and admirable you.

you, who he can’t ever seem to refuse.

you, who he wishes he could reward with every good thing that this world has to offer.

you, who is now stalking over to him in a way that can, simply put, be described as trying to approach a timid animal without startling it.

“giyuu?” your voice comes out quietly as you settle next to him on the edge of the engawa.

he glances up at you from where he had been cleaning off his nichirin sword from the particularly harrowing patrol he had returned from,

“yes, my love?” he responds.

you smile at his warm identification, his mood seems to be fitting for the request you want to make.

after all this time together, the fear of his inevitable rejection still seems to plant a seed of doubt somewhere hidden inside of you.

so, instead of admiring the silhouette of your adoring boyfriend encased in the blending palletes of the lowering sun on the horizon, you opt to instead pretend to be very interested in the flight path of a butterfly in the garden.

“i was talking to shinobu earlier, and uhm, she was telling me about a market she had just recently disposed of a demon in. she said despite the lingering presence of the evil that was just inhabiting it— it was really nice, and that i should go visit.. with you..”

you explained, giyuu knew you well enough to know when you were about to begin rambling, instead of giving you the answer that immediately popped into his head— “you know i am not fond of crowds, y/n”, instead he chose to let you continue your tangent.

“i know that places like that overwhelm you, but i just wanted to spend time with you.. not that you don’t give me enough of your time! you do— and it makes me really, really happy! but, i don’t know..”

you continued for about twenty more seconds, and for every single one, giyuu paid an extensive amount of attention to what you were saying, and it’s safe to say that your convincing has done just that— convinced him.

“y/n.” he cuts you off lightly, his blue eyes gliding up to take hold of your own.

“yes?” you reply, though the word comes out more like a breath.

“i will go with you to the market.” and with that, he sets the cloth aside and stands, sheathing his now shining blade.

you’re still knelt on the wooden platform, and your entire face brightens as you look up at him for confirmation, accompanied by a giddy “really?”

he nods in return, extending his hand out towards you.

you smile up at him, quickly taking his hand as he helps you up off the ground. your hands seemed to fit perfectly together, his cool hands a contrast to the warm weather engulfing you.

the second you step out of the gates of his estate, you already begin gently swinging your arms, and once you reach the market, you wander aimlessly, talking about nothing. the sky, the weather, a bird you saw earlier that looked grumpy. giyuu listens, nodding when appropriate, thumb brushing absently over your knuckles.

he listens like it’s the most important thing he’ll ever hear, his eyes holding nothing but pure, unfiltered adoration for the sight unfolding beside him.

by the time you’ve both returned to his estate (although, you should really be at your own), the world is quiet in that hushed, evening way. you’re standing in front of a mirror, your eyes drooping as you attempt to tie your hair up.

giyuu appears behind you, his hands finding solace resting lightly on your waist before coming up to take the hair tie from your hands and instead tying your hair for you.

you hum in appreciation, leaning back against his chest.

he turns you around gently, hands cupping your cheeks as your head hilts. his thumb swipes over your cheekbone before he speaks,

“you’re exhausted, let’s go to bed before you pass out right here.” his voice envelopes you, an almost unnoticeable teasing undertone to his voice that he only ever dares to use around you.

you nod sleepily, taking his hand, and he guides you towards what can now be officially called your shared futon due to the frequency of your stays.

he lays you down, and your body curls instinctively towards him, you mumble something sleepily before your breath evens out:

“thank you.. for going out with me— today..”

his eyes crinkle as a rare smile spreads across his lips, his fingers thread through your hair and even though he is certain your asleep, he still acknowledges your gratitude with a quiet “you’re welcome.”

the final thought that crosses his mind, is just how much unfiltered adoration he holds for you.

→ KISS ANALYSIS!

[synopsis]: an analysis of the hxh boy’s methods of kissing you (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

[characters]: kurapika kurta, killua zoldyck, gon freecss, illumi zoldyck, chrollo lucilfer, feitan porter

[notes]: super fluffy!! i am currently feeding my huuugee hxh hyperfixation right now so enjoy

KURAPIKA KURTA

our dear kurapika is a very respectful man!! and this respect stands out tenfold when you finally get together

kurapika’s kisses are mostly placed upon your hands, whether its your palms, your knuckles or your pulse point

it feels so intimate to him, and he feels like he is truly expressing the affection he feels for you

initiating a kiss on the lips is rare for him, simply because there’s still a part of him trying to respect your non-existent boundaries, but — he will never shy away from receiving a kiss from you

he carries around some exaggerated responsibility to express his immense appreciation for the hands that care for him and show him so much love every day

KILLUA ZOLDYCK

i didn’t need to think about this one at all, killua’s main route when it comes to kissing you is your nose

it’s quick, simple, and not overwhelmingly intimate — which is perfect for him, because it lets him show affection without feeling exposed or embarrassed

there’s something about the way your nose scrunches after he kisses it that makes him feel like he’s being let into a part of you nobody else gets to see

he’ll act so casual about it too, like leaning in to kiss your nose was no big deal, but everyone can see how pink his ears get every single time

GON FREECSS

his natural instinct, every single time, is to kiss you right on the forehead

to him, a forehead kiss is the warmest kind of affection: it’s grounding, protective, and full of that bright, uncomplicated love he carries for you

he’ll do it without thinking, too — greeting you, saying goodbye, pulling you into a hug, or even just walking past you, he’ll lean in and press a soft kiss right to your forehead like it’s second nature

it’s his favorite place because it feels like he’s pouring warmth straight into you, like he’s giving you a piece of his endless sunshine every time his lips touch your skin

ILLUMI ZOLDYCK

illumi isn’t someone who understands affection the way most people do, so the place he chooses to kiss you ends up being strangely intimate in a very him kind of way — he gravitates toward the side of your neck

it’s not meant to be seductive or dramatic; to him, your neck is simply a vulnerable spot, and placing a kiss there feels like a silent exchange of trust he doesn’t know how to verbalize

the gesture is always slow and deliberate, almost clinical at first, like he’s memorizing your pulse through his lips, but it carries a depth of feeling he doesn’t realize he’s revealing

he doesn’t kiss often, but when he does, the quiet press of his lips against your neck says everything he can’t, and it lingers in that eerie, gentle way that only illumi can manage

CHROLLO LUCILFER

chrollo’s go-to place to kiss you is your temple, right between your brows

there’s something almost reverent about it to him — it’s quiet, steady, and intimate in a way that doesn’t demand anything from you

he likes that it makes you instinctively close your eyes, like you’re trusting him without even thinking about it

he kisses you there most often when he’s leaving, when he’s returning, or when he simply wants to reassure you without interrupting whatever you’re doing

it’s subtle, but it’s the kind of affection that lingers; his lips warm against your skin for just a moment too long, as if he’s silently claiming you as someone precious

FEITAN PORTOR

feitan’s go-to place to kiss you is the underside of your jaw, right where it meets your neck

he likes that it makes you tilt your head just a little, giving him access without words; that tiny movement feels like trust, and he pays attention to it more than he lets on

the spot is vulnerable but not overly tender, which fits him perfectly — intimate without being soft in a way that would make him feel exposed

he prefers it because he can hide the affection behind the angle; it looks like he’s just leaning in or speaking low, but really he’s stealing a kiss you’ll feel for the rest of the day

Today I STUMBLED UPON YOU AGAINN 🥰

Chat this is destiny. This is fate. I'm so happy.

→ MODERN TIMES

[synopsis]: relationships with (some) hashira men in modern days!! yay!

[characters]: tomioka giyuu, shinazugawa sanemi, himejima gyomei, tokito muichiro

[notes]: fluffy! (so sorry for how long this took, marketing is beating my ass and this is kinda buns)

TOMIOKA GIYUU

okay this is really specific but hear me out: you met him at the library on campus of the college you both attend, and after weeks of secretly admiring each other and tiny interactions he finally has the courage to ask you for your number 🥹

he definitely drives you everywhere, even though you’re capable of driving yourself

he’s a dry texter, sorry!! it’s just the truth, but he will send little short thoughtful texts like: “did you eat?” “drive safe.” “i’ll pick you up.”

has a habit on lending you his clothes and forgetting to ask for them back

he collects vinyls, and invites you over to listen to them with him— he cares a lot about your tastes and takes them into consideration when he buys more

he doesn’t like crowds, but will suck it up and follow you wherever you want to go, wether it’s some party you were invited to or a busy mall

he doesn’t really initiate calls, he always answers right away — voice low and soft, asking “are you eating properly?” before admitting that he misses you

SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI

you two probably met because he was being a little bit of an ass and you called him out on it

beneath all that tough talk, he’s ridiculously soft for you—he’ll argue with you about something stupid and then make dinner just the way you like it an hour later

texts you in all caps like: “DON’T FORGET YOUR JACKET.” “EAT SOMETHING.” but he adds a heart emoji if you’re lucky

definitely drives like a menace but always keeps a hand on your thigh while doing it — as if that’ll somehow make it safer

has a soft spot for your bad moods. if you’re upset, he tries to fix it in his own way — bringing you food, wrapping you up in a blanket, muttering “stop crying, you’re too pretty for that” under his breath

gives surprisingly good massages, though he’ll tease you about “being needy” while doing it

i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, this man is an amazing cook and you will never have to worry about food whenever he’s within reach

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA

he’s incredibly nurturing. always making sure you’ve eaten, that you’re resting, that you’re taking care of yourself

he’s the most mature when it comes to jealousy. he trusts you completely, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it sometimes

remembers every small detail — the sound of your laugh, your favorite flower, the way you like your coffee — and always incorporates them into his gestures

makes time for you intentionally. no matter how busy he is, there’s always a quiet hour reserved just for the two of you

whatever place you both choose to settle in will be covered in plants, don’t ask me why, it just spoke to me

you don’t carry anything around this man, no matter how little of a burden it is— he insists on carrying it instead

TOKITO MUICHIRO

he doesn’t always understand emotions right away, but he’s always trying—he listens when you talk, really listens

will absentmindedly play with your fingers or hair when you’re sitting beside him

he forgets small things sometimes, but never about you. your birthday, your favorite color, the way you like your tea — those are permanently stored in his mind

he’ll take random pictures of you when you’re not looking, not to post or show anyone, but just to keep

tends to space out while staring at you — you’ll ask what he’s thinking and he’ll just say, “you look nice.”

jealousy doesn’t come naturally to him — he doesn’t realize he’s jealous at first. he just gets this strange, fuzzy frustration he can’t name

you’ll notice him go quiet, his eyes a little distant. when you ask what’s wrong, he’ll tilt his head and say softly, “why were they standing so close to you?”

he cannot cook for the life of him, and he forgets to eat so much that it’s genuinely concerning. you cook for him instead, and sometimes wonder how he survived before you showed up 🫩

→ WELCOME HOME??

[synopsis]: your beloved husband returns home from a mission early, they’re in for quite the unexpected welcoming.

[characters]: shinazugawa sanemi, tomioka giyuu, iguro obanai

[tags]: fluff

TOMIOKA GIYUU

giyuu pushed open the door just as the sky began to pale—barely morning, the house still draped in that soft, sleepy silence that made everything feel fragile. he’d been gone longer than planned this time, a mission that stretched days too far, and he’d been half-worried he’d find you asleep at your desk again.

but you weren’t asleep.

you were in the courtyard, barefoot on the stone, blade in hand, training shirt damp with sweat. your movements were sharp, rhythmic—each slash clean enough to whistle through the air. you were so focused, you didn’t even notice when his quiet footsteps crossed the threshold.

he hesitated at first, watching for a moment, the faintest warmth tugging at his chest. then he stepped closer—silent as rain.

he reached out, meaning to touch your shoulder. “y/n—”

you spun.

your fist connected with his face before the rest of his sentence made it out. a solid, perfect right hook that sent him staggering half a step back.

there was a beat of silence. birds somewhere nearby went dead quiet.

you blinked once, twice, lowering your stance slowly as realization hit. “…giyuu?”

he straightened, hand pressed to his jaw, blinking back the daze. “…yes.”

“oh my god—” you rushed forward, grabbing his face, scanning for damage. “why would you sneak up on me!? i almost broke your jaw!”

“i said your name,” he murmured, voice still even, like the hit hadn’t just rattled his teeth.

“you whispered it! like some kind of ghost!”

he blinked again, completely unbothered. “i didn’t want to startle you.”

you just stared at him. “you literally startled me.”

“…i see.”

you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “you’re lucky i didn’t draw my sword and stab you!”

he tilted his head slightly. “you’re lucky you didn’t.”

“don’t give me attitude!”

he said nothing to that, but there was a flicker—just a tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it curve at the corner of his mouth.

“is that you smiling?” you accused, narrowing your eyes. “you think this is funny?”

“no,” he said immediately. pause. “a little.”

“you’re the worst,” you grumbled, though the corners of your own mouth were betraying you now. “come here, let me see.”

you reached up, gently tilting his chin, thumb brushing over the faint red mark blooming along his jaw. “…i actually hit you really hard.”

“you did.”

“does it hurt?”

“yes.”

you frowned. “you’re way too calm about that.”

“i’m used to pain.”

“don’t say it like that, giyuu,” you sighed, half laughing despite yourself.

he watched you for a moment, quiet, eyes softening. “you’re awake early.”

“couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “felt weird with you gone.”

“i’m home now.”

you met his gaze, your hand still on his cheek. “you are.”

“and you hit me.”

you snorted. “and i hit you.”

he nodded once, thoughtful. “you should ice your hand.”

you blinked. “my hand?”

he looked faintly amused again. “it must hurt after that punch.”

you laughed then, full and unrestrained, and leaned forward to press a kiss against the side of his jaw—the same spot you’d just nailed a minute ago. “welcome home, idiot.”

his hand came up to rest lightly on your back, voice barely above a murmur. “it’s good to be home. next time, i’ll call out sooner.”

“you better,” you teased, “or next time i’ll aim lower.”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he said, deadpan—and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest smile tug at his lips as he pulled you closer.

SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI

it was barely past dusk when sanemi’s boots hit the path home, the last light bleeding out behind him. he rolled his shoulders, jaw tight from a long mission, half a dozen new bruises scattered across his arms. all he wanted was to drop his sword somewhere, eat something that wasn’t dried rations, and see you.

he expected to find you asleep, but no—there you were in the yard, training like it was midday. hair pulled back messily, breathing steady, the soft glow of a lantern catching the edge of your blade.

he couldn’t help it. he slowed down, watching for a second. his lips twitched into that barely-there grin he never admitted to having.

he walked closer, quiet as a cat. you were so focused you didn’t notice him until he was right behind you. he lifted a hand—just to rest it on your shoulder—

—and that was his mistake.

you reacted instantly, pivoting on your heel and driving your fist straight into his chest.

hard.

“augh—!” the air left him in one ugly sound, and he stumbled a full step back, clutching where you’d hit him.

you froze mid-stance. “…sanemi!?”

he wheezed, half-coughing, half-laughing. “holy hell, woman—what was that!?”

“you snuck up on me!”

“i live here!” he barked, still rubbing his sternum.

“then act like it! make some noise next time!”

he scowled between breaths. “i did!”

“a grunt isn’t noise!”

he gave a low growl, but the corner of his mouth was twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “you almost broke a rib.”

“you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“tch.” he straightened up finally, jaw tightening, then smirked. “i leave for a week and you start hittin’ me instead of sayin’ hello.”

“you shouldn’t have crept up on me!”

“you shouldn’t have a damn right hook that strong!”

you sighed, walking over to press a hand to his chest. “does it hurt?”

he smirked. “nah. kinda liked it.”

you groaned. “don’t say that like it’s supposed to be romantic.”

“what, it ain’t?” he teased, eyes glinting under the lantern light. “means my girl’s got a killer instinct.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“yeah, but i’m yours.”

you tried not to smile, but failed. “i should’ve hit you harder.”

“you can try,” he said, grin widening.

you gave him a look, voice dry. “you really want another punch?”

he chuckled, stepping closer. “nah, i’ll take somethin’ else instead.”

“like what?”

“this,” he muttered, leaning in and kissing you—quick, rough-edged, still tasting faintly of laughter and exhaustion.

you blinked when he pulled away, expression softening despite yourself. “you’re lucky i love you, you idiot.”

“yeah,” he said, voice low, almost fond. “i know.”

he brushed his thumb under your chin, the smirk back but smaller now. “next time i’ll yell before i touch ya.”

“good,” you said, poking his chest again. “save us both a bruise.”

he laughed, the sound sharp but genuine. “no promises.”

“sanemi—”

“what? you keep me on my toes.”

IGURO OBANAI

kind of late where even the cicadas had stopped. the sky was dark, heavy with stars, the air faintly cool against his skin. he’d finished patrol early for once, bandages pulled loose and the faint smell of blood still clinging to him.

he thought you’d be asleep. you should’ve been asleep. but he caught the flicker of lantern light from the courtyard and heard the faint, rhythmic swish of a blade cutting through air.

you were still training.

he lingered at the edge of the veranda for a second, watching. you were fluid — precise — each movement sharper than the last. he never interrupted you when you were like this; there was a kind of quiet devotion in how you practiced, something he could watch forever.

still, he wanted you to know he was home.

he stepped forward silently, approaching from behind, and reached out to tap your shoulder.

you moved on instinct.

before he could speak, your elbow snapped back hard and caught him across the jaw.

crack.

he stumbled half a step, one hand flying to his face, the other steadying him on the railing.

you froze, eyes wide. “—obanai!?”

he blinked, the world tilting just slightly as he straightened. “…yes.”

“oh my god!” you dropped your sword immediately and rushed to him. “i thought you were— i don’t know— something else! why didn’t you say anything!?”

his voice came out muffled through the bandages as he rubbed his jaw. “i… was going to.”

“you were going to!? when!?”

“…after I touched your shoulder.”

you groaned, hands flying up to your face. “you can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

he blinked, quiet for a beat. “you never hear me any other time.”

“yeah, and look where that got you!” you said, prying his hand away to check the damage. “ugh, that’s definitely bruising—”

“i’ve had worse,” he said evenly, though his tone had the faintest twinge of amusement.

you frowned. “don’t start being smug about it.”

he tilted his head slightly. “it’s… impressive. you reacted quickly.”

“you’re complimenting me right now?”

“i’m acknowledging your reflexes.”

you gave him a look. “you got punched. by your wife.”

he hummed, gaze softening under his fringe. “a strong wife.”

you gawked. “you are so weird.”

he smiled faintly — small, crooked, but unmistakable. “you’re the one who hit me.”

you sighed, pressing your fingers gently along his jaw. “does it hurt?”

“no.”

“liar.”

“…a little,” he admitted, quiet as always.

you softened. “you need ice.”

“i need you to stop worrying.”

“not happening.”

his hand came up, resting over yours lightly. “i’ll be fine. besides,” he murmured, voice lowering, “you hit softer than you think.”

“oh, really?” you said, arching a brow. “you want to test that theory again?”

“not particularly,” he said quickly, though his tone was betraying him — calm, but faintly amused.

you shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“i’m aware.”

you leaned in a little, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “next time, maybe say something before you sneak up on me?”

“what should i say?”

“i don’t know—‘it’s me’? ‘don’t punch me’? something!”

he considered it for a second. “…‘don’t punch me’ might ruin the moment.”

“so would a broken jaw.”

he chuckled softly, under his breath — quiet, but genuine. “fair point.”

“welcome home, by the way,” you murmured.

he glanced down at you, that small smile still in his eyes. “thank you. even if my homecoming was… violent.”

“you deserved it.”

“for what?”

“for scaring me.”

“…then i’ll keep doing it.”

“obanai!”

he laughed softly again, a low sound against the quiet night. “i’m teasing.”

“you’re terrible.”

“and you’re dangerous,” he said, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “we make an interesting pair.”

you smiled. “yeah. somehow it works.”

“somehow,” he echoed, eyes softening as he leaned close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper. “i missed you.”

you nudged his shoulder gently. “you could’ve just said that first thing.”

“i was going to,” he murmured again, with the faintest smirk. “before you hit me.”

→ PRETTY

[synopsis]: muichiro thinks you’re pretty, so that’s how he remembers you.

[characters]: tokito muichiro

[tags]: fluff

he doesn’t remember much these days.

names, faces, places — they all blur together.

like mist curling and dissolving at dawn.

so when he meets you for the first time, he expects you to fade too.

you’re standing at the edge of a garden, holding a crow on your arm.

the afternoon light spills gold through the leaves, catching in your hair, and for a brief second, it feels like everything slows down.

“tokito muichiro?” you ask softly.

he blinks, silent.

“i’m (name),” you say. “i’ve heard about you.”

you smile — not too wide, not forced. it’s quiet, genuine, and it makes something in his chest shift in a way he doesn’t have a word for.

he gives a small nod. “…hello.”

and that’s all.

that night, when he’s up late training beneath the stars again, he tries to remember your name.

he remembers your voice, the light, the warmth —

but the word itself slips away like everything else.

what stays is that faint image of you.

the curve of your smile.

the way the air felt softer when you were near.

he doesn’t have a word for that feeling.

so he chooses one.

pretty.

the next time he sees you, it’s after training.

you’re sitting on the engawa, sipping tea.

he stops, just watching you for a moment — like he’s making sure you’re real.

you glance up and smile. “tokito-san!”

“…pretty,” he says before he can stop himself.

you blink, startled. “…what?”

he tilts his head slightly. “that’s what i remembered.”

you laugh, a little pink touching your cheeks. “you’re not very good with names, huh?”

“no,” he admits, “but i remember what’s important.”

you don’t ask what he means.

and he doesn’t realize, until later, that he’s been thinking about that conversation for days.

by the time you start dating, the word feels less like a nickname and more like a habit — a rhythm, a constant, something that fits between breaths.

“pretty, you’re still awake?”

“pretty, come here.”

“pretty, i missed you.”

he says it when he’s half-asleep, voice muffled against your shoulder.

he says it when you’re fixing the edge of his uniform.

he says it when he doesn’t know how else to say that he cares.

and every time, it sounds like the same quiet truth he’s been holding since that first day.

sometimes you tease him about it.

“you do know my actual name, right?”

he hums, leaning against you, half his weight resting in your lap.

“of course.”

“then why—”

“because you’re pretty,” he murmurs, without even thinking.

and it’s so natural, so soft, so him that you can’t even find the words to tease him anymore.

you just brush his hair away from his face and smile, whispering fleeting words of praise.

he blinks up at you, slow and hazy.

and for once, he smiles — a small, fleeting thing,

but one that makes the whole world feel lighter.

→ NO PRESSURE

[synopsis]: you and who you’ve labeled as your “situationship” get into a bit of a heated moment, but you’re not ready for that yet. they comfort you, yay.

[characters]: giyuu, sanemi

[tags]: slightly suggestive, fluff, comfort

TOMIOKA GIYUU

you and giyuu were not in a relationship.

it was that simple.

do you often catch him staring at you during meetings? yes.

does his hand linger whenever he’s assisting you on missions? also yes.

do you guys share kisses within the confinement of his estate? also yes.

is the tension between you so thick it’s almost unbearable? the kind that makes your pulse jump when his eyes linger too long, when his voice drops low, when the space between you starts to feel anything but innocent?

absolutely.