randomness7198

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･SAKURA HARUKA °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You and Sakura were walking home after hanging out with Suo and Nirei. Since the two of you shared the same route, it was only natural that he’d make sure you got home safely—he always did, even if he pretended it was just convenience.

You were that kind of friend.

Dark humor clung to you like a second skin, and everyone accepted it as just you. They never thought much of it—because you never wanted them to. It wasn’t meant to worry anyone. It was how you survived. How you kept things light enough to breathe.

Sakura hated it at first.

Those jokes left something sour on his tongue, a quiet discomfort he couldn’t name. But when he realized you laughed it off, waved it away like it was nothing—just humor, just exaggeration—he forced himself to accept it. Over time, he learned to tolerate it.

Because, somehow… he sensed it.

That it was your way of holding yourself together. Your way of asking for help without actually asking.

Which was why tonight felt wrong.

You were normal.

Painfully so.

You reacted normally, judged things normally, carried conversations like anyone else would. No jokes. No deflection. No darkness dressed up as humor. Just… you, stripped of all the things that usually made you you.

And Sakura felt it deep in his chest, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

The streets were dim, quiet except for the sound of your footsteps. After a while, Sakura finally spoke.

“Are you okay?”

You stopped.

Your eyes met his—and they were honest. Too honest. Clear, sincere, genuine.

You swallowed hard.

You hated this side of him. The gentle way he looked at you, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. The way his gaze pressed against your chest and made it feel heavy, tight—like lying to him would fracture something inside you instantly.

Because this was Sakura.

Your eyes softened, and he didn’t miss it.

“I am,” you said.

And you meant it.

After all—you were okay.

Sakura opened his mouth again, then closed it. His brows knit together, troubled, like he wanted to ask more, say more—but didn’t know how. Not with his past. Not with his fears.

You let out a small chuckle at the sight, and he glanced at you, confused.

'Right.. Sakura had always been this pure.'

And you didn't have any plans on hiding anything to this boy.

“Sakura,” you called.

He tilted his head slightly, attentive.

“I’ve given up.”

The words fell quietly between you.

And just like that, the light in his eyes vanished.

“What…?”

--

・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦・HAJIME UMEMIYA・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦・

You worked part-time at a flower shop, and Hajime was one of your most loyal customers.

At first, his presence was purely accidental. The store he usually bought fertilizer from didn’t have what he needed, so he wandered in here instead—by chance, by convenience. You just happened to be on shift that day.

And maybe… that was when it started.

He noticed the way your eyes lingered on a lone white peony, fingers brushing the rim of its pot like you were afraid it might disappear if you looked away too long.

There was something achingly quiet in your gaze—something lonely.

After that, he kept coming back.

Sometimes to buy supplies. Sometimes just to check on things. And sometimes, thanks to his help—and a few of his members—petty thugs who caused trouble around the shop were dealt with before they could leave you sweeping broken pots off the floor.

You were a plant maniac, just like him.

You preferred growing flowers over vegetables, though you were knowledgeable in both. That shared love became common ground, and before either of you noticed, conversation came easily. Naturally.

But Hajime knew.

Behind the bright smiles you wore so effortlessly, there was something painful you kept tucked away.

Something unresolved. Something heavy.

He recognized that look.

Hell—he’d worn it himself before.

So when you told him one day that you wanted to give him something, he was... genuinely excited.

That was, until he followed you to the back of the shop.

There, sitting in quiet pride, was a pot of white peonies—fully bloomed, healthy, beautiful.

“Eh—are you sure you’re giving this to me?” he asked, confusion clear in his voice.

They were too beautiful to part with.

You nodded without hesitation.

“Yeah. You see, I’ve got too many things to do now,” you said lightly, almost fondly.

“I don’t think I can take care of this little one properly anymore.”

You spoke as if it were a child you were entrusting to someone else, and Hajime couldn’t help but smile at how gentle you were.

But then he noticed it.

The way your eyes lingered on the peony.

The way you looked at it like you were saying goodbye.

Hajime had always been good at knowing.

“Are you... leaving?” he asked slowly.

His tone stayed warm, his smile soft—but there was seriousness underneath it.

Your eyes finally met his.

You looked genuinely startled.

After all, the two of you barely knew each other. Yet somehow, the bond you shared was enough to cross that line.

'Ah... there’s no point lying to this man.'

You gave him a carefree smile.

And Hajime felt his chest grow unbearably heavy.

“Maybe...?” you mumbled, as if unsure. Your smile didn’t waver.

You sounded cheerful—as if the conversation wasn’t tearing something open.

But you both knew what he was really asking.

“You don’t sound sure,” Hajime said gently. “Maybe you should think about it more.”

You hummed, as though actually considering it.

“Right... I should think about it more.”

Then you looked at him. “But, Hajime..”

Something in his eyes trembled.

“I’ve already given up.”

And he swore—

he felt his world begin to shatter, slowly and silently, like glass cracking under pressure it could no longer withstand.

--

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟSUO HAYATO୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

Suo met you by accident.

He, Sakura, and Nirei were patrolling when they found a group of thugs already sprawled on the ground—groaning, unconscious, defeated. And in the middle of it all was you.

Alert. Defensive. Eyes sharp, body coiled like you were waiting for the next hit.

Just like Sakura had been at first.

Maybe that was why the three of them got invested so quickly. And maybe that was why Suo watched you the closest.

Somehow, the four of you fell into a routine. Hanging out during breaks. Sharing ice cream by convenience stores. Wandering aimlessly when there was nothing urgent to do. Moments that felt ordinary—but safe.

They knew you were forgetful. You forgot schedules, meeting times, sometimes even names. Small things. You always laughed it off, swore it wasn’t that bad.

Suo never laughed.

Because he noticed the smaller things.

The way your eyes dulled when you stared at the sky. How you grew quiet when everything was finally peaceful. How your smile softened when you walked a step behind them, watching Nirei and Sakura bicker like children.

He knew you were carrying something heavy—something even he couldn’t reach.

So he did what he always did.

He waited.

He trusted time.

That day, the four of you were at a nearby park, sitting on the grass beneath blooming cherry trees. Spring had painted everything gentle.

Kotoha had packed lunches. You brought snacks. Suo brought tea.

It was calm—until it wasn’t.

Nirei and Sakura started bickering again, voices rising until Nirei accidentally knocked the mayonnaise from his chicken straight onto Sakura’s face.

Silence.

Then—

Sakura grabbed the nearest thing beside him.

Suo’s cup.

Nirei shrieked.

“Hold up! Damn it, Nirei!” Sakura stood up fast—but carefully placed the cup down before sprinting after him.

You laughed.

A quiet, genuine chuckle.

Suo didn’t miss it.

“They’re like kids,” you said

He smiled. “You’re not wrong.”

Then—without looking— you handed him a clean cloth.

“You hate it when people leave fingerprints on your cup, right?”

His smile faltered.

Just for a second.

He stared at the cloth, then at you.

Looking back... today, you were strange.

Too calm.

None of your usual sensitivity, none of your restlessness.

“How unusual,” Suo said lightly, slipping the cloth into his hand.

“For you to remember things like this.”

You blinked, confused—then your lips curved faintly, like you understood what he meant.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You usually forget things that matter.”

You didn’t deny it, he was correct.

Instead, you leaned back against the grass, eyes drifting to the sky.

“I guess people remember,” you murmured, “when they’re trying to put things in order.”

That—

That was when Suo knew.

His chest tightened, something cold settling deep beneath the calm.

Because people didn’t do that unless they were preparing.

“...That’s funny,” Suo said, voice gentle, dangerous in its steadiness.

“People only talk like that when they’ve already decided something"

Your eyes finally met his. That calm, soft peaceful smile you gave him as your answer,

It was enough for his smile to drop completely.

“How generous. Maybe you just make good tea is all.” You still opt to tease him as you slot your hips down on top of his, thankful that he chose a particularly large chair for his office so that it may fit both of you.

And almost immediately you feel Wriothesley’s other arm reach up to accompany the first, clasping his hands on your lower back as he keeps you seated tight on his lap. You feel his next breath against your skin when he leans in to nose at your jawline, “Well, you would be right about that.” His voice purrs, and you find yourself wriggling a bit closer.

“Though, you wouldn’t want the tea to get cold now, would you?” There’s a suggestive sort of lilt to Wriothesley’s voice and it makes you feel so terribly warm on top of him as he tips his head towards the two teacups on his desk. “And after I went through such effort to brew that special batch for you.” But you snap your head back around to frown at him almost too quickly when his hand seems to settle a little lower on your back this time, dangerously so as his fingers tease the hem of your pants.

You roll your shoulders back as you try to regain control, “I don’t know what you mean I’m just getting comfortable. Mind in the gutter, your grace?” And that little act seems to make Wriothesley chuckle, a charming enough sound to have you reach up to wrap your arms around his shoulders and he relents with his teasing. Resting his hands on the dip of your waist instead.

You hug yourself in a little closer as he welcomes you, and the next press of his lips against your throat makes you shudder. “Hah, very funny. Though you do seem to be quite comfortable, I think your poker face could use some work.” He eventually opts to respond, a little smug as his fingers squeeze into your waist and you smack playfully at his hands before taking a more comfortable position, nuzzling into the crook of his neck this time.

Maybe it’s the warmth that Wriothesley always seems to radiate but you can’t help but suddenly feel sleepy in your new found position. Your lashes flutter as you fight beneath the sudden weight of your eyelids, and your lips pout out to press against his skin. “Mind if I stay like this then?”

The adorable little tone of your voice makes the Duke hum, and the sound makes you curl even deeper into him as his hands begin to squeeze and massage at your waist. He gives the documents on his desk another look, and then pulls you a bit closer before he’s leaning down to smear a kiss against your shoulder.

“You won’t hear me complaining about the company. Seems your methods are just far too tempting.”

⭒ DILUC

You’re careful as you push open the door to Diluc’s quarters in the Dawn Winery, finding him sifting through various contracts and pieces of paper as he rests on his desk. He sighs before he sees you, and you find it to be quite charming the way that the tension in his shoulders seems to melt when he eventually notices you.

“Yes, my dear?” His voice drawls as he greets you, probably a little strained and tired given how long he’s been working. But you’ve found yourself to be quite bored in your lovers absence, hence the impromptu visit— so instead of responding, you opt to make your way across the room instead.

You’re quiet as you find yourself standing next to Diluc’s seated figure and it’s quite adorable how quickly he seems to pick up on what you want when you nudge at his forearm. So he pulls it back from the table for a moment, and gives you a curious sort of look as you push yourself up into his lap as he helps you balance on there.

It’s only when your thighs are dangling to one side of his own that he questions you, your butt settling quite nicely atop his legs from where they rest on his seat. “Is everything okay? If you’re hungry, I’m sure Adelinde will have dinner ready for you soon enough.” It’s a comforting sort of question as he rubs his fingers up and down your thighs, and the look that accompanies it is just as gentle— like he’s offering you a space to talk to him should something bother you.

But instead, you give Diluc a reassuring sort of grin as you let one of your hands wrap around his shoulders. “Is it so bad to want to keep my lover company while he works?” You hum as you kick your feet, leaning in to rest your cheek against his broad shoulder.

Your affection makes him clear his throat as he begins to sort through the documents on his desk again, pushing them into a neat pile. It’s not like he’s even paying attention anymore anyway, not when he’s got you so close. “Oh, not at all. I just didn’t expect to see you in here, is all. Though it’s quite well timed, I actually could do with a break from my work.”

His words make you smile, though you’re almost beaming when Diluc turns around to emphasis them with a kiss smeared against your forehead. You have to clear your throat before melting into him entirely,

“What’re you working on?” You ask earnestly as you motion to the documents on the table, and he breaks his attention away from you to follow the gesture before readjusting you on his lap. He’s holding you a bit closer as one of his arms securely wraps itself around you.

“Nothing too interesting, simple contracts for the winery. I hate to admit I’ve fallen behind with them recently, though it’s due to finding myself caught up with… something much more interesting as of late.” The second half of Diluc’s sentence seems to take a much more gentle tone of voice, and when you tilt your head up to look at him the answer is written in the way he’s already looking back.

But still you ask anyway, pushing yourself up a little closer and he welcomes the proximity as his arm around you tightens. “And what might that be, Master Diluc?” Your lips pout out and you watch the way his gaze drops to admire them.

“I think you already know the answer to that, my dear.” Diluc’s next blink is accompanied by the shift of his free hand, lifting it up to rest his fingers against your chin and its soft the way his thumb moves up to swipe against your lower lip. Gently, as you find yourself holding your breath for a moment.

Though only for a moment before your lover seems to clear his throat himself, not wanting to get carried away too quickly as his hand drops back onto the table of documents. And you feel the way he readjusts himself on his seat again before turning away to look at his work, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I won’t be occupied for much longer then my attention is all yours. If you’d be so kind enough to wait, that is?”

But still Diluc’s hold around you is tight and maybe that’s why you can’t help but give him a little kiss on his cheek before making yourself comfy on his lap.

“Okay. I don’t mind waiting for you.”

⭒ ALHAITHAM

The living room is soundless when you step into it, being greeted by a quiet, gentle acknowledgement from Alhaitham as he lifts up his gaze from the book he’s reading to offer you look. It makes something curious, but also mischievous spark in your brain as you find yourself pushing a little closer and you notice the way the scribe seems to have left space for you next to him.

“What’re you reading?” You ask softly, breaking the silence in the room as your lover turns his attention back to his book and he clears his throat before he answers you. Expecting you to crawl by his side much like you normally do no doubt.

“Just something I picked up from the Akademiya. I respect your curiosity but I’m sure you don’t care much for the details.” But you don’t do as Alhaitham expects actually, instead— you wind up pushing yourself a little closer than you usually would, though it’s a movement he seems to react to quite quickly.

He lifts up his arm to aid you in crawling beneath it, and he doesn’t question why you’re suddenly crawling your way into his lap until your thighs are spread over both of his own. He simply readjusts himself to hold the book in one hand while the other rests on your hips, holding you there as you tilt your head down at him.

“That wouldn’t be true. I like listening to you talk.” You hum, honestly and Alhaitham shifts again. He gives you another glance, though it’s a more inquisitive one this time— like he’s trying to figure out your motive… or if somethings wrong. Anything to explain your current position.

He opts to ultimately just ask, “Then might I ask what this is all about then, hm?” but his fingers in your side squeeze as if to assure you he’s not at all bothered by it. It makes you shift yourself in a little closer as your own hands rest on his shoulders.

“I’m just making myself comfortable, is that okay with you?” You’re smiling as you respond, and the expression urges Alhaitham to look back at the pages of his book again as he clears his throat. Suddenly a little too aware of how pretty you look accompanied by how warm you feel on his lap, and that’s a combination that seems to be a little too bothersome for him.

He plays it off as he strokes his fingertips along your waist, “Oh really? I don’t mind. I was just simply curious is all.” And he shrugs his shoulders as if to emphasis the fact, “It’s not often you ask for my permission to do these things anyway.”

But his honestly still makes you giggle as you bring yourself a little closer, nuzzling into the crook of Alhaitham’s neck before you respond to him. “Maybe it’s because you never tell me no.”

And that makes him scoff before he’s turning his attention back to you again, placing his finger between the pages of his book to make sure he doesn’t lose his space. “Well, to put it simply that’s because you seem to enjoy spending our free time together in similar circumstances, and having you upset would be too much of a hassle.” His lips press against your cheek as he turns ever so slightly to meet your gaze, and you meet the motion by pulling back to give him a look of your own.

It’s a cheeky, affectionate look that makes his eyes drop to your lips, just for a moment before he’s humming. “Unless, you would rather I moved to the other couch?” Alhaitham tilts his head at you before he pretends to shift, acting like he’s going to push you off and move away and despite the way you know he’d never dream of it, you react anyway.

Your arms wrap tight around his shoulders as you push yourself close enough to have your chest flush with his, and your words take an almost whiny tone as you grumble. “No! I didn’t say that.”

It makes Alhaitham chuckle gently before he’s leaning back against the couch again, and his fingers on your waist squeeze you a bit before they’re stroking along the skin. “Hm, my thoughts exactly.”

⭒ NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette is exactly where you expect him to be in his office when you visit him during his break, resting on the couch with a glass of water as he sips at it politely. Though his attention is almost immediately drawn to you the moment you step into the room, commanding every part of him as his body shifts to face you a bit.

You offer him a soft sort of smile as you close the heavy door behind you, dropping your bag at your feet before going to join him on the couch. But not without offering him an acknowledgment as you glance at the clock, “I hope i’ve not kept you waiting long.” You say, shyly almost.

But Neuvillette meets the apology with a soft sort of huff, like he’s chuckling— though unbothered by whatever you seem to deem worthy of such an explanation. “Not at all. I was expecting your arrival about now, my dear.”

He shifts from where he sits a bit, as if he’s making room for you by his side and he motions to the second glass of water on the table before placing his back down next to it. “I hope it’ll be to your taste.” His voice sounds again, and maybe it’s the soft lull it takes that convinces you to not drop down on the couch next to him.

Instead, you can’t help but place your hand on Neuvillette’s shoulder as you step one of your legs over his own, earning you a curious look before you’re dropping your weight down on his lap, and it’s almost nervously that the Iudex reaches to steady you. Though it’s rather clumsy at first, he seems to regain his composure quite quickly as he clears his throat.

“Something the matter, my dear? It’s unlike you to normally be so brash.” He hums as he gives you a gentle blink, though you find the soft pink flush that accompanies it to be quite adorable. It makes you reach your free hand up to rest on the other shoulder as you wiggle a bit closer.

“Nope, I’m good. Unless you don’t like it, I can just leave if you’d prefer.” You’re teasing him, and whether Neuvillette picks up on that or not isn’t exactly obvious. But you do pick up on the way the next shuffle of your body on his lap makes him gulp, and he decides to turn away from you for a moment before his hands settle on your hips.

They seem quite restless as they press you flush against him. “Quite the contrary. I look forward to your visits during my afternoon break.” Though his response is as honest as ever, you can’t help but find yourself feeling warm at the confession.

You hum as a means to play it off, but the tinge of pink that still decorates Neuvillette’s cheeks makes you lean in a bit to appreciate it with a kiss. A soft sort of one that makes his fingers twitch into his side as you giggle, “Even more when our time is spent like this?”

The Iudex answers quite quickly to your question, though he clears his throat first to make sure his voice doesn’t shake. “Well, you could say I am quite fond of our current position.” He’s smiling when he opts to keep you in that close proximity with his hands, not allowing you to pull away too much just yet as he looks up at you.

Instead, Neuvillette mirrors the motion that you’d made earlier— though when he leans in he begins by grazing his lips up the column of your throat first. To your jawline, then the shell of your ear and the way he exhales against the soft skin almost makes you arch as his fingertips squeeze at you.

You almost forget where you are for a moment before he’s breathing out a long, pent up sigh.

“With that said however, I can only hope we remain undisturbed so that we may truly enjoy it.”

⭒ CHILDE

Some may assume Childe to be sleeping as he rests on your couch now, his arm is outstretched to reach across the back of the furniture and his head is leaning back against it too. Not to mention his chest is rising and falling gently, and his breathing is just as soft as you take a quiet step into the living room to take a closer look.

Yes, some may expect him to be asleep, but you know better than anyone that he had a cheeky habit of trying to trick you with these things. But thankfully after so much time together, you know the exact way to test out that little theory as you continue closer with gentle steps.

Though Childe could be doing with the rest after all of the missions he’s been on recently— you also know not to let your guard down. So you almost find yourself holding your breath as you come to stand over where he rests on the sofa, admiring the rare softness to his features as he snores softly.

It almost makes you rethink your plan for a second, even going as far as to take a step back to let him rest, but your thought process on that comes to a close quite quickly when the arm suddenly wrapping around your waist stops you from going any further.

“Going somewhere?” Childe hums as he quickly guides you back to close the distance, almost too eagerly making space for you on his lap and pulling you into the very position you’d planned to take for yourself. Except now he’s looking awake and far too smug, even a little teasing aswell despite the fact he was so quiet a moment ago.

It makes you wish he really was asleep as he helps you straddle him. “And here I thought you were coming over to accompany me.” The Harbinger sends you a playful sort of pout as he comes in close, resting his chin against your chest when he’s got you close enough to blink up at you from there.

And if he wasn’t giving you such a cute, faux-heartbroken expression you’d flick his forehead to get him to let you go.

But you know better than to try and fight against his strength as you opt to melt into his warmth a bit instead. You sigh, grumbling a bit “I knew you were awake.” and Childe’s sad-looking expression is quickly morphing into a subtle sort of smirk before he’s turning to press a kiss against your skin.

Even through the fabric of your shirt, you feel his words vibrate through the space. “Oh I was definitely sleeping.” He huffs, followed by another kiss before his lips are travelling a bit higher and you can’t help but find your hands combing through his hair as you bask in him. “And now you’re the one scheming to wake me— it’s only fair you make it up me.” Though his kisses aren’t without a little teasing, when he pulls away to give you another blink.

“So? Anything you’d like to offer?” There’s an ulterior motive to Childe’s words and it’s painfully obvious when you feel his hands creeping their way beneath the hem of your shirt. The first press of his fingertips makes you keen and bend at his will as you watch the expression on his features morph into something…. hungrier.

And that makes you swallow before you finally find it in yourself to answer, huffing as you pretend to turn away from him.

“This isn’t enough for you?” You say, feigning hurt much like he did earlier but that doesn’t do much to stop the way your body is reacting to Childe’s fingertips. Not when they’re grazing up the length of your spine now and he presses his lips up against the base of your throat as he holds you there.

“Actually, I’d say this only makes me want even more.” He responds quickly, chuckling like he’s just told you a joke, but you don’t think jokes are supposed to make you this flustered. If your thighs weren’t straddling his own you think they’d be squeezing themselves together by now.

But all you can offer as it stands is a whine, “Ajax, you were so tired a moment ago.” And it’s a sound that Childe seems to take much joy in as he lets his teeth tease along the skin of your throat next. Just as his hands begin to toy and palm ticklishly at your skin, and just enough to make you press yourself a little closer as you feel him grin against your throat.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve had more than enough rest to deal with you.”

He observes the way you stumble into the Favonius library half-asleep. The way your jokes start sounding hollow. The way your hands shake slightly when you gather your belongings.

He notices everything, but instead of confronting you outright, he watches and waits. Because if he says something too soon, you’ll deflect. He knows that look in your eyes. He’s worn it before.

2. He starts teasing you, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

“Working hard, or hardly living?” he asks as you pass each other in the courtyard.

He smirks, but his eyes linger a little too long. He’s not just being playful—he’s prodding. Testing. Waiting to see how far you’ll let this go.

When you respond with a tired laugh, he stops smiling the moment you turn away.

3. He starts interfering in subtle, Kaeya ways.

Suddenly, your paperwork gets rerouted. Your less urgent assignments are mysteriously taken care of by someone else. You suspect something, but no one owns up to it.

(Meanwhile, Kaeya just whistles to himself as he shuffles behind Jean’s desk, filing forms under other names.)

4. When you snap at him from exhaustion, he drops the charm.

You’re overwhelmed, frustrated, and barely holding it together. He makes one offhand comment—too well-timed—and you crack. You say something sharp, or maybe you just burst into tears.

He doesn’t joke this time. He walks over, places a hand on your shoulder, and quietly says, “Alright. That’s enough. Come with me.”

5. He drags you out—literally, if needed.

Whether it’s to a tavern booth, the fields overlooking the city, or his own cluttered office couch, he gets you somewhere quiet and safe.

He lets you vent. Or cry. Or sleep.

And when you finally go quiet, he murmurs, “You don’t need to break yourself just to prove something. Not to them, not to me, and definitely not to yourself.”

6. He opens up, not with drama, but honesty.

Kaeya doesn’t talk about himself easily. But when he sees you struggling with the weight of expectations, he lets his own mask slip just enough.

“You know, I’ve spent years pretending everything’s fine. Holding the city together with a smile and a glass of wine. It catches up to you, eventually.” He chuckles, bitter and soft. “You’re not weak for needing rest. You’re smart if you take it before exhaustion eats you alive.”

7. He uses charm as a shield, but his actions speak for him.

He’ll still flirt, still joke, still act like he’s just checking in for fun. But you’ll find a warm meal left on your desk. A blanket tossed over your shoulders. A carefully worded letter handed to your superior asking for a day off—“On urgent Cavalry Captain business,” of course.

8. When you finally give in and rest, he stays close.

Kaeya isn’t the type to hover, but when you’re asleep on his couch or passed out over your books, he lingers nearby. He nurses a drink, watches the fire, and speaks into the air, “Don’t become like me. Please.”

He never says it to your face. But he means it.

wanderer

1. He notices your burnout before you do, and it ticks him off.

You’re waking up with three hours of sleep, skipping meals, muttering about deadlines with ink-stained hands. Wanderer watches you rub your eyes raw and shuffle through your fifth task of the day, and his first reaction isn’t concern; it’s irritation.

“Are you seriously doing this to yourself again?”

Because you remind him too much of himself, throwing your whole existence at something because it makes you feel like you matter. And he hates it.

2. He gets angry not at you, but at what you’re doing to yourself.

At first it comes out as sarcasm. Sharp, cold words: “Oh? Burning the candle at both ends again? Don’t worry—if you collapse, I’m sure someone will scrape you off the floor.”

You bristle—of course you do—and that’s when he snaps.

“Why do you think this is okay? Why are you letting yourself fall apart like this?”

There’s hurt buried deep in his voice. He doesn’t even realize he’s yelling for himself, too.

3. He storms off, but he always comes back.

After blowing up, he disappears for a few hours. When he returns, he’s quieter. Still bitter, still defensive, but with a plate of food or a thermos of tea shoved toward you.

“Don’t read into it. You looked pathetic. Someone had to do something.”

4. He doesn’t understand why you’re doing this, and that terrifies him.

“You’re not a machine. Not a tool. So why are you treating yourself like one?”

It slips out in a moment of vulnerability. You look at him—really look—and he hates the way your eyes mirror exhaustion he knows too well.

“You’re not a puppet like me. You don’t have to be.”

5. He starts interrupting your routine on purpose.

He’ll close your book mid-sentence. Physically turn off your lamp. Pull you away from your work, grumbling the whole time.

“No one’s asking you to kill yourself over this.”

And if you push back? He’ll say it again, sharper this time: “No one is asking this of you. So why are you acting like it’s the only way you’ll be worth something?”

6. Eventually, he admits why it bothers him so much.

One night, you’re too tired to argue, and he finally speaks without venom.

“I didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t stop. Not because anyone told me to, but because I thought if I just kept moving, I wouldn’t feel anything. If I was useful enough, maybe…it would matter that I existed.” He laughs, bitter and hollow. “It didn’t work.”

After a long moment, he adds, “Don’t be like me.”

7. When you finally rest, he’s more protective than he wants to admit.

You fall asleep with your head on your desk. He doesn’t wake you. He just sighs, pulls off his cloak, and drapes it over your shoulders. Then he sits beside you with his arms crossed, glaring at anyone who so much as glances your way.

“Sleep. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

8. Slowly, you learn to rest. Not just because he makes you, but because you want to.

You nap beside him while he reads. You share meals without thinking about the time. You let him be your excuse when someone asks too much of you. (“Sorry, Wanderer threatened to throw me in a lake if I skipped dinner.”)

And when you finally finish a project without burning yourself out, you find him leaning against the wall, arms folded, looking smug.

“See? Turns out you’re not hopeless after all.”

But the way he ruffles your hair on the way out tells a different story.

neuvillette

1. He notices. Of course he does.

You’ve been skipping meals. Staying at your desk too long. Reading until your eyes burn. He doesn’t ask what the work is—school? career? research?—because that isn’t the part that matters. What matters is the slump of your shoulders. The tremor in your hands. And the fact that you’re mortal.

“You do not have centuries,” he murmurs once, watching you scribble past sunset.

You don’t catch it. Or maybe you pretend not to.

2. He doesn’t confront you, not at first.

Neuvillette believes in autonomy, in understanding silence, in not overstepping. So at first, he simply adjusts his rhythm to yours: he brings water when you forget, opens the window when the air gets stale, and pauses by your shoulder and gently suggests, “Perhaps you could rest your eyes.”

You smile faintly and say, “Soon.” 

But “soon” becomes never. 

And when you fall asleep at your desk for the third night in a row, he says nothing. But the rain taps against the windowpane that night—just enough to mist the glass. 

3. The turning point is distinctly him.

One evening, you stir awake from a nap you hadn’t meant to take. Your blanket has been tucked around you neatly. A warm drink rests on your desk, still steaming. And beside it, in his careful, slanted handwriting, Please do not burn out for a future you haven’t been given yet.

You touch the letter. And only then do you realize how closely he’s been watching—not just your habits, but your mortality.

4. He begins setting an example for both of you.

Neuvillette has never been good at rest. But when he sees you trying to pull another all-nighter, he quietly closes his law books and says, “I’ve taken the liberty of canceling my meetings tomorrow. We will both be resting.”

You blink. “Both?"

“...Yes. I find myself in need of it as well.”

That’s when it hits you: he’s not just doing this for you. He’s learning how to stop drowning himself in duty because he wants to be around for you. 

You ask him why, once, and he tilts his head, rain-soft eyes meeting yours. “Because you are burning the candle at both ends, and I am the only one here who does not run out of wax.” 

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing. But you put your work down, and you sit beside him.

5. The rain falls when he thinks of what he cannot protect.

You collapse—not dramatically, not with a cry, just a quiet folding into yourself one night after working too long. He catches you, barely. The moment your weight leans into him, the first drop hits the roof. By the time he lays you on the couch and presses a hand to your brow, the rain is a steady, gentle sorrow.

“This is not a burden I asked you to bear,” he says softly.

But your fingers twitch for his; even unconscious, you reach for him. And the rain lightens.

6. Eventually, he says what he means.

You’re recovering, sleeping more, and eating better. You’ve made small changes, but you still feel the pressure to use your time well. One night, you apologize for being a “burden,” and that’s when he finally breaks his silence.

“No,” he says, with a quiet finality that makes the air still. “You are not a burden. You are a flame. You are days and decades and wonder compressed into something finite. And I—” He pauses. “I am someone who will remain long after your light fades. So allow me, while you are here, to help you burn brighter. Not faster.”

You stare at him. 

The rain does not fall.

And for once, you see the weight he carries: the guilt of longevity. The fear of outliving everything that matters.

7. He doesn’t stop being the Iudex, but for you, he makes space.

He invites you to sit in his office sometimes—not to work, but to rest, to read, to share the same air. He walks you home when you stay late and waits for you at the Court steps when you forget the time. 

And sometimes, he doesn’t say anything at all; he merely takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and closes his eyes like he’s memorizing your pulse because you will not last forever, but you are here now. And that, to him, is sacred.

kazuha

1. He notices your imbalance like a change in the air.

It’s not just how tired you look. It’s how often you say “just a bit more,” how your tea goes cold beside you, and how you haven’t watched a single sunset with him in over a week. He doesn’t say anything at first, but his concern is quiet and steady, lingering like mist.

2. He stays close, even when you say you’re fine.

You insist you’re just busy. He nods but keeps showing up anyway. Sometimes he brings dinner and eats with you on the floor while you work. Other times, he silently reorganizes your scattered papers just so you can find what you need more easily.

He doesn’t pry. He just makes sure you’re not alone in it.

3. He doesn’t romanticize your suffering.

Kazuha understands the weight of obligation, the desire to hold everything together by yourself. He’s been there. But when he sees you start skipping meals, sleeping in short bursts, and barely reacting when he enters the room, he puts his foot down.

“You’re running yourself into the ground. This isn’t sustainable, and it’s not fair to you.”

4. He uses everyday moments to pull you back.

One afternoon, he brings you out into the garden without giving you time to argue. “Ten minutes. Just breathe with me. You can go back to it after.”

The sun is warm. The breeze is soft. You don’t make it back inside for another hour. 

And somehow, everything hurts a little less.

5. When you finally break, he’s there.

It’s late. You’re shaking, frustrated, exhausted, ashamed. You whisper that you’re not doing enough—if you stop, everything will fall apart.

Kazuha wraps you in his arms, gentle but firm. He doesn’t hush you. He doesn’t offer platitudes. He simply breathes with you. 

“Even drifting leaves know where to land.” 

You don’t know if he means you or him. But either way, you believe it.

6. He opens up about his own past, gently.

“Before I left Inazuma, I thought I had to carry my grief alone. That if I let go, I’d forget him. Or fail him somehow.” He doesn’t name Tomo directly, but you know. “But clinging to pain isn’t loyalty. And pushing yourself until you break isn’t strength.”

7. He leaves you notes and poems as reminders.

Remember to eat. There’s onigiri in the basket.

I’m waiting for you by the docks at sunset. Just fifteen minutes, if you can spare them.

You’re doing enough.

When you spend too long buried in papers, he sits near the open window and hums old Inazuman tunes—melodies from a time before the storms. Sometimes he whistles songs you once told him you liked.

8. Over time, he helps you build slower rhythms.

He encourages small changes, like taking your work outside when the weather’s good, stepping away when you hit a wall, and letting yourself exist without being productive. And he keeps showing up. Not to rescue you, but to walk beside you while you figure it out.

“You don’t need to prove your worth by wearing yourself out. You’re enough, just as you are. Even when you rest.”

itto

1. At first, he thinks you’re just being “Super dedicated.” Then he catches you passing out on a pile of papers.

He pokes your cheek. No response. He pokes harder. Still nothing.

“…Uhhh. Okay. This is either really bad, or you’ve just entered some kind of secret meditative ninja state.”

(Spoiler: it’s really bad.)

2. His response? Chaos. Immediate, well-meaning chaos.

He bursts into your office the next day with five onigiri, a straw mat, and a gang member holding a shamisen for “vibe support.”

“Alright! Operation Save the Boss from the Evil Paper Demons is underway!”

You protest. He shushes you with a finger to your lips and zero personal space.

“You’ve been promoted. To Taking-a-Nap Officer. Now c’mon. Eyes closed. That’s an order.”

3. He treats resting like a team sport. And you’re on his team now.

Can’t sleep? He tells stories (bad ones).

Won’t eat? He challenges you to a dumpling-eating contest.

Still anxious? He tries to “Scare the stress away” by pretending to fight it in the corner.

“This one’s for that overdue report! HIIYAH!”

4. Eventually, he gets serious. As serious as Itto can get.

One night, after dragging you outside for fresh air and bug-catching, he glances sideways and says, “Hey… You don’t gotta be perfect all the time, y’know?”

You laugh it off. He doesn’t.

“Nah, I mean it. You think the Arataki Gang would follow me if I acted like I didn’t need breaks? Or fun? Or help?”

You stare. He shrugs.

“Being strong’s not about going nonstop. It’s about knowin’ when to stop, so you can keep goin’. That’s what makes a real boss.”

5. From then on, you get regular “Arataki Break Attacks.”

They’re loud, unexpected, and unavoidable. You’re elbow-deep in paperwork? BOOM. He bursts through the window with mochi and a picnic blanket. Stressed from a deadline? He brings the gang to do your chores (badly).

“We filed your papers alphabetically! …Sort of!”

You should be annoyed, but the laughter helps more than you admit.

6. One day, you finally break down, and he catches you.

You’re overwhelmed. Quietly crumbling. He finds you curled on your futon, staring at nothing. And for once, his presence isn’t loud.

He kneels. Offers you his forehead, gently. 

“I don’t know how to fix what’s hurtin’ you. But I’m here. For however long it takes.”

You grip his sleeve. He holds you like you’re gold.

“You’re not a job. You’re you. And I like that person just the way they are.”

7. He makes recovery feel like living.

Not just resting, not just surviving—he reminds you how to have fun again. Whether it’s beetle battles, fireworks, or dancing terribly at a festival, he’s there, arm slung around you, grin wide, heart full.

“Work’ll still be there tomorrow. But right now? You got an Arataki-brand life to live!”

And somehow, with him beside you, the world feels lighter.

aether

1. He notices your exhaustion before you ever speak it out loud.

Aether lives by reading people—he’s had to, traveling alone for so long. Others believe you when you say you’re fine, but Aether watches the small things: the too‑slow blinks, the silence you sit in like it’s a weight, the way you stare at your tasks as if they’re cliffs that keep growing higher. You rub your temples and forget to eat the food Paimon hands you.

Paimon huffs, “Seriously? That’s the third untouched meal today!”

Aether doesn’t comment. He just gravitates closer. He’s used to carrying burdens alone, but he refuses to watch someone else fall into that habit.

2. His concern is gentle but incredibly persistent.

Aether never nags. He simply appears with the things you need: sliced fruit next to your work, a blanket around your shoulders, tea steeped exactly the way you like it. Paimon keeps mysteriously dropping snacks onto your desk like a tiny, floating delivery service.

If you insist you’re “just tired,” he lifts his brows like he’s heard that excuse in every nation and never believed it once. He helps adjust your posture so your neck won’t hurt, refills your ink, hands you the thing you keep reaching for and missing because your vision’s going blurry.

3. When you snap, he doesn’t pull away.

You’re frustrated, overwhelmed, and maybe a little sharp with him.

He just steps closer, calm and steady. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Let’s take a break.”

There’s no judgment in his voice—just patience and a grounding gentleness firm enough that you can lean on it.

4. He worries when you push yourself too far.

You slump onto a bench after a long day, pale and trembling. He kneels instantly, hands hovering, not touching you until you give him a faint nod. He hadn’t realized until that moment how tightly he’d been orbiting you—how you’d become one of the anchors keeping him grounded in a world that still didn’t feel like home.

“You scared me,” he whispers. “Please don’t disappear.”

You’re confused; you weren’t going anywhere. But Aether has lost people; he knows what “here one moment, gone the next” feels like. And he’s terrified of feeling it again.

5. He opens up only when he thinks you can’t hear.

Paimon grumbles about how worried she was, but Aether silently moves your hair from your face with careful fingers and tucks his cloak around you. He stares at the glimmering stars above with a distant, melancholy expression—one you’ve seen when he thinks about Lumine.

That loneliness flickers across him like a shadow.

He whispers, thinking you’re asleep, “I don’t want you to burn yourself out chasing something alone like I did.”

5. He disrupts your routine in deceptively gentle ways.

Aether never shuts your work away. He instead rearranges reality around you. He opens windows before the air gets stuffy. Adjusts the lighting so your eyes don’t strain. Reorganizes your cluttered desk into something workable. Silently takes half your errands onto his own list.

When you ask why he’s treating you like you’re made of glass, he gives a small smile. “It’s not that you’re fragile. It’s that you don’t realize how much you’re carrying.”

6. When you wake, he finally lets his guard down.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he says softly. “Or push through everything by yourself.”

His golden eyes hold yours, warm as sunrise breaking through fog.

“I know what it feels like when it seems the world won’t slow down for you. When resting feels dangerous. When you think stopping means falling behind.” He reaches for your hand. “But you’re not alone anymore. Let me shoulder some of it, okay?”

With Aether, it’s never just words. For once, he resolves not to walk forward by himself.

tighnari

1. He diagnoses your burnout instantly.

He takes one look at your slumped posture, the way you squint at the daylight, and sighs like he’s witnessing a natural disaster.

“Come here,” he says, already closing the distance. He tilts your chin up with a gloved hand, eyes scanning your face. “Sluggish pupil response. Pale complexion, dark circles… Your circadian rhythm is committing unspeakable crimes.”

You try to laugh it off. He doesn’t.

“Honestly,” he mutters, “you look worse than a withering zone.”

His tone is dry enough to parch a forest, but his touch stays delicate as he checks your pulse.

2. His worry comes out as exasperation.

The more worried Tighnari gets, the more his snark ramps up. 

“Oh, wonderful. You’re dehydrated, sleep-deprived, and haven’t eaten a proper meal in… let me guess—since yesterday morning? Congratulations. You’ve achieved the disaster trifecta.”

When you snap that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, he gives you a look so flat it could level a hillside.

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

There’s no anger, just the protective frustration of someone who’s patched up far too many self‑neglecting rangers and refuses to let you join their ranks.

3. The moment he realizes talking won’t work, he shifts into caretaker mode.

A glass of water is pushed into your hands. Then a plate of food. Then a blanket. He fusses without admitting he’s fussing.

You ask if he’s babying you. He raises a brow.

“If I were babying you, I’d have hauled you to the nearest bed and put you into a mandatory nap.” He pauses. “…Don’t tempt me.”

4. Every comforting gesture comes disguised as “practical necessity.”

He’ll brew a herbal infusion “to reduce inflammation,” then sit beside you until you finish the entire cup. He’ll braid your hair out of your face “to prevent sensory interference.” If you lean back too quickly, his hand is already behind your chair. “To avoid concussion,” he claims.

Each act appears outwardly efficient and logical until you look closely enough to see the warmth threaded through every motion. Point it out, and he clears his throat, ears flicking in embarrassment. 

“It’s called preventative care. Don’t make it weird.” 

5. He keeps an eye on you even though he pretends he’s not.

Every time you stand up too fast? He’s there. Every time you yawn? A pointed stare. When you stumble over your words because you’re exhausted? His pen pauses mid‑stroke.

“You’re at 40% functionality,” he informs you one afternoon.

You groan. “Can you not quantify my suffering?”

“It helps me track how close you are to collapsing.”

“…Okay, maybe quantify a little.”

6. When you push yourself too hard, he stops being sarcastic and starts being firm.

The day you reach for more materials while visibly wobbling, Tighnari steps directly into your path, eyes narrowing. “Sit. Down.”

It isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command forged from years of keeping rangers alive in conditions they had no business surviving. And you obey, because it’s the first time he sounds genuinely upset.

“Please take care of yourself,” he murmurs, his expression full of hurt. “Exhaustion proves nothing except how far a person can push themselves before they break.”

7. Once you’re resting, his protectiveness becomes instinctive.

The second you fall asleep, Tighnari is in full guardian mode. He adjusts your pillow. He checks your temperature. He angles a lamp so it won’t shine in your eyes. Outside, he warns the rangers, “If anyone disturbs this room, I will assign you to fungal spore sampling duty for a month.”

Collei salutes. The other rangers flee.

He sits beside your bed with a botanical manual open, though he doesn’t turn a single page. His hand lightly brushes your blanket as if reassuring himself you’re still there. When your eyes finally flutter open, he looks relieved in a way he tries very hard to hide.

“You slept for six hours,” he says with a halfhearted scold. “…Good. You needed it.”

thoma

1. He notices the small changes first.

You’re not meeting his eyes as often. Your sentences get shorter. You keep saying “almost done” with a tired smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. And the first time you cancel dinner plans—something you usually look forward to—he knows for certain.

You’re drowning. Quietly.

So he knocks on your door that night, holding a thermos and a neat box of onigiri. “I wasn’t sure if you ate today,” he says gently. “Mind if I sit with you a while?”

2. He doesn’t tell you to stop. He reminds you it’s okay to slow down.

“I get it—sometimes you want to prove you can handle it all. I’ve been there,” he says as he sets things out, watching the tension in your shoulders with concern. “But just because you can carry something doesn’t mean you should do it alone.”

And for some reason, that hits harder than any admonishment could have.

3. He starts checking in more often but never pushes.

A warm drink appears on your desk during long afternoons. Laundry you forgot about ends up folded neatly on your chair. He even brings Taroumaru once, claiming “a surprise wellness check from the best boy in Inazuma.”

He never makes you feel guilty for being overwhelmed. He just keeps showing up, gentle and dependable.

4. When you finally crash, he’s by your side.

You fall asleep at your desk, shoulders tense, fingers still curled around your pen. When you stir awake, the lights are lower, a blanket is tucked around you, and Thoma’s coat is folded beneath your arm like a pillow. He’s sitting beside you, reading so he won’t disturb you. He looks up with relief.

“Hey,” he greets. “You scared me a little there.” 

He’s silent for a moment. 

“Next time…let me help before it gets to this point, yeah?”

5. When you say you didn’t want to burden him, that he already does so much, something in his expression shifts.

He lets out a breath—half fond, half aching—and shakes his head. “That’s what people like us do, isn’t it? We take care of everyone else and forget we deserve care too.”

He takes your hand, his thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles.

“I’m here because I want to be. Not because you need rescuing. Because you matter. Even when you’re not accomplishing anything—especially then.”

6. From then on, he makes “doing nothing” feel like something special.

A slow meal on the engawa as the breeze rustles the wind chimes. Shared silence under the stars. An understanding glance when you sigh and confess, “I still feel behind.”

He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky, and replies, “Behind what? The world isn’t going anywhere. But if you burn yourself out… it’ll lose something no one can replace.”

7. And when you finally begin to let go of the pressure—just a little—he’s there to catch you.

Not with grand gestures. But with rice balls, soft words, warm hands, and a steady heart. Because Thoma doesn’t need you to be perfect. He just wants you to stay.

diluc

1. He notices what you stop doing. 

Diluc pays attention to patterns. You used to greet him in passing, pause to appreciate small things, hum while you worked—little marks of ease that brightened your days. When those habits fade, he notices instantly.

Years of managing people—and years of losing them—have made him acutely aware of what strain looks like. He doesn’t question you about it; he knows too well how inquiries can feel like pressure rather than concern.

2. Instead of confronting you, he begins adjusting the world around you.

Not the type to lecture or hover, Diluc is a man of action, efficiency, and solutions. Tedious errands you’d been meaning to get to are mysteriously handled by someone else. Deadlines shift. A warm drink appears near your workspace when you’re too focused to notice your own needs. 

It all feels effortless, almost coincidental. That’s intentional. Diluc would rather lighten your burden without making you self‑conscious about it.

3. He addresses your exhaustion indirectly. 

One evening, he finds you staring at a page without seeing it. The dim light flickers across your face and catches something in your eyes that stirs an old ache in him. He approaches, delicately closes the book beneath your hand, and says, “Walk with me.”

He leads you outside and through the vineyard, where the lanterns glow warm against the early night and the air carries the scent of earth and ripening fruit. Diluc never fills the silence. He lets it steady you, each unhurried step loosening your thoughts.

4. He grounds you through consistency.

He joins you for meals whenever schedules align. Some afternoons he stops by simply to share a few minutes of stillness. Other times, he works beside you turning, the silence into something companionable instead of isolating.

He never frames these moments as interventions. They are companionship: something he knows can keep a person from unraveling. You find yourself looking forward to the routine with him that seems to slow the world around you until it becomes manageable again.

5. He corrects your self‑criticism with a conviction that’s difficult to refute. 

Whenever you insist you’re behind or not doing enough, Diluc listens without interrupting. When he finally responds, his voice is certain and sincere in a way that leaves little room for doubt.

“You carry more than you realize—and far more than anyone should expect of one person.” His gaze meets yours in earnest. “You’re capable, dependable, and far kinder than the world gives you reason to be. You don’t need to exhaust yourself to prove any of that.”

6. When you push too far, he meets you.

The night you nearly miss dinner, he appears at your doorway, hair loosened from the day, ungloved hands resting calmly at his sides.

“You’re late,” he says. “The food won’t stay warm.” 

You begin to apologize, but he shakes his head.

“Eat first. The rest can wait.”

He sits across from you, arms crossed, pretending he’s not watching to ensure you eat.

7. When you finally admit how overwhelmed you are, he listens in a way that feels disarming.

You tell him it feels like everything will fall apart if you slow down, and his gaze softens in a way few ever see.

“Work can always be resumed,” he tells you. “You, however…cannot be replaced.”

Beneath his words lies the conviction of one who has already lost too much to relentless duty.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anyone,” you finally admit. 

“You won’t,” he assures you firmly. “You do not owe this world exhaustion to prove your worth. You give it your presence, and that is more than enough.” 

8. He becomes your safeguard against your own pressure. 

Diluc does not smother or coddle. He simply remains a steady presence at your side as someone who cares deeply, and has learned—through mistakes he cannot undo—how important it is to catch a person long before they fall. Rather than save you from burning out, he prevents the flame from consuming you in the first place. 

Diluc will never say the words outright, but it’s clear in the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re focused elsewhere: your well‑being is something he has quietly folded into his responsibilities, right alongside the winery and the city he once vowed to protect. And though he would never claim it aloud, supporting you matters to him every bit as much as any duty he’s ever carried.

childe

1. He’s deceptively perceptive when it comes to people he cares about.

Growing up with siblings means he’s witnessed every flavor of stubborn exhaustion, from his older brother pulling all-nighters to Teucer trying to avoid bedtime. So he picks up your signs quickly: the way you rub your eyes, the slight tremor in your hands, and the fact that you’re running purely on determination.

Everyone else buys the excuse that you’re “only a little tired.” Childe, on the other hand, narrows his eyes. “My little siblings lie better than that, and one of them is seven.”

2. He calls you out directly, but there’s softness under the bite.

Childe isn’t one for subtle warnings: “You can’t keep this up,” he says, crossing his arms. “You look like you fought a dragon bare-handed, and not in a way I’d brag about.”

You glare at him, and he only steps closer, voice dropping. 

“You’re wearing yourself thin, comrade. I don’t like watching that happen.” It’s the most roundabout way he can say he’s worried.

3. If reminding you to rest doesn’t work, he resorts to mischief.

He steals the pen out of your hand mid-sentence. He lifts your notes above your reach (he’s annoyingly tall). He sits on your stack of textbooks like a smug cat. 

If you protest, he grins. “Duel me for them.” 

He’s not joking. He drops into a fighting stance in the middle of your room. You point out you’re exhausted.

“That’s why it’ll be fun.” He is insufferable. He is also trying to make you rest.

4. When your energy gives out, his instinct takes over.

You wobble, and he reacts instantly, catching you with one arm behind your back, the other guiding your head to his chest. His whole body shifts as if to angle himself between you and the world.

“Hey—stay with me.” His voice is low, tight. Not his usual playful tone.

You try to say you’re alright.

“Don’t. Don’t even finish that sentence.” His jaw is clenched, heartbeat wild against your cheek.

He scoops you up without hesitation, expression lethal. Anyone who so much as glances your way wrong on the walk back gets the kind of glare that promises consequences.

5. He cleans up your workspace like he’s securing a battlefield.

Once you’re resting, he surveys the room with a soldier’s eye and quietly puts everything in order—papers stacked, candles extinguished, hazards removed.

“You don’t have to take on the whole world by yourself,” he mutters under his breath.

Then, he sits beside your bed and brushes your forehead with the back of his hand, checking for fever. “I can take hits,” he says softly. “Doesn’t mean I enjoy watching someone else take them.”

6. Starting the next morning, he becomes more deliberate.

He brings breakfast and sits beside you until you eat. He walks you home whenever he can. He insists on taking some of your workload: “I’m good at carrying things. Work, bags, stubborn people who don’t know how to rest.”

When you apologize for worrying him, he only smirks and taps your forehead. 

“Just don’t do it again. But if you start slipping, I’ll be there before you fall.”

7. His “rest plan” is… uniquely Childe.

He makes you a schedule. A battle-style schedule, color-coded into:

Mandatory Rest Periods

Nutrition Breaks (with treats—nonnegotiable)

Light Exercise

Hydration Checks (“Don’t test me. I have water and I have aim.”)

Supervised Work Sessions

He hands it to you with pride. “This is strategic efficiency. Trust me—General Childe knows what he’s doing.”

You point out he’s not actually a general.

“Don’t ruin this for me.”

8. And eventually, the truth slips out.

You find him watching you work, unusually quiet.

“You push yourself so hard it hurts to watch,” he says finally. “You work like you’re trying to earn your right to exist. But you’re not something that needs to prove its worth. You’re…” His voice falters. “…someone I care about. A lot.”

He clears his throat violently, as if honesty betrayed him.

“If you collapse again, I’m staying with you until you’re better. And that’s not a threat. That’s a promise.”

zhongli 

1. He recognizes the signs long before you do.

The slight tremble in your fingers. The missed step on uneven cobblestone. The way your gaze sometimes flickers past him, unfocused, as if your thoughts are pulling you in too many directions at once.

He doesn’t intrude, but he sees. And in quieter moments, he remembers countless mortals who pushed themselves too far. So few ever stopped before the cost came due.

2. He doesn’t confront; he provides.

“You seem fatigued,” he remarks one afternoon over tea.

You smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He stirs his cup, thoughtfully. “Even the strongest stone yields under constant strain.”

You brush it off with a laugh, and he doesn’t push. But the next time he invites you out, he phrases it differently: “Join me. Not for discussion, not for business. Simply to rest.” With him, invitations are never obligations.

3. He begins to anchor you in subtle ways.

He sends herbal blends meant for clarity and calm. Bowls of warm food appear with the simple explanation: “I worried you might skip a meal.” He asks you to accompany him on walks through Liyue Harbor’s quiet streets touched by sunset.

And when you protest, saying, “I should be working,” he meets your gaze with unwavering calm.

“And I should be elsewhere,” he says softly. “Yet I am here. And I would prefer your company over solitude.”

4. When exhaustion finally overtakes you, it wounds him more than it surprises him.

He finds you slumped over your desk, ink smudged across your hand. For a long moment, he only stands there, a quiet sorrow flickering across features that have seen ages pass. Then, he gathers you carefully, almost reverently, and carries you to the couch. He drapes his coat over you, its warmth and faint incense scent settling around you like a shield, and he remains by your side, eyes tracing the moonlight on your face.

“Morax would have named this stubbornness,” he murmurs. “But I believe… you simply fear stopping.”

5. When you finally ask why your wellbeing matters so deeply to him, he doesn’t hesitate.

“I have lived through the rise and fall of gods,” he says. “I have watched whole histories fade into legend, and legends fade into silence.” He turns toward you. “You are not a fleeting dynasty, meant only to be remembered or forgotten. You are someone I hope remains, not for legacy, but simply for yourself.”

6. He teaches you how to rest respectfully, without making you feel weak.

He walks you through gardens at dusk, where lanterns sway and cicadas sing. He reads aloud when your head is too heavy for thought. He speaks of rest not as luxury but as a form of wisdom in itself.

“Clarity is born from stillness, not exhaustion,” he reminds you, offering warm tea. “Even the sun must set to rise again. You, too, must allow yourself that cycle.”

And somehow, from him, it makes sense. With him, rest feels safe. It feels like something you are allowed to have.

7. And afterward—when you do pause, when you finally let yourself breathe—he stays.

Simply to exist beside you with quiet devotion. Because to him, you are not a task, nor a responsibility, nor a fleeting mortal life to be pitied.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

You giggled, admiring her scrunched-up face. “She’s a bit wrinkly, isn’t she?”

Despite your daughter’s small stature, her appetite was no joke, although Yuuta was sure all babies were like that. It must be boring, having nothing else to do other than sleeping and eating.

Unbeknownst to Toru, her parents made sure she was protected from curses to the highest degree. It wasn’t particularly hard since Yuuta was in line to be the leader of the Gojo clan. When you came back home from giving birth, he arranged for a few guards to patrol the wing where you resided. Of course, since he was unofficially the strongest sorcerer, no one dared to attack his wife and child.

You also put in your efforts, using your cursed energy to enchant talismans to ward off cursed spirits. You stuck them everywhere, to the point that Panda thought the appearance of the bottom of your baby’s cot being plastered with every talisman known to mankind was very macabre, especially when compared to the pastel pink walls and decorations of the nursery.

Toru suddenly sneezed, causing you to laugh. “Even her sneezes are too cute.”

Your husband gazed at her softly, gently brushing her sparse hair before letting his finger rest in her palm. As if by instinct, Toru grasped it with her pudgy hand, five little fingers wrapped around his.

“Sometimes, I think I made a mistake in naming her after Gojo-sensei,” he quietly confessed. “I want Toru to live happily for the longest time.”

“And she will. After all, she has you as her father,” you smiled, holding your hand to his cheek. The scar across his forehead had healed over, a constant reminder of what it took to defeat Sukuna. “I promise.”

You then sealed it in the form of a gentle kiss that was somehow still as time-stopping as your first kiss all those years ago when you and Yuuta were still teenage sorcerers, just trying to survive.

five months

“Her dinner should be on the counter, and the instructions for her milk is right next to the steriliser,” your husband told the trio. “Her bedtime is in an hour and a half. Toru-chan instantly falls asleep after a lullaby, but don’t sing one of those cursed clan ones. She hates those.”

He turned to you, briefly admiring how beautiful you looked in the black dress he bought for you. No one would have guessed that you had given birth just five months ago. “I think that’s all.”

You laughed softly. “Babe, you forgot one other thing.”

Yuuta tilted his head, a bit confused. “Which one?”

“The baby.”

Sure enough, your husband was still cradling your daughter in his arms. Her curious dark blue eyes were fixed on Yuuta’s tie. Nine months in your womb, and somehow, Toru came out looking like a female version of Yuuta, from her inky black hair to her round blue eyes. Due to her lack of hair, she had hair, it just grew very slowly, people often mistook her for a boy, which led your husband to buy all sorts of ribbons, hats and hairbands. Right now, he had dressed her in a white onesie with a matching wool cap with bunny ears.

“Shake. Takana.”

“She’s a princess!” Yuuta refuted. You weren’t sure how he figured that out from just two words. He held Toru out for Toge to see. “Look at how cute she is. How could you ever think she’s a boy?”

“It’s an honest mistake, bean sprout.” Maki teased him, taking Toru out of his hands. She scanned the baby as if wondering what size polearm suited her. “How much can this little tyke do anyways? Can she sprint yet?”

“She’s only five months old!” Yuuta was getting more anxious about leaving Toru behind with them. Sure, he trusted them with his life, but when it came to childcare, he rightfully had his doubts. “The most she can do is sit up and roll over.”

“Like the dogs in obedience school?” Panda, who was perched on Maki’s shoulder, unhelpfully chimed in. “I watched a video about it the other day, so you can definitely trust us Yuuta.”

The cursed corpse’s dog comment made your husband lose all faith in them. “Maybe Fushiguro-kun isn’t busy.”

three years

“What’s with your husband?” Maki asked you when Yuuta was checking his phone over and over again during their meeting earlier.

“It’s Toru-chan’s first day at preschool today.”

“She’s old enough already? I could have sworn she was still learning how to walk.”

“Time just flies by when you’re raising kids,” you said, remembering how Yuuta cried when Toru called him Daddy for the first time. Now, she is going to preschool and making friends. You called out to your husband, “Toru’s otou-chan, the school would have called us if anything went wrong.”

“No, it’s just that- earlier, all the other little girls clung to their dads, but Toru-chan,” he suddenly squatted down, hugging his knees. His broad shoulders made him look like a white ball. “She just walked inside the classroom. She didn’t even look back. Like a boss.”

Toge offered his condolences, clapping Yuuta’s shoulder. “Takana.”

“She’s probably just excited to make new friends,” you comforted him. “I was the same way. I remember bringing one of my stuffed dolls as a friend on my first day.”

“Speaking of dolls,” Maki looked around. “Have any of you seen Panda anywhere?”

“Panda-kun? He was at our house this morning,” you answered.

Yuuta nodded along before saying, “he was playing with Toru-chan before…”

The four of you froze, realising where the cursed corpse could be right now.

“You don’t think…”

You and your husband rushed to your car. Yuuta basically stepped on the gas pedal to reach Toru’s preschool faster, where you stumbled into Panda’s election as the mascot of the Sunshine class.

six years

Luckily, little Toru’s hair started growing out, and at six years old, she had long, silky black locks that were currently tied up into pigtails by you. She was buzzing with energy as she impatiently waited for Yuuta to finish tying her laces. Her elementary school was having a sports day today, and Toru was specially chosen to represent her class in the 100 metre race.

“Daddy, hurry up!”

“I’m almost done.” Yuuta made sure her laces were double-knotted. He didn’t want a repeat of Toru falling flat on her face again, just because she was too shy to ask a teacher to tie her laces back. “Toru-chan, are you ready?”

Your daughter grinned as bright as the sun. “I think I can get first place!”

“First?” He had no doubt she was capable of beating the rest, but she was also too impatient. “You don’t have to get first. Whatever you get, you can always run back to me.”

Yuuta checked her over, brushing the dust off her gym uniform. Her bangs were tucked under her pink sweatband.

“Okay, let’s practice first. When the teacher says go, that’s when you run.” Yuuta pointed out the red track fields to Toru, where her teacher waved to them. “On my mark. Three, two, one-”

“GO!” Toru excitedly screeched, about to run off when her father stopped her.

“No! Not like that!” He knew she would do that. “You run when you hear go. Let’s try it again. Three, two, one-”

“GO!” 

Yuuta’s advice practically bounced off Toru’s ears as she excitedly sprinted to her friends, eager to join in. He, exasperated, watched as his little princess started chatting with them.

“Oh, what am I going to do with that little thing?”

sixteen years

“Dad, you’re impossible!”

“Toru-chan!”

You barely even got to look at her before Toru, now a second-year at Tokyo Jujutsu High School, sprinted to her room and slammed the shoji door shut. Your husband looked like he wanted to run after her, but he decided not to, taking a seat across from you where you were sorting through some documents.

“What happened?” you asked him while pouring green tea into a mug before offering it to him.

Yuuta gratefully took the mug, thanking you. “I may… have interfered with her mission again.”

“Yuuta-”

“I know.” He groaned. “It’s just-”

“I understand.” It was hard seeing your daughter as a sorceress, even though it was certainly safer than it used to be when you and your husband were her age. “Even so, no one’s going to take her seriously if you keep coming to her rescue. She’s not a Semi-Grade 1 for nothing.”

Yuuta kept quiet. It was easier back when Toru was starting out last year, since first years weren’t permitted to do solo missions, a rule you established just after your daughter was born.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said, standing up from the table, “but you have to promise you’re not going to mess with her assignments again.”

Yuuta looked up, smiling at you. “I promise. I don’t like it when our princess is mad at me.”

“She also doesn’t like being mad at you,” you told him before leaving the room. You made your way to Toru’s room and knocked on the door.

“Toru, it’s Mom.”

“Go away!” yelled Toru, her voice muffled.

“Baby, I just want to talk.”

The room was silent for a moment before you heard the sound of shuffling feet. Your daughter slid the shoji door open, letting you inside before sliding it shut. The pastel pink walls were gone in favour of the light cream paint Toru had chosen last year. Posters of popular idol groups plastered the walls, though her stuffed animals were still lined up on her bed.

Toru flopped down on her bed, inviting you to sit down next to her. “Mom, can’t you tell Dad to back off? People think I’m a joke.”

“Honey, they don’t think that-”

“Yes, they do!” She interrupted you. “I’m the only one with a babysitter, while Uncle Megumi’s son gets to do solo missions and he’s fourteen!”

You were sure that Hinata wasn’t allowed to do that, but then again, Megumi was primarily raised by Gojo so it would make sense that the latter’s unorthodox teaching methods were subconsciously passed on to him. 

“Dad just doesn’t believe in me,” said Toru while hugging a pink rabbit doll to her chest.

“Don’t say that,” you patted her head, making her look up to you. “It’s just that, you’re his little girl.”

Toru whispered, “I’m not so little anymore.”

“His mind knows that,” you held a hand over the left side of your side, “but his heart doesn’t know it. Even the idea of you being in danger hurts him so much that it causes him to act irrationally, so please understand that this isn’t easy for him.”

Toru’s dark blue eyes, which reminded you so much of your husband’s, softened. “Fine, but only if he stops hovering so much!”

You made your husband compromise by having him wait outside the high school with you, where Toru had her assignment. Your vivacious daughter made Yuuta promise that he would only come in if she sent a distress signal.

Twenty minutes passed by, and Toru came out with curse blood trickling down her face, and all of the hostages were rescued.

She had a wide smile while holding up a peace sign. “I exorcised the cursed spirit!”

You celebrated her success by having a barbeque party with all of your old schoolmates. However, the biggest surprise came a few weeks later when you and your family came home to a teenage boy waiting in front of your house with a bouquet of flowers. 

You recognised him as one of the hostages that Toru had rescued. He was a tall and handsome young man who blushed at the sight of her. You laughed lightly, realising why he was here, while Yuuta just squinted at him.

“H-Hajimemashite, my name is S-Sakura Takeda,” he stammered before pushing the bouquet towards Toru. “Thank you for rescuing my friends and I!”

Although she was shocked by his gesture, your daughter gratefully accepted the flowers, her cheeks as flushed as his, much to your husband’s dismay. 

Takeda nervously bowed deeply again to you and Yuuta, especially when your husband stared him down with unblinking eyes, as if the boy was Getou Suguru reincarnated.

“O-once again, thank you for saving us!”

He was about to leave when suddenly-

“Sakura-san!” Toru called out. “My favourite flowers are cosmoses, so just get me those next time!”

Yuuta’s jaw dropped while you pushed him into the house, not wanting him to intrude on their moment.

“Anata, I need to be there!” Your husband tried to leave, but you blocked his path. “Why would that boy-”

“Obviously, he likes her!” Your answer only added to his misery. “Our daughter is more popular than you think. He’s hardly the first boy who likes her.”

“Wait, there’s more?”

“Yeah. Why do you think Hinata-kun’s always training?” Only Yuuta wouldn’t notice Megumi’s son’s feelings for his own daughter.

“I thought he was like Megumi!”

“The boy wants to be strong enough to protect Toru-chan.” Granted, you only knew about it because Megumi’s wife told you during tea time.

“W-wait a second!” Yuuta was panicking harder than when he had to go up against Sukuna. “I’m not ready for this! Toru-chan’s still a baby!”

“You got engaged when you were ten!”

“That was a completely different situation!”

twenty-two years

Toru hurriedly unlocked the door to her boyfriend’s apartment while balancing a birthday cake in one hand and keys in the other.

“Takeda, sorry I’m late! I got dispatched on an urgent assignment-” She fell silent when she saw his mother instead. She immediately bowed down to her, but the older woman ignored her, instead choosing to walk up to her son.

“It’s bad enough that you invited her, but did you really have to give her a key?” She confronted him.

Takeda, uncomfortable, replied, “Mother, I invited Toru since it’s my birthday. Can’t I celebrate with my girlfriend?”

His mother glared pointedly at Toru, not bothering to hide her displeasure. Although the couple have been dating for a few years now, his mother never approved of her, always hoping that Takeda would end up being with a normal girl.

“Don’t just stand there!” She snapped, shoving a rice paddle into the sorceress’s hands. “I know that you’re some sort of heiress, but in our family, women do the housework here.”

Toru went to work with the rice bowls, even when she felt small under her gaze.

A few minutes later, they were having dinner. Takeda sat with his mother on one side while Toru sat alone on the other side. The atmosphere was very awkward with no one saying much.

“Um, Mrs Sakura, Takeda-kun always raves about how good of a cook you are!” Toru spoke up. “Like the mackerel. It’s so delicious that I can eat three portions in one sitting!”

“Our family values portion control. We’re not wealthy like your family, and can just eat whatever we want all the time,” Mrs Sakura coldly replied. She put her chopsticks down on the table. “Okkotsu-san, do your parents know you frequent a bachelor’s apartment?”

“Mother, why do you have to phrase it like that?” Takeda tried to defend her. “I told you I’m not dating Toru just for the fun of it. We’re hoping to get married-”

“Stop it before I get angry.” She sharply interrupted. “You’re my pride and joy, and right now, my pride is damaged.”

Okkotsu Toru, who had exorcised countless spirits, saved multiple lives, had never felt so worthless in her life.

“Is your family really that religious? Is that why they are always so self-righteous?” Toru angrily ranted after they were done with dinner. Takeda was following her, holding an umbrella over her head as it rained. With tears in her eyes, she turned around to face him. “I come from a family of sorcerers. I can’t change that, but why does she always make me feel like I’m stupid for not being ashamed of it?”

“So what if I’m not good at housework? Are you any good at cooking and cleaning?”

Takeda admitted, “I’m bad at those things.”

Toru furiously tried to wipe her tears away.

“I hate feeling like this. I feel like a foolish jester just dancing around for a queen who’s never going to like me. Do you even have any idea what that feels like?” Her words became barbed-wired, even though they were for her first love. The first boy who ever gave her flowers. “You can either be a good son or a good husband. You have to choose. If you can’t even do that, don’t even think of asking me to marry you.”

“Toru, I can’t just- who would be able to pick one over the other?” Toru was the first and only girl Takeda ever loved, but how can he go against his mother? “It’s an impossible choice-”

“My dad did it,” She cut him off. “He chose my mom over the clan.”

When she was eighteen, Toru found out the real reason why she was an only child. You nearly died giving birth to her, and Yuuta promised never to have a second child. He never wanted to put you through that pain ever again.

The elders of the Gojo clan weren’t happy to hear that. They tried to urge him to try for a son, a viable heir. When that didn’t work, they tried to convince Yuuta to take a few concubines, and that was when he put his foot down. Either they stop with their nonsense, or he would leave them, dissolving the Gojo clan.

They should have known that Okkotsu Yuuta would always choose you.

“I’m only telling you this once,” Toru took a deep breath over her sobs. “I will not marry your mother’s son.”

twenty-four years

Toru checked her phone again while her parents sat beside her. They had been waiting for over an hour for the Sakura family to discuss her and Takeda’s upcoming wedding.

“His father had a late shift,” she tried to excuse her future father-in-law, although she knew that he had gone back home hours ago, “and the traffic in Tokyo is really bad at this time.”

“Your mom and I are busy too.” Your husband even had an assignment in Okinawa last night, and just went back home this morning. Yet, you managed to show up on time. “They should have told us if they were going to be late.”

Toru bit her lip. She muttered to herself, sending a text to her fiance. “Where is he?”

Fortunately, Takeda entered the private room soon after, with his parents in tow. He apologised to his future in-laws for the wait. You pretended not to notice his parents not bowing back to you and Yuuta.

When the food was laid out on the table, your heart ached at the sight of your daughter serving food for everyone else first, leaving only scraps for herself. You knew that she learned this from you, back when Yuuta wasn’t the clan head yet, and you often had to put your own head down.

While Takeda’s father boasted about his son’s achievements, even though he knew that Toru earned more than his son, you gave your bowl of seafood broth to your daughter, and quietly took her bowl of scraps for yourself.

“Look at how your daughter served you,” Mrs Sakura criticised, not realising that you had switched the bowls. “Maybe it’s because she’s been raised in a wealthy clan, but that’s not how our family does it. How is she going to manage our household when she can’t even ladle soup?”

You held your tongue at the blatant disrespect of your daughter. When you were young, you would have exploded right then and there, but you matured since then, and knew that her future was at stake.

Yuuta fidgeted with his sleeve. “Well, regarding the household, as a working woman, it would be hard for Toru-”

“That’s why I asked her to stop being a sorcerer after the marriage.” Mrs Sakura innocently revealed, as if she had done nothing wrong. She turned to your daughter. “Didn’t you tell them?”

“Mother, I told you-”

“Was I asking you?” Mrs Sakura sighed. “My son is a lawyer. He earns more than enough to support her. Unlike some people, he didn’t have any connections.”

“Our daughter is a sorcerer because of her own merit.”

You wanted to say that. You hated seeing her like this.

“Ah, you haven’t served us the miso soup yet.” Mr Sakura thrusted an empty bowl towards Toru. “Give me some.”

Mrs Sakura added two more bowls. “You might as well get started.”

You have never seen Toru scramble for anything, much less for the opportunity to ladle soup.

“Usually, only daughters are good at this sort of thing, but Toru’s different.” Mrs Sakura’s sweet tone didn’t fool you. Why was she acting like this? “It looks like I have my work cut out for me. She needs to learn to be a proper woman before I can introduce her to the extended family.”

What exactly did she mean by a proper woman? Toru loved her son faithfully without any doubts. Why wasn’t she happy that her son was loved in such a way? You barely noticed Yuuta sending a look towards Takeda before you stood up.

“Let me.” You said to Toru, taking the ladle away from her.

“Okaa-san-”

“Just sit down.” You told her, taking over.

Mrs Sakura took the chance. “Your mother does everything for you so you don’t know anything. Isn’t that right, Toru?”

Your daughter meekly nodded, not daring to look up. She didn’t want to know how you and Yuuta looked.

“I couldn’t teach her,” you interrupted, bringing the attention of the whole table towards you. “She was too precious, and too dear.”

You looked Mrs Sakura straight in the eye for the first time. “So, I chose not to teach her.”

You finished ladling the miso soup into the first bowl. It was chock full of tofu and seaweed, and instead of handing it towards Mr Sakura, you served it to your daughter.

In the car, after you were finally done with the horrendous lunch, you finally let everything go.

“She always acts like the boss at home, so why couldn’t she say anything around them?” You fumed.

“Why did you do that?” Your husband asked you. “You couldn’t stand it?”

“Our Toru has parents,” you dabbed your napkin at your eyes. “She has a family!”

“So you wanted that woman to know that?”

You turned to Yuuta. “You sure held yourself back. I thought you were going to unleash Rika and demand that they call off the engagement!”

“I wanted to, countless times. I was holding back so much,” he sighed. Just like you, he couldn’t stand seeing his daughter acting so small. “But Toru-chan loves him. If I force her, it would just hurt her. It’s not because she’s any less than him.”

You sobbed. You didn’t want to know what Toru’s future would be like in that family. “I can endure anything for her, but seeing her like that… it just destroys me.”

The second time you met Mrs Sakura was after the dress fitting. You were sitting across from her in the cafe while Toru was waiting for Takeda outside. It had been a few weeks since the lunch, and you were worried that your outburst had caused Toru some backlash.

“I know that Toru isn’t very gentle or soft-spoken,” you started saying. There were some times you were convinced that she was like Gojo, even though she had never known him. “But when she loves someone, she loves deeply-”

“Mrs Okkotsu, may I say something to you?” She rudely cut you off. “You see, I always prefer being frank. I admit that your daughter and my son do love each other, but honestly, I’m just not fond of her.”

“What?”

“I really tried, but I just don’t like her.” Mrs Sakura confessed. “If she wasn’t a shaman, maybe I would have accepted, but you see, our family has been blessed for generations. How could I let her in our family when she brings bad fortune? What kind of mother would I be if I let my son make the wrong choice?”

She grasped your hands, not caring that you were shaking and that your eyes were brimming with tears. It was as if she enjoyed unnerving you like this.

“You know that our children aren’t a right match for each other, so Mrs Okkotsu, let’s work together to call off the wedding.” She smiled to herself before sipping her tea. “I’ve been waiting a long time to say that. Now, it feels like a boulder has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“Do you know where you’re putting that boulder?” You finally said. You had decided. You weren’t going to let your princess get married into that family. “On your son’s heart.”

When you got back home, your daughter confronted you for your silent behaviour.

“Takeda-kun was about to lose his mind in there.”

“So let him.” You said.

“What?”

“Are you really that fond of him? It’s not like he passed the bar exam.”

“Then, what about me?” Toru asked. “Do you think I’m a fool for loving him? Mom, you think I’m less than him, don’t you?”

You vehemently refuted her claim. “No! I’d never think that!”

“Then why do you never say anything to his mother?” She yelled.

“So that she won’t be cold to you!” You yelled back. “I held myself back so that she won’t take it out on you! Why on earth would you be less than him? That’s just a load of crap!”

After a second of silence, Toru asked you, “Why? Did she say something to you?”

You winced. You couldn’t tell her that woman was determined to scorn her forever. “How can I act on my temper when you’re joining their family?”

Toru sighed before saying out loud, “Just go ahead and lose your temper!”

Your heart hurts worse than ever. You did everything you could to protect her from curses, but you forgot that heartbreak was inevitable. “Toru, please, get your act together. I can’t decide for you. Just know that even a small wound on your heart turns into a deep scar for your father and me.”

A week later, Toru called to inform you that she called off the wedding. While you and Yuuta were elated at the fact that she didn’t have to suffer with in-laws like that, your hearts broke at the end of your daughter’s first love story.

twenty-five years

Toru yawned as the sun was rising. Her dad has asked her for her assistance in a mission. Of course, she knew he was using it as an excuse to spend time with her. Even at his age, a Grade 1 curse was nothing to him, but it was nice to work with him sometimes.

Her dad walked over to her, carrying a tray with two hot chocolate drinks. It was something they always did as a little girl. Drinking hot chocolate together. There wasn’t any particular reason why.

Toru watched as the sky became brighter and the city started waking up. 

“How are you doing?” Yuuta asked her.

Toru knew what he was really asking her. “It’s been a year, Dad. I’m fine.”

He sighed. “I’m your father. Do you think I don’t know when my little girl is hurting?”

“I’m not so little anymore.”

“In my heart, you still are.” He answered. “One of the few things I’ve learned over the years is that you never really stop raising your children. I knew you would break off the engagement. Even if you don’t end up married, it’s fine. You can always come back to us.”

With the sun shining behind him, Toru started seeing him in a different light. Every time she walked the tightrope, he was always below her, always letting her know that he would catch her.

“Why would you say I wouldn’t get married?” She started whining. “I’ll get married someday. My future husband will be a super handsome guy.”

Yuuta chuckled. “Okay, my bad.”

He had no idea that a month later, Toru and Fushiguro Hinata would reconnect over childhood memories and start dating a few weeks later.

twenty-seven years

Toru anxiously tapped her high-heeled foot as she and Yuuta waited outside the hall. Her makeup was immaculate and her wedding dress was a brilliant white with a lace train trailing after her.

“Dad, you absolutely cannot cry, got it?” She frantically told him. “You know what? It would be better if I just don’t look at you through the whole ceremony. This makeup took almost three hours! I can’t ruin it-”

“Toru-chan?”

“Nani? W-what is it?” The normally confident Toru was nervous as hell. In a few minutes, she will be marrying Fushiguro Hinata.

“You can do this, right?” Yuuta sincerely asked her. “Because if you can’t, just run back to us. Don’t worry about the clans or anything like that. Just run!”

For a moment, Toru froze. Her dad told her that all the time, and he always meant it, even now. 

She immediately burst into tears, bawling loudly. “Otou-chan, you’re so annoying!”

“If Hinata ever messes up, just leave him-”

“Stop it!” Toru sobbed. “Why would you make me cry now!”

You had the shock of your life when you saw your daughter crying while walking down the aisle. You smacked your husband’s shoulder when he sat down after giving her away to Hinata.

Yuuta really tried to keep his cool. He had promised Toru after all, but when they were pronounced husband and wife, your husband couldn't hold his tears back anymore.

His princess had become someone’s queen now, and yet, Toru would forever remain his little girl in his heart.

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

(y/n) and Yuuta were a pair known to be cutthroat and fearless when sent on an assignment together.  Nothing would secure a quick exorcism quite like those two’s names being written in.  Everything about their abilities stacked them up to be a formidable opponent.  With (y/n’s) strong innate technique and Yuuta’s ability to copy, not to mention they were both well versed with a katana, they made exorcizing curses look easy.  And their expertise working as a team would’ve made them the perfect example for the younger sorcerers to learn a thing or two about synchronicity.

The only problem? Unless there was a curse involved, the two of them couldn’t be in the same room together and function properly.

Why? Well, the incessant flirting might’ve had something to do with it.

Gojo had tried to have the pair stop in during a lesson with his three students who had some difficulty applying their skills in a team setting.  All three were talented in their own ways, but for some reason, when put together, they flop around like fish out of water.  Being the astute teacher he was, he asked his previous students to pop by for a quick lesson on the importance of teamwork.

It did not go as planned.

Nobara was slumped over her desk, her chin lazily propped up by her hand, and not even a flicker of interest on her face.  Megumi wore a similar expression, already tired of Gojo’s antics for the day, knowing what was coming.  He held a lot of respect for Okkotsu Yuuta- but if (y/n) was with him? All hope of learning something flew out the window.

Itadori was the only one who actually had a scrap of excitement to him.  It wasn’t often that Yuuta was around, and he adored (y/n), so it was a treat to be talked to by two of his favorite upperclassmen.  Unfortunately, he had been too new to Jujutsu Tech to know what he was really in for.

“It’s really important to get to know you partner on a personal level,” 

That was the fateful line that really derailed the lesson- and only thirty seconds in made it a new record for how long it took them to get off track.

“So long as you know you can trust them with your very life, everything else will fall right into place” (y/n) continued, shooting Yuuta a sweet smile as she reached out to squeeze his arm affectionately.  Yuuta mirrors the smile back at her.

Megumi rolls his eyes, slumping back a little further in his seat as the inevitable took place.

“Well, it helps when your partner’s already achieved perfection” He tells her, making her brighten as she swivels towards him, already forgetting the students in front of her and the purpose of her being there.

“Awe, Yuuta you softie, you’re the one that’s a Special Grade!” She muses back at him, and that’s about the time that Nobara and Yuji realize what’s happening.

Nobara’s leaned off her hand, more entertained by the back and forth her presenters had than she previously thought.  Their body language had her love radar flying off the charts.  From (y/n’s) hand squeezed around Yuuta’s bicep, to the way he craned his neck just the slightest bit to better meet her gaze.  At this point, neither one of them were facing the classroom of three, already far too enamored with the presence of the other.

Itadori isn’t nearly as subtle.  He’s gaping, jaw nearly hitting his desk as he watches the two completely forget where they were as they flirt away with abandon.  His eyes darted between the both of them, eager to catch every little detail.

Much unlike Megumi, who was hiding his nauseated expression behind his hand.  For some time he’d shut his eyes to avoid the embarrassing display, but it was like a train wreck.  He couldn’t help but peek through his fingers to witness the pair blushing and fawning over each other.

“You’d be Special Grade too if they measured cuteness instead of cursed energy” Was the ridiculous line that Yuuta pulled that finally had Gojo intervening.

Not that the Six Eyes user wasn’t equally engaged in his very own personal rom-com playing out before him, but Megumi’s face had reached the shade of pale that he knew meant nothing good, and if he didn’t step in, this train wreck would face an explosion, too.

“Alright guys!” Gojo clapped his hands loudly, startling the pair making heart eyes at each other.  It did the trick to tear their attention away from each other, both of them looking at their old mentor curiously.  “Great pep talk.  You two sure know how to… teamwork…” 

Everyone gave Gojo a confused look at his awkward way of speaking, but to his luck no one calls him out on it.

“But I’m taking my favorite students outside for lessons today! And I think we’re wrapped up here aren’t we? Yes indeed, so, good seeing you two!” 

He gives them no time to properly say goodbye to him or his students before the two are ushered out the door.  (y/n) briefly gets in a wave- which only Itadori returns- and just like that the door is shut behind them both.

With furrowed brows and a quiet laugh she turns to Yuuta.

“Geez, he’s still got some things to learn about teaching, huh?” She teases without a shred of self reflection.

“Seriously.  It was like he was in his own little world” Yuuta replied.

They were supposed to go meet up with Maki and Toge as soon as their little lesson was over so that the three of them could talk about a surprise party for Panda that was just a week away- but sure enough the two stayed put and got comfortable right in the hallway.  

In a matter of seconds Yuuta’s leaning against the wall, (y/n) hovering close to him so her every hushed giggle could be heard after everything he said.  She gets lost in the mirth in his eyes when he speaks to her, murmuring sweet things about how pretty of a teacher she’d be.

“Are you saying you have a thing for teachers?” She teases between girlish strings of giggles.

“Sweetheart, if I was lucky enough to have you as my teacher I never would have learned anything” He says, reducing her to shameless giggles again.  

It’s dorky, and ridiculously cheesy, but there was something about Yuuta’s charm and the way he looked at her that had her knees weak and her heart a melted puddle.

“Well aren’t you lucky then?” 

“Was even luckier that year you went with the miniskirt for your uniform- what happened to that skirt, anyways?” He asks, and when his eyes trail her figure up and down, her cheeks begin to burn beyond the point of no return.

“Yuuta!” Is all she can manage to squeak out before the lump in her throat betrays her.  Just as she reaches out and swats a hand against his chest, their little bubble is bursted.  (Again)

“Idiots!” The familiar bark of Maki as she stormed down the hall, having finally found them after searching the campus for the last five minutes.  “Do you two mind getting your claws out of each other so we can talk about cake?” 

It would’ve made them laugh, hearing Maki get pissed off over cake of all things, but the storm in her eyes was noticeable even from down the hall, and this wasn’t their… first offense… and had dealt with her fury too many times in the past.  So swiftly and wordlessly, their focus shifted.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Most efforts to split the pair up were futile.  Occasionally, a situation came along where someone was able to wiggle between the two and pry them apart, but they were few and far between.

Very few.  Very far between.

Usually Nobara only dragged Yuji and Megumi around with her when she felt the urge for a shopping spree.  But when Maki piped up and said she needed new sneakers, then Toge was in for lunch with his friends, and soon that meant Yuuta wanted to go to hang out with his friends too.

Of course if Yuuta was going, (y/n) was going.  And if (y/n) was going, those two weren’t going to get in all that much quality time with the others.

“They’re going to get lost” Nobara muttered to Maki, both girls casting glances back at the pair they were gossiping about.

As the group wandered the shopping district, they took turns pairing off in order to take up less space on the sidewalk.  For the most part, it was just a considerate thing to do.  

However, Yuuta and (y/n) were slowly trailing so far behind the group they were almost lost among the surrounding pedestrians.  Completely clueless to how far ahead their friends were, too wrapped up in whatever they were giggling about.

“I hope we lose them” Maki gossips back with a smirk curling on her lips.

Unfortunately, they don’t.

Somehow no one gets separated when they settle in for lunch.  Not so surprisingly, (y/n) and Yuuta sidle into a corner of the booth and completely miss the game of rock paper scissors that Toge loses when he has to sit directly next to them.

Yuuta’s arm is thrown over the back of the booth around (y/n’s) shoulders not two seconds into settling into the seat.  While Nobara dives into a plan of action for what stores she wants to hit in which order, (y/n) not so subtly throws her menu up in front of her face, as if it was enough to hide the whispers and giggles that her and Yuuta share when he puts his up as well.

Even Megumi’s evil eye isn’t enough to draw them out of their exchange- even though so far they’d been wrapped up in each other all day.  Except for when (y/n) accidentally stepped on Yuji’s shoe and apologized, they’d hardly separated from one another.  Physically, and conversationally.

The others tried to talk over them, but it was nearly impossible to not hear the relentless flirts.

“Are you ordering a drink? I think just one with lunch might be fun” (y/n) suggested, pursing her lips at the selection of cocktails.

“I definitely will if you will, you’re a flirt when you drink” Yuuta smirked.

The way Maki shoves her finger towards her mouth in mock disgust is not subtle, the entire table erupts in laughter… but the giggles coming from (y/n) and Yuuta’s corner are of a different nature.  It’s obvious they hadn’t noticed the maneuver at all.

It got worse when the drinks came and so did the feeding each other.  Toge tried to put what distance he could between himself and Yuuta, but with Itadori on his other side, there wasn’t much extra space left for an escape.

Once the bill is squared away and the group gets going on Nobara’s plan of attack for the shopping portion, Yuuta and (y/n) nearly get left behind in the restaurant.

He still has her crowded into the corner of their booth, despite it being completely empty.  It’s only when she reaches out to fix a crease in the collar of his shirt that she realizes their table is empty, and for a brief second, she’s brought back to reality.

“Yuuta?” She hums, peeking over his shoulder, only to catch their friends leaving the restaurant.

“Yes…?” He practically purrs back at her, and normally her swooning heart would’ve taken control again and the two of them would sit in this huge booth until the place closes, but right now she feels too panicked seeing their friends leave to properly enjoy his shift in tone.

With a small pat against his shoulder before she points over it, Yuuta gives in and glances behind him.

Just as it had done to her, reality crashes down on him and his face falls when he sees their group had just left, and were currently walking down the sidewalk without them.

He’s scrambling out of the booth with a mumbled curse under his breath, before reaching his hand out to help her quickly slide out as well.  Her hand stays in his as they jog to catch up with their quick moving friends.  

“Does it feel like they’re trying to ditch us?” (y/n) whines as the group appears to pick up pace a few feet in front of them.

“They are!” Yuuta groans, glaring when Toge looks over his shoulder and catches eyes with the pair, only to speed up ahead of the rest of the group to lose them faster.  “Why would they do that?” 

(y/n) huffs before shrugging.

“I have no idea,” She mumbles, brows furrowed with confusion.  “Maybe Nobara found a sale somewhere?” 

“Oh,” Yuuta nods along in understanding.  “Yeah, probably” 

Dumbly, they both nod along and accept the theory as truth.  But why else would all of their friends leave them behind at the restaurant? Neither one of them could come up with any ideas.

Eventually they’d catch up with their friends a few stores down, but not after some good old fashioned hand swinging and dilly dallying.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

It’s comical, how blind these two idiots could be.  In fact, Toge was nearly laughing his ass off from across the room as he watched the pair.  Much to Panda’s grievance, who was trying not to look at the non-couple getting comfortable in each other’s personal space.

Yuuta had a thing for crowding (y/n)- that was never a secret.  If it was, it would have been the worst kept secret of all time, seeing as any chance he got, he made sure he was the only thing in her direct line of sight.  So if she wanted to be a wallflower at this little- but noisy- end of the year party, that meant Yuuta was towering over her, all but caging her in with his arms.

It wasn’t necessarily caging if it was only one arm he had up against the wall in the space next to her head, it gave her the perfect escape if she was looking for one.  However, with the bright smile she wore as she gazed up at him, he had every reason to believe she didn’t exactly want him to put any more space between them.

“I think our friends might miss us” 

It didn’t even matter that she was trying to hide the curl in her lips behind that red plastic cup, her eyes were wide pools of truth, and Yuuta could read them in an instant.

He barely casts a glance across the room, not wanting to tear his eyes away from her for a second longer than necessary.  It’s a quick sweep, sizing up the small crowd in one motion before every ounce of his attention is on her again.  It sends a shiver down her spine, has her straightening against the wall just the slightest.  It’s easy for Yuuta to notice when all of his senses are tuned in on her.  He smirks.

“I’m not so sure,” He chuckles.  

He hadn’t needed to double check in order to know that their friends are doing everything in their power not to look in their direction right now.  That’s why he hadn’t picked the darkest corner of the room to cozy up to her in- wherever the two of them were together, the rest were bound to flock in the opposite direction.  Yuuta might have found this to be a peculiar coincidence if he’d spent any time thinking about it- but his mind was a little too foggy at the moment to put the pieces together.

He’d blame that fogginess on the couple of drinks he’d sipped throughout the night.  Even though he could feel the way his heart beat erratically in his chest when he stood close to her like this.

“I don’t think they’d notice if we left” 

Does he know what he’s implying when he says this? It can’t be said for sure.  Does he understand that when (y/n’s) eyes grow rounder and a little squeak of a laugh escapes through her breath that she’s taken his words to mean something else entirely? Yes… yes he does.

His cheeks burn but (y/n’s) nervous laughter turns sweet and she starts to lower her cup from her face.  Yuuta desperately fights the urge to tug on the collar of his jacket- why did he even wear this damn jacket tonight?- as her gaze softens on him.  It has his heart all aflutter, being gazed at so fondly by her eyes.  He thinks nothing could ever amount to this, no finger could ever be cradled so tightly by the coil that is his heart as hers.  And wrapped around it he was, because as soon as she tilted forward, he found himself also closing the small space between them.

Yuuta would like to say he wasn’t pursing his lips and closing his eyes, but it’s not until (y/n’s) speaking that his eyes are flying open and he’s trying to wear as neutral an expression as possible- because what? No he wasn’t about to kiss his best friend, haha! Definitely not…

“Should we leave, then?” A smile curls on her lips with her question, and with a nod of his head, she’s wrapping her hand around his wrist and tugging him out of the room.

The lump in Yuuta’s throat is too thick to swallow, but he does manage a small laugh at how quickly she rushes them into the large corridor of the Technical College.  They’d already established that their friends wouldn’t notice their disappearance, but he goes along with her anyway, because that’s what he did best.

After a large swig of his drink, he finds the confidence to slide his wrist out of her hold just enough to snatch her hand.  It’s a quick but gentle move, and he’s successful in getting her to halt in her tracks and turn all of her attention back towards him.

“I’m starting to think I’m your favorite” The corner of his lips curl into a suggestive smirk, but she just as quickly tilts her head at him and returns the favor.

“Am I that superficial?  Playing favorites with my friends?” She teases, deliberately giving him a non-answer just to mess with him.

“Is that what we are?” 

His flirtations get ahead of him a bit, the question slipping out in a murmur with ease before he even realizes the position he’s putting himself in by asking such a thing.  It’s evident that he doesn’t mean to say it, at least not like that, from the way his playful smirk drops and there’s suddenly something very serious in his eyes.

He may not have meant to say that, but now that he has, he awaits her response with baited breath and concentrated eyes, flickering over her every feature to find some tell that will give him his relief before her words do.

(y/n’s) lips part, not moving at first, but they slowly stretch into a surprised little smile.  He’s not sure if that means good news yet, but it does ease the clench on his heart just a little bit.

Everything she does seems to be too slow to him now.  She’s silent for too long, and she holds her neutral expression for a surprising amount of time seeing as the drink in her hand was her third one of the night.  The only thing that seems to be Yuuta’s immediate saving grace is the pinkish color warming up her cheeks as her eyes remain on his.

“You say that like you know something I don’t,” She whispers, so softly her voice is barely audible, but Yuuta’s fantastic at reading lips.  “So…” She trails off, her eyes unwavering from his, too lost in the depths of the deep blue to articulate her words all that carefully.  “What are we then, Yuuta?” 

He sighs like he’s finally come up for air after being chained at the bottom of the ocean for all his life.  As if her question has provided a lift to an invisible weight on his shoulders that she otherwise never would have known existed.  Her features soften before he even replies- due to the way his shoulders drop.  Not to mention she doesn’t think he’s ever looked at her with as much sincerity as he does now.  It nearly knocks the wind out of her, how heavy his gaze feels now.

“Anything you want,” He tells her through another sigh, and a small shake of his head has his bangs falling astray while his eyes flicker across her features.  “Whatever you say” 

She blinks at him, lips parting before sealing shut again as she swallows the hot lump forming in her throat.

“That’s a lot of pressure” She murmurs, at a loss of what to say, at a loss of what to think.  The tips of her fingers felt like they were buzzing, and the little hairs on her arms were starting to stand up.  Was this still the game? Where they flirt and nothing happens? No… this doesn’t seem the same.

And he was still looking at her with those eyes.

“Sorry,” Yuuta breathes out, not sounding the least bit apologetic.  The trail of his eyes moving down to her lips contained no discretion.  “(y/n)?” 

“Yeah?” She mumbles back.

“You haven’t said anything” He reminds her, but it’s useless.

His eyes are still locked on her lips, waiting for them to move again.

“I… don’t know what to say” 

She’s so nervous, which is a new sensation around Yuuta.  Sure, she’s used to the butterflies, the blushing and the giggling, none of that was new.  But the weight of real nerves in her stomach has her brows pinching together as she looks up at him, hoping that he’ll have just the right thing to say to break the tension between them that has her suffocating.

She’d never held her tongue around him before.  She’d never been afraid to say the wrong thing.  But now it’s the only thing she can think about.  If she says the wrong thing now, their friendship- or whatever this is- could be ruined.  And she just couldn’t take responsibility for that.

Yuuta’s eyes are on hers again, and she tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it burns.  His hand reaches out, gently touching her shoulder as if to give her some comfort, before it slides around the side of her neck.  His palm is warm, and if it weren’t for their close proximity, she would’ve been comforted by this.  Instead she finds herself holding her breath.

“I need to know what you’re thinking, sweetheart” He tells her, the tips of his fingers pressing ever so slightly into the nape of her neck.

Her lips form into a pout, and her vision betrays her as it lowers from his eyes, mirroring him in the way her eyes lock onto his lips, parted and waiting.  She wills herself to look up again and get a grip, but Yuuta’s reaction time is faster, and those lips are hovering over hers before she even sees him move.  His hand is firm around the back of her neck, and his will is strong as he waits right there, a mere few centimeters away, sharing the same air as he waits for some sort of confirmation from her.

Unlike before, he knows exactly what he’s doing.  He just has to wait.

Wide eyes locked onto his, for just a second, as if she needed to double check it really was him and she wasn’t lost in a vivid daydream.  Once she confirms Okkotsu Yuuta really is standing there patiently awaiting her decision.

And it feels so right to kiss him.  It feels right to have her hands around the collar of his jacket, it feels right to slant her lips over his and kiss him fast.  Maybe it’s a little too rough for a first kiss- but the pace of it all feels right.  They’re out breath all too quickly but neither of them make the time to slow down to catch it.

She’s ruined the shape of his collar, it’s crumpled and bent and curling on one side because of the iron grip she holds it in.  This goes unnoticed by Yuuta as he’s too busy wrapping his arms around the small of her back so he can lift her off the ground just enough to move them both out of the middle of the hall.  (y/n) doesn’t bother to look where he’s moving, she gets the idea when her back is against the wall and her feet are on the floor again.  They’re hardly any more secluded, anyone who could walk into the corridor would see them just as easily, but neither one of them really cares about that little flaw.

Yuuta kisses her the same way he wields his katana.  Like it comes completely natural to him.  Like his life depends on it.  And judging from the way he gasps for air between each one, she could assume he had waited all his life for this moment.  When she’s parted from a kiss for just a second longer than his liking, his hand is returning to the nape of her neck to draw her back into him so his lips could be reunited with hers again.  She can’t help but giggle a little bit into this kiss, but it doesn’t hinder her ability to kiss him back in the slightest.

For as heightened as their senses were trained to be as sorcerers, neither one of them had a single one tuned into anything but the other.  So it goes completely missed when Inumaki Toge wanders into the hall.  He quickly forgot that he was headed for the bathroom when he catches his friends just down the hall, in plain sight, making out.  With a dropped jaw he expects them to break it up and freak out about getting caught, but the Cursed Speech user quickly realizes that they had no idea he was even there.

It only takes a few seconds for Toge’s shock to wear off enough that he realizes it’s awkward to keep standing there watching them- even though a part of him was wondering if Yuuta’s wandering hand on her hip was actually about to grab her butt or if he was too much of a coward to make that move- so he hurries back into the party.

Toge may have had a limited vocabulary, but it didn’t take much for him to signal to his friends that he’d just witnessed something exciting.  With wide eyes and rapidly clapping his hands he got everyone’s attention at once.  After that it’s a mess of hand gestures.  The group had gotten pretty good at charades, so they quickly realize he’s talking about Yuuta and (y/n).  Upon figuring this out, they seem to notice the pair's absence.

This is quickly explained with Toge’s rough sign language.  If crude kissy faces with his hands counted as signing.  Either way, it did the trick.

“No way!” Itadori shrieks, somewhere crossed between excitement and alarm.

Panda burst out into full belly laughter.

Megumi and Maki seemed frustrated more than anything.  They realized quicker than the others that if those two finally figured their shit out, they were bound to become ten times more annoying now.

The entire group is rushing to the door then, pushing and shoving to get a glance for themselves.  Toge wasn’t necessarily a liar, but it was no secret that he loved drama.

Yuuta and (y/n), hand in hand and walking back towards the party, both startle when all of their friends suddenly crowd them at the door.  It’s obvious by the looks on their faces what they thought they were walking into, and their pair shared a quick nervous glance towards one another, each trying to assess what to say first.

(Admittedly, their heads were a little hazy, so their decision making skills weren’t at their sharpest) 

“You finally hook up and you don’t even have the decency to let us see!?” Yuji’s the first to react, earning a quick kick to his heel from Megumi.

(y/n’s) free hand tries to cover her face, Yuuta tries to duck into his collar enough to hide his burning cheeks- only to finally realize it’s barely standing upright due to (y/n) roughing it up.

“Good.  Now you can keep all your lovey dovey stuff to yourselves” Maki warns, pointing an accusatory finger between the both of them.  They’re quick to nod in agreement, too embarrassed to argue or ask questions.  However, she does catch eyes with (y/n) and gives her a discreet wink before she turns and walks back into the room, seemingly finished with her work.

Toge claps for them excitedly, Panda makes an awkward comment, and things seem to smooth over on their own after that.

Later on, when the party is back in full swing, and (y/n) and Yuuta slip out undetected once more, they make sure to get behind a door that closes.  

And locks.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

series:

various!aoba johsai x f!reader - fight!

aoba johsai vbc x f!reader - shitty bf

aoba johsai vbc x f!reader - confess and run

aoba johsai vbc x f!reader - first date

aoba johsai vbc x f!reader - unpopular

ts!aoba johsai x f!reader - then vs. now

solo:

[1] [2]

oikawa tōru x f!reader – the man who can’t be moved

oikawa tōru x f!reader – yearner

oikawa tōru x f!reader – whisper

oikawa tōru x f!reader – take care

oikawa tōru x f!reader – clap

oikawa tōru x f!reader – finesse

oikawa tōru x f!reader – bribery

oikawa tōru x f!reader – fanclub

oikawa tōru x f!reader – aliens

oikawa tōru x f!reader – parcel

oikawa tōru x f!reader – sanctuary

ts!oikawa tōru x f!reader – the moon

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader – boyfriend senses

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader – holding hands

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader – strong

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader – CATastrophe

iwaizumi hajime x telepath!f!reader – suspicious

ts!iwaizumi hajime x f!reader – protein

matsukawa issei x f!reader – podcast

kyōtani kentarō x f!reader – good job!

kyōtani kentarō x f!reader – tame

kunimi akira x f!reader – butchered

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･SAKURA HARUKA °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You and Sakura were walking home after hanging out with Suo and Nirei. Since the two of you shared the same route, it was only natural that he’d make sure you got home safely—he always did, even if he pretended it was just convenience.

You were that kind of friend.

Dark humor clung to you like a second skin, and everyone accepted it as just you. They never thought much of it—because you never wanted them to. It wasn’t meant to worry anyone. It was how you survived. How you kept things light enough to breathe.

Sakura hated it at first.

Those jokes left something sour on his tongue, a quiet discomfort he couldn’t name. But when he realized you laughed it off, waved it away like it was nothing—just humor, just exaggeration—he forced himself to accept it. Over time, he learned to tolerate it.

Because, somehow… he sensed it.

That it was your way of holding yourself together. Your way of asking for help without actually asking.

Which was why tonight felt wrong.

You were normal.

Painfully so.

You reacted normally, judged things normally, carried conversations like anyone else would. No jokes. No deflection. No darkness dressed up as humor. Just… you, stripped of all the things that usually made you you.

And Sakura felt it deep in his chest, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

The streets were dim, quiet except for the sound of your footsteps. After a while, Sakura finally spoke.

“Are you okay?”

You stopped.

Your eyes met his—and they were honest. Too honest. Clear, sincere, genuine.

You swallowed hard.

You hated this side of him. The gentle way he looked at you, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. The way his gaze pressed against your chest and made it feel heavy, tight—like lying to him would fracture something inside you instantly.

Because this was Sakura.

Your eyes softened, and he didn’t miss it.

“I am,” you said.

And you meant it.

After all—you were okay.

Sakura opened his mouth again, then closed it. His brows knit together, troubled, like he wanted to ask more, say more—but didn’t know how. Not with his past. Not with his fears.

You let out a small chuckle at the sight, and he glanced at you, confused.

'Right.. Sakura had always been this pure.'

And you didn't have any plans on hiding anything to this boy.

“Sakura,” you called.

He tilted his head slightly, attentive.

“I’ve given up.”

The words fell quietly between you.

And just like that, the light in his eyes vanished.

“What…?”

--

・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦・HAJIME UMEMIYA・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦・

You worked part-time at a flower shop, and Hajime was one of your most loyal customers.

At first, his presence was purely accidental. The store he usually bought fertilizer from didn’t have what he needed, so he wandered in here instead—by chance, by convenience. You just happened to be on shift that day.

And maybe… that was when it started.

He noticed the way your eyes lingered on a lone white peony, fingers brushing the rim of its pot like you were afraid it might disappear if you looked away too long.

There was something achingly quiet in your gaze—something lonely.

After that, he kept coming back.

Sometimes to buy supplies. Sometimes just to check on things. And sometimes, thanks to his help—and a few of his members—petty thugs who caused trouble around the shop were dealt with before they could leave you sweeping broken pots off the floor.

You were a plant maniac, just like him.

You preferred growing flowers over vegetables, though you were knowledgeable in both. That shared love became common ground, and before either of you noticed, conversation came easily. Naturally.

But Hajime knew.

Behind the bright smiles you wore so effortlessly, there was something painful you kept tucked away.

Something unresolved. Something heavy.

He recognized that look.

Hell—he’d worn it himself before.

So when you told him one day that you wanted to give him something, he was... genuinely excited.

That was, until he followed you to the back of the shop.

There, sitting in quiet pride, was a pot of white peonies—fully bloomed, healthy, beautiful.

“Eh—are you sure you’re giving this to me?” he asked, confusion clear in his voice.

They were too beautiful to part with.

You nodded without hesitation.

“Yeah. You see, I’ve got too many things to do now,” you said lightly, almost fondly.

“I don’t think I can take care of this little one properly anymore.”

You spoke as if it were a child you were entrusting to someone else, and Hajime couldn’t help but smile at how gentle you were.

But then he noticed it.

The way your eyes lingered on the peony.

The way you looked at it like you were saying goodbye.

Hajime had always been good at knowing.

“Are you... leaving?” he asked slowly.

His tone stayed warm, his smile soft—but there was seriousness underneath it.

Your eyes finally met his.

You looked genuinely startled.

After all, the two of you barely knew each other. Yet somehow, the bond you shared was enough to cross that line.

'Ah... there’s no point lying to this man.'

You gave him a carefree smile.

And Hajime felt his chest grow unbearably heavy.

“Maybe...?” you mumbled, as if unsure. Your smile didn’t waver.

You sounded cheerful—as if the conversation wasn’t tearing something open.

But you both knew what he was really asking.

“You don’t sound sure,” Hajime said gently. “Maybe you should think about it more.”

You hummed, as though actually considering it.

“Right... I should think about it more.”

Then you looked at him. “But, Hajime..”

Something in his eyes trembled.

“I’ve already given up.”

And he swore—

he felt his world begin to shatter, slowly and silently, like glass cracking under pressure it could no longer withstand.

--

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟSUO HAYATO୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

Suo met you by accident.

He, Sakura, and Nirei were patrolling when they found a group of thugs already sprawled on the ground—groaning, unconscious, defeated. And in the middle of it all was you.

Alert. Defensive. Eyes sharp, body coiled like you were waiting for the next hit.

Just like Sakura had been at first.

Maybe that was why the three of them got invested so quickly. And maybe that was why Suo watched you the closest.

Somehow, the four of you fell into a routine. Hanging out during breaks. Sharing ice cream by convenience stores. Wandering aimlessly when there was nothing urgent to do. Moments that felt ordinary—but safe.

They knew you were forgetful. You forgot schedules, meeting times, sometimes even names. Small things. You always laughed it off, swore it wasn’t that bad.

Suo never laughed.

Because he noticed the smaller things.

The way your eyes dulled when you stared at the sky. How you grew quiet when everything was finally peaceful. How your smile softened when you walked a step behind them, watching Nirei and Sakura bicker like children.

He knew you were carrying something heavy—something even he couldn’t reach.

So he did what he always did.

He waited.

He trusted time.

That day, the four of you were at a nearby park, sitting on the grass beneath blooming cherry trees. Spring had painted everything gentle.

Kotoha had packed lunches. You brought snacks. Suo brought tea.

It was calm—until it wasn’t.

Nirei and Sakura started bickering again, voices rising until Nirei accidentally knocked the mayonnaise from his chicken straight onto Sakura’s face.

Silence.

Then—

Sakura grabbed the nearest thing beside him.

Suo’s cup.

Nirei shrieked.

“Hold up! Damn it, Nirei!” Sakura stood up fast—but carefully placed the cup down before sprinting after him.

You laughed.

A quiet, genuine chuckle.

Suo didn’t miss it.

“They’re like kids,” you said

He smiled. “You’re not wrong.”

Then—without looking— you handed him a clean cloth.

“You hate it when people leave fingerprints on your cup, right?”

His smile faltered.

Just for a second.

He stared at the cloth, then at you.

Looking back... today, you were strange.

Too calm.

None of your usual sensitivity, none of your restlessness.

“How unusual,” Suo said lightly, slipping the cloth into his hand.

“For you to remember things like this.”

You blinked, confused—then your lips curved faintly, like you understood what he meant.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You usually forget things that matter.”

You didn’t deny it, he was correct.

Instead, you leaned back against the grass, eyes drifting to the sky.

“I guess people remember,” you murmured, “when they’re trying to put things in order.”

That—

That was when Suo knew.

His chest tightened, something cold settling deep beneath the calm.

Because people didn’t do that unless they were preparing.

“...That’s funny,” Suo said, voice gentle, dangerous in its steadiness.

“People only talk like that when they’ve already decided something"

Your eyes finally met his. That calm, soft peaceful smile you gave him as your answer,

It was enough for his smile to drop completely.

You threw a quick glance to the five boys she had just been talking to, curious, but she just shook her head. “Not them, if you managed to fluster Sakura, trust me, you’d know.”

Sakura was the two toned kid at the table, and his head snapped up when he heard his name. He glanced from Kotoha to you, mouth parting as if to say something, before he sank into his seat. She snorted, and you turned back to her.

“It’s kind of funny to watch.”

You just shook your head at her, “The first and second years remind me of little brothers.”

“I doubt they see you as a big sister though,” She smirked, refilling your mug with warm coffee, “Have you met any of the third years?”

You blew on the coffee lightly, trying to think back to all the names and faces of the Furin kids, “I met Umemiya?”

At the name of her foster-brother her smile turned into a glower, though you knew there was no real heat behind it. “Everyone’s met Umemiya whether they wanted to or not.”

You laughed at her expression, “To be fair I’ve only been in town for a few months, I imagine the third years are fairly busy.”

Your move to Makochi had been the talk of the town for far too long. Not many people moved here, Sakura had come before you and had shaken things up. Then you had moved to live with your grandparents— your dad had to go over seas for work and didn’t want to disrupt your life, so his parents offered to house you. You loved your grandparents so you agreed, and the rest was history.

You hadn’t known much about the town before moving, so it was safe to say the first time you saw Bofurin kids you were absolutely terrified. Some drunk guy from a town over had, somehow, staggered over turf lines and had been bothering you. Before he got too handsy some kid wearing headphones came flying out of nowhere knocking the drunk guy out. Not knowing what to do with a young, panicking girl he dragged you to Kotoha’s. That’s where your friendship with her had began, and your understanding of how the town worked.

In all honesty it was still kind of weird to you, but you rolled with it.

The sound of the bell above the door jingled, and in walked the man of the conversation, another guy with him. You watched as Umemiya did his usual, diving with enthusiasm towards Kotoha for a hug, and you laughed as she side stepped him. It was funny to watch no matter how many times it happened.

“What are you doing here?” Kotoha’s tone was annoyed, but you watched as she prepared two more mugs regardless.

“Aw, can’t I just come visit my baby sister?” Umemiya coo’ed at her, smiling so wide you wondered how his face didn’t hurt, “It’s so cold outside and we wanted something to warm us up! What better to do that than your food and drinks!”

She groaned, and you snickered into your own coffee as he took the barstool next to you, accepting his mug. His attention shifted, and he glanced at you, smiling with a warm greeting.

“How’s Makochi treating you? Good, I hope!”

“It’s been good,” You watched as the other guy walked over to the other kids, talking to them in a quiet voice, though he looked mildly annoyed. “My grandparents picked a good place to live, weird, but good.”

You learned quickly saying things like that would not offend Umemiya, cause he just laughed, loud and boisterous. “I’m glad you think so!” He took a sip from his coffee, sputtering as the hot liquid burnt his tongue.

“You dumbass,” The unnamed guy had come back, arms crossed as he stared at Umemiya who was still coughing, “You came for a hot cup of coffee, don’t be surprised when it’s hot.”

Umemiya just laughed, and Kotoha scolded him for making a mess while pushing towels at him. The other guy pinched his nose, before he turned towards you. “I’m sorry about him, he can be… a lot. I’m Hiragi, we haven’t gotten a chance to meet. You’re the Edo granddaughter, right?”

You nodded, introducing yourself, albeit a tad awkwardly. It had been hard to feel out of place when you met Umemiya, but meeting the others still made you feel slightly out of place. Thankfully he seemed to sense your slight discomfort, so he shot you a soft smile, before turning his attention back to Umemiya, who had finished cleaning up the mess of spilled coffee.

He sighed, "I'm actually surprised we beat the others here. Tsubakino normally beats you here to see Kotoha." The next part was muttered under his breath, "Sometimes it makes me wonder whose little sister she really is."

Umemiya just laughed– and you were starting to think that was a default response of his. "He's on his way! Momose wanted to stop by the paint shop before they got here and Tsubaki went with him."

You could only assume those two were other third years you hadn't met you, watching the two quietly while sipping your own drink. Whatever conversation the first years were having grew a bit louder for a moment, before dying back down. You glanced their way curiously, nearly missing the bell chiming once more.

"There they are!"

You swiveled in your seat again, leaning back to peer between the seated Umemiya and standing Hiragi. You saw the shorter one first– admittedly at first you thought he was a child until you saw the Furin jackets. But your attention was quickly grabbed by the person standing behind him.

He– she?– he, your brain supplied context clues from the conversation that had happened seconds ago. Pretty didn't even begin to cover how you'd describe him. He was tall, and his hair was long, perfectly straight, and cascading down his back in a way you'd only thought possible in magazines. His makeup looked flawless, the red lipstick stood out and looked natural all at once.

You hadn't realized you were tipping the stool back, eyes wide as you stared at him until–

You yelped as the chair tipped too far, falling backwards onto the floor with a loud thud, the stool upturned and lying awkwardly under your legs. It stung some– you could feel the tender skin on your backside that would probably bruise in the oncoming days– but it was truly your pride that was injured the most.

All eyes were on you now, various levels of concern. Kotoha was leaning over the counter, eyes wide and her mouth parted as she called out your name, "Are you alright?"

Before you could utter some type of response or reason for falling, like you had the cause of the commotion was kneeling in front of you, eyes soft and concerned as he helped you sit up.

"That was quite the fall– you alright there?"

Oh gods he was even prettier up close.

"Y-Yeah," You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry and your mouth parched, "I- you- uh," You'd never fumbled over yourself like this before, and it was absolutely mortifying to be stammering like a scared child.

He tilted his head, confusion and concern clear in his eyes as he helped you stand– his hands were warm where they were pressed against your bicep, one shifting to your back as you stumbled some upon standing.

"You're gorgeous," The words stumbled from your mouth before your brain could catch up, and you could feel the burn of your cheeks, the heat traveling up to the tips of your ears.

He blinked once, twice, before a large smile crept up on his face. Though faint, you swore you saw a twinge of red on his cheeks, though that could have been his blush.

"Thank you, dear," His voice was so calming, so nice, "You're quite beautiful yourself."

Whatever response you had died off as you choked on your own spit, wanting nothing more than to disappear where you stood, wishing the fall had knocked you out if it meant you'd escape this mortifying experience. Just shut up, your mouth did not get that memo.

"Like- you look like an idol, I," Your voice was all but a squeak, and he laughed, head thrown back slightly, not mean or mocking but loud and happy.

"You're so kind," His eyes were twinkling, and he turned to look over at Kotoha, "Have you been hiding this cutie all to yourself, Kotoha?"

Kotoha snorted, calming down once she realized your fall hadn't caused you any physical harm. "I'm starting to think I should have introduced the two of you sooner."

The embarrassment you had felt was bordering on straight humiliation. You'd never lost control over your responses, stumbling like an idiot when you saw a pretty face. Something about him, though, had you babbling like a moron. A quick glance at the other two had you ready to flee– Umemiya was smiling at the two of you, looking so naturally happy you felt a simmering desire to punch him. You had to look away, cause– where did that feeling come from? Hiragi looked slightly amused, though he had the gall to try and hide it a bit better. The one who had come in still stood by the door, and though you could only see but so much of his face, you could see his lips curled up slightly.

You glanced down, realizing he had yet to remove one of his hands from your arm. His nails were done so nicely, professional-looking and shiny. The color suited him well, and you could feel your heart hammering faster and faster by each passing second.

There was some commotion from behind you, though with how fluffy your head felt, it sounded rather muffled. You heard someone chuckle, followed by a teasing voice, "Oh? I do believe Sakura's romance detection is going off again."

"Shut it!"

The attention shifted ever so slightly away from you, but not enough. He turned his gaze back to you, the smile still present on his face, his hand still resting gently on your arm.

"I'm Tsubakino Tasuku, but I'd love if you called me Tsubaki." His name was just as pretty as he was, and luckily, your mouth stayed shut with that thought.

His lips pursed for a brief second, as if thinking hard for a moment, before his face soothed back out into a smile, eyes bright. "Would you like to go on a date?"