#jpop ff

&team reaction - being jealous

Pairing: &team x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: drinking in K's

Note: this is the first time I'm writing something requested, I hope you'll like it; english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes

Masterlist

synopsis: your boyfriend has always been clingy when jealous, and you were never one to be against it if being honest. ⌙ 1.8k

pairing: wang yixiang x interviewer!fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of a scandal/rude fans, jealousy

tags: established (but secret) relationship, flirty!nicholas, a couple just doing lovey dovey things, reader usually interviews many famous groups

a/n: oh how no one will ever know how much i giggled while writing this…. jokes aside, &team fluff fic debut on kimakento, we all cheered!!!!!

never in your life would you have thought that you’d be asked to interview &team by your boss. though, when analysing the task at hand, there were some serious ups and downs.

a pro would be that you would get to see and talk one of your favourite groups, but the con was that being in a secret relationship with a member of said group meant that you couldn’t necessarily be too friendly or overbearing.

A/n: Hello, hello! Here's a new one! It's kinda weird but I kind of like it?

Genre: Second chance romance, fluff, angst, comfort, romance, single mom

Pairings: Ex!Fuma x Single mom!reader

Warnings: cursing

The bar was dimly lit, thick with smoke and regrets. Fuma sat in the farthest corner, hood up, glass half-full — or maybe half-empty. He didn’t really care to tell anymore. Three years. That’s how long he’d been someone’s husband. But it had never been his marriage.

He tossed back another shot, the burn in his throat nothing compared to the one in his chest. Every time he blinked, her face came back. Saya. The only girl he had ever loved. The one he’d been forced to let go because his grandmother had called her “unworthy” and “too plain” for a Murata.

He had bowed his head, swallowed his pride, and signed papers that tied him to someone else. A woman who wore her wealth like perfume and love like a performance. He'd tried—God, he’d tried—but love couldn’t be built on guilt.

He was 26 now. Divorced. Emotionally bankrupt. And finally back in his hometown, living with his dad—the only parent who hadn’t tried to carve him into a puppet.

And yet, no matter how far he ran from Tokyo’s high-rise cages, he couldn’t run from her. From what he lost. From what he gave up.

He stared at the bottom of his glass and whispered to no one, “Would we have a kid now, if I had chosen you? Would we have been happy? Would you have looked at me the way you used to—like I was enough?”

The bartender passed by, a familiar older guy from their school days who didn’t bother to ask questions. Fuma was just another broken man looking for memories at the bottom of a bottle.

Fuma hiccuped, head slumped against the counter, one arm dangling off the stool. The ice in his glass had melted completely now, watered-down remnants of another poor decision.

The bar door creaked open.

“There you are.”

His father’s voice cut through the haze, low and relieved, but tinged with worry. Fuma barely turned his head as the older man crossed the room and looped Fuma’s arm over his shoulder, steadying him with ease.

“Alright, enough drinking. Let’s go home,” his dad said gently, his tone more of a hum than a command.

Fuma didn’t protest. He never did with him.

The air outside was cold, sobering in a way he didn’t want. Their footsteps echoed down the quiet street, the only light coming from scattered lampposts and old store signs flickering tiredly.

“What’s got you drinking like this?” his dad asked after a few moments of silence, his voice careful, patient.

Fuma chuckled, a sound brittle and dry.

“Everything,” he slurred. “Those snobby, entitled people… they took everything from me…” His voice cracked as he stumbled slightly, another hiccup slipping past his lips. His eyes dropped to the pavement, glassy and distant. “Everything.”

His father looked at him—really looked—and his heart clenched.

This wasn’t just heartbreak. This was a boy stripped of love, of choices, of peace.

He tightened his grip on his son’s waist and said softly, firmly,

“Dad is here. Dad will get back everything you lost.”

Fuma didn’t respond, but the way he leaned into his father’s shoulder said enough.

For now, he could rest.

For now, he wasn’t alone.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The next morning crept in slowly, with pale sunlight filtering through the windows. Outside, birds chirped faintly, the kind of peaceful morning that felt entirely out of place with the heaviness in the house.

Fuma lay slumped over the kotatsu, face half-buried in his arm, breath slow and shallow. He hadn’t moved since he stumbled in last night. Hadn’t said a word. The blanket was half-draped over his legs, and his hair was a tousled mess, clinging to the dried sweat on his forehead.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the kettle in the kitchen.

Behind him, the sliding door had been left slightly open, letting in the cool morning breeze. From the backyard, two pairs of eyes watched him through the thin gap — his dad and their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Takashima. They sat beneath the persimmon tree, steaming mugs of tea in hand.

“He hasn’t moved,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern. “Poor thing… they really did a number on him.”

His dad’s jaw tightened, his gaze never leaving his son’s still form. “They broke him,” he said. “Forced him into a life that drained every last bit of him.”

Takashima nodded slowly. “All because Saya wasn’t good enough for the Miyamura name.”

“He loved her with his whole heart,” Mrs. Takashima murmured, her voice thick with sympathy.

“Loved her?” His dad exhaled sharply, his voice tinged with emotion. “He still does.”

Another long silence fell between them, heavy with the weight of years lost and choices stolen.

Inside, Fuma’s fingers twitched faintly under the kotatsu, but he still didn’t lift his head.

He didn’t want to be awake. Not really. Not if it meant remembering. Not if it meant living with the truth that he had let her go… and they had made sure she’d never come back.

And yet, outside that open door, the world kept turning.

And two quiet hearts watched over him — one with the patience of a father.

The other with the ache of someone who had seen too many love stories end before their time.

By the time afternoon light pooled softly across the floors, Fuma was still in the same position, slumped over the kotatsu. He hadn’t moved, except now he was fast asleep—shoulders rising and falling slowly, his face turned toward the window. Peaceful, but weighed down.

Outside, his dad stepped out into the backyard, arms full of freshly washed clothes. As he clipped them onto the line, a small sound made him pause—light footsteps padding softly across the grass.

He turned.

“Oh? Who are you?” he asked, spotting a small child standing a few steps away.

The boy blinked up at him, wide-eyed, cheeks full and round. He tilted his head in silence, saying nothing.

Fuma’s dad took a slow step forward, lowering his voice gently. “Are you lost?”

Still, no response. The boy just stood there, curious but quiet.

That’s when a familiar voice rang out.

“Saku, there you are!”

He turned to see a woman entering through the side gate, her smile warm and unmistakable.

“Saya’s mother,” he greeted with a grin. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’ve been well,” she said kindly. “And you?”

“Still breathing,” he chuckled. “What about you? How’s everything?”

“Oh, you know,” she said with a wave of her hand, then glanced down at the boy. “Sorry about him—I didn’t even notice when he ran off.”

“No worries at all,” he said with a chuckle, then looked back at the child. “And who is this little guy?”

She smiled as she patted the boy’s head. “Ah, Sakuya? Saya’s fostering him for a while. He can’t hear.”

His brows lifted in surprise. “Oh? That explains why he didn’t respond.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He paused, then gave her a curious look. “Wait… Saya’s back?”

“She came back yesterday,” her smile softened.

Just then, the boy—Sakuya—ran across the backyard, chasing a fallen clothespin, laughter caught in the bounce of his steps.

Fuma’s dad glanced back toward the house, toward the figure still slumped over the kotatsu inside.

And his heart ached a little.

Fuma’s dad nodded, then added quietly, “Fuma is back too.”

Saya’s mother froze mid-step. Her head turned sharply. “What?”

“He came back a few days ago.”

Her hand rose to her lips. “What I heard about him… is it true?”

His dad let out a tired sigh, nodding once. “Yeah.”

She stepped closer to the sliding door, eyes drifting past the fluttering curtains to the still figure inside—Fuma, curled under the kotatsu like a shell of the boy she used to know. She pressed a hand to her chest, her breath catching.

“Oh, Fuma…” she whispered, the sadness in her voice barely hidden.

His dad followed her gaze, his own expression grim. “He’s just been drinking, eating, and sleeping since he got back. That’s all he’s been doing.”

They both stood there for a moment, silent as the weight of it all settled in. Sakuya giggled as he spun in circles on the grass, unaware of the heaviness hanging in the air.

Fuma’s dad glanced back at the child playing in the backyard, then turned his eyes toward the window, toward his son—still slumped, unmoving.

“…Can Sakuya hang out with him?” he asked, eyes thoughtful. “I think it’d get him to move around. Might be good for him.”

Saya’s mother lit up. “That’d be great! Saya and I were going shopping anyway!”

His dad smiled warmly as she stepped over to the child. She knelt down, struggling a little as she used the simple signs she had learned. Each motion was slow and slightly unsure, but her voice spoke the words clearly as she signed them.

“Grandma. Mom. Work. You. Here. Stay.”

Sakuya’s eyes sparkled, a giggle escaping as he nodded eagerly. He signed something back—his little hands moving quickly.

Saya’s mother tilted her head. “Yes and… something-something…” She laughed softly. “Sorry, I’m still getting the hang of it.”

Fuma’s dad chuckled. “He understood you, that’s what matters.”

Later that afternoon, the light filtering through the window shifted, casting a warm glow across the living room. Fuma was awake now, sitting up beneath the kotatsu with his hair a mess and eyes still heavy from sleep. A blanket was draped over his shoulders, and a dull ache pressed behind his temples.

He blinked slowly—and paused when he noticed the child sitting quietly across from him, scribbling on a notepad with a big blue crayon.

“…Huh?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Who’re you?”

Sakuya looked up, wide-eyed and curious, but didn’t speak. He tilted his head slightly, much like a cat observing a stranger.

Fuma looked toward the hallway, then back to the boy. “Hey… kid?” he asked again, voice hoarse. “Can you talk?”

No answer.

He tried again. “Hello?”

The child just smiled and scribbled something else.

Fuma leaned back, groaning. His dad walked in with a cup of water and casually said, “He’s deaf, Fuma.”

“…What?”

“His name’s Sakuya,” his father added.

A while later, Fuma was still slumped over the kotatsu, barely moving. The stillness was broken when Sakuya, the quiet child, approached and poked at him, rousing him from his stupor. Fuma stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open.

Sakuya, seemingly satisfied, ran off to the yard again, leaving Fuma to sit up groggily. He rubbed his face and noticed a book beside him on the table. Reaching for it, he opened it and read the words inside.

"You're lazy."

He chuckled softly, a dry laugh escaping his lips as he stared at the words. He muttered, half to himself, half to Sakuya, who was out of earshot.

“Well, I guess I am,” he said with a bitter smile. “You’ll take it back when you grow up and realize the world sucks.” He paused, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. “Not that you can hear me anyway.”

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The shopping bags rustled as Saya walked alongside her mom, the late afternoon sun dipping low in the sky. “Did you find everything?” her mother asked, casually checking the items in the bag.

“Yeah, I think so. Where’s Sakuya?” Saya asked, glancing around, expecting to see her foster son running up to greet her.

“Oh, I left him at Fuma’s dad’s place,” her mother said, far too casually.

Saya froze mid-step. “Mom!” she groaned. “Why did you leave him there? Uncle must be really busy!”

Her mother just waved it off. “Calm down! He was the one who offered to look after him.”

“Nope,” Saya said firmly, turning around immediately. “You know Uncle is always doing something around the house or in the yard. I’m going to get Sakuya now.”

She walked off briskly, her mom grinning behind her. Once Saya was out of sight, her mother gave a quiet, victorious fist pump.

“Reunion plan, phase one… complete.”

Bubbles floated into the sky, catching the afternoon light like little orbs of magic. Fuma watched as Sakuya chased them with sweet giggles, eyes wide and arms flailing every time one popped near his face. For the first time in a long time, Fuma actually smiled—a real one, faint and warm, not dulled by liquor or bitterness.

“Alright, alright, last one,” he chuckled, dipping the wand into the soap again and blowing another trail.

Sakuya clapped, reaching up for them, eyes sparkling.

Then—

“Hello? Sorry for leaving Sakuya here for so long—”

The voice made him stop cold.

He turned.

There she was.

Saya.

Time stopped.

Her hair—he noticed it first. It used to be short, naturally black and curly, soft ringlets bouncing just above her shoulders. Now it was long, smooth, and a cool ash brown, falling past her back like the years that had slipped away between them.

Her face had matured, but her eyes… those eyes were the same. And they were staring right at him now.

Sakuya lit up and ran into her arms. “Sakuya!” she gasped, instinctively picking him up and holding him close. Her gaze didn’t leave Fuma’s. She didn’t move. Until—

“Sorry!” she blurted and turned on her heel, taking off with Sakuya in her arms.

Fuma jolted, snapping out of his trance. “Wait—Saya!” he shouted, tripping over the edge of the porch as he fumbled for his slippers. One fell off, and he cursed.

“Screw it—” he muttered, kicking the other one off and running barefoot across the backyard. “Saya, wait!”

Saya’s heart pounded as her feet hit the pavement, Sakuya clutched tightly in her arms.

“What the fuck is he doing here?!” she breathed, panic lacing every word. “Why now?! Why here?!”

She didn’t turn around—but she heard him.

“Saya! Wait!”

Her breath caught. Her chest ached.

“I was doing just fine!” she muttered, voice shaking as she turned down a narrow alley. “Why? Why?!”

Sakuya held onto her tighter, confused by the sudden rush. She slowed just slightly, guilt creeping in as she glanced down at him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just— I can’t see him. Not like this. Not now.”

But the sound of footsteps behind her didn’t stop.

“Saya!”

She started slowing down, not because she wanted to—but because Sakuya had begun to whine softly, shifting uncomfortably in her arms.

“Okay, okay,” she whispered, adjusting him as she slowed her pace, her breath shaky.

That’s when Fuma caught up, rushing in front of her and flinging his arms out, panting.

“Wait, wait! Saya! Wait, please!” he said, panic in his voice.

She stopped.

Her chest heaved as she stood still for a second before her knees gave in and she sank onto the bus stop bench, pulling Sakuya onto her lap again. She didn’t look at Fuma.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said quietly, smoothing down Sakuya’s hair.

Fuma looked down at his shoes, then slowly sat beside her, leaving space between them.

“I know…”

There was a pause.

“What about your wife? Brought her here too?” she asked, eyes still on Sakuya as she gently fixed the boy’s collar.

He gave a soft, awkward laugh. “We, uh… divorced.”

She blinked, her brows lifting. “Fuck—what? When?”

He gave a tired shrug. “Two… three weeks ago?”

Saya blinked slowly at his words, her hand still running gently through Sakuya’s hair as the boy rested against her chest.

“Oh… sorry to hear that,” she said quietly, unsure what else to say. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Fuma took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a kind of heaviness he’d been holding in for too long. He turned slightly toward her.

“Sorry,” he said, voice rough. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

She looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice.

“I’m sorry for how… my mother’s side treated you,” he added, his jaw clenched. “They were cruel. They looked down on you, and I let them.”

Saya didn’t speak, her lips slightly parted as she held his gaze.

“I cut them off,” he said quietly, looking out at the street. “All of them. Haven’t spoken to any of them since I left.”

“Oh… okay…” Saya muttered, her eyes flickering away.

“Well… I guess… good for you.”

A pause stretched between them, awkward and uncertain.

She sighed, adjusting Sakuya slightly on her lap. “Sorry. I… I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

Fuma nodded, offering a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay. I didn’t really expect anything. Just… needed you to know.”

Fuma looked at Sakuya, who stared right back at him with wide eyes. A small smile crept onto his lips as he gently booped the boy’s nose.

Sakuya let out a giggle and signed something quickly.

“He says you’re weird,” Saya translated, laughing softly.

Fuma laughed too. “He’s not wrong. I am kind of weird.”

Saya signed his words to Sakuya, who giggled again and nodded, signing once more.

“He says he’s weird too, so that makes both of you even,” Saya relayed, her smile warm and fond.

Fuma laughed again, booping Sakuya’s nose once more. Then he looked up at Saya. “So… how’d you find him?”

She chuckled. “I volunteered at an orphanage. He was brought there right after being abandoned. Since I was trained in sign language and worked as a nurse, they asked me to foster him until a new family could be found.” She glanced at Sakuya, her expression soft. “He was one then. He’s five now. He’s been with me ever since.”

Fuma’s gaze softened. “So you finally got your wish, huh? To become a nurse, I mean.”

“You could say that,” Saya said with a small laugh.

“How long will he be with you?” Fuma asked.

She exhaled quietly. “If I’m being honest… I don’t want to let him go. I promised I wouldn’t get attached, but… I can’t really live without this little gremlin.” She kissed Sakuya’s forehead as he leaned into her, giggling.

Fuma smiled at the sight.

“Mom doesn’t want me to adopt him,” Saya added quietly. “Not because she doesn’t love him—she loves him. Maybe too much. But… times are tough…”

Fuma leaned back slightly, watching Sakuya rest his head against Saya’s shoulder. “He’d probably be sad if you let him go too.”

Saya let out a small, almost tired laugh. “Yeah… he would.”

She brushed some hair out of Sakuya’s face gently. “Every time I bring up adoption or fostering—even gently—he gets all sulky and mad. Like, actual grumpy face, arms crossed, turns his back on me for hours kind of mad.”

Fuma chuckled. “He’s got spirit.”

“Too much of it,” Saya muttered with affection, running her fingers through Sakuya’s hair. “But I get it. He’s scared. I think… I think he’s finally found something that feels like home, and he doesn’t want to lose it.”

She looked at Fuma then, eyes soft. “And I don’t want to lose him either.”

Fuma gently reached over and patted her hand. “Do what your heart wants. And if you need help… I’d always be willing to help out.”

Saya let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “I can’t ask you for help.”

He gave her a soft smile. “I don’t mind. Really. I’m just… happy you’re in a good place. Especially with someone as adorable as Sakuya.”

Sakuya looked up at them curiously, then smiled wide when he saw them both smiling.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

A week later, everything had subtly begun to change.

Fuma and Saya had decided to start over—as friends this time. No pressure, no expectations. Just two people with history, trying to exist in each other’s lives again without breaking something fragile.

Fuma had stopped spending his days holed up inside, trading the kotatsu for sunlight and the comfort of staying still for the unpredictability of Saya and Sakuya’s adventures. Grocery runs turned into snack breaks. Walks turned into impromptu races. Somehow, he was always tagging along behind the two of them, never quite sure how he got there—but never wanting to leave either.

He even started learning some basic sign language. “Hi.” “Hello.” “Bye.” “Good morning.” And most importantly, how to introduce himself.

The day he got it right—signed it right—Sakuya’s eyes lit up like firecrackers. He laughed, out loud, so hard his shoulders shook, his tiny fists thumping Fuma’s chest as he beamed.

That laugh.

It tugged something in Fuma’s chest loose and made space for something warm. Something that made him smile more easily than he had in years.

Sakuya sat cross-legged in the sand, his fingers busy scooping and shaping, tongue slightly poking out in concentration. The wind blew gently, ruffling his already messy hair as he carefully lifted the red bucket to reveal his latest masterpiece.

It crumbled instantly.

He blinked at the ruined sandcastle, lips twitching before bursting into laughter—his whole body bouncing with glee as he threw his head back and clapped.

Saya and Fuma, sitting on a beach towel nearby, both laughed too.

Fuma shook his head, eyes still on the boy. “Can you actually not let him go?” he asked, voice soft but genuine. “I’ll sponsor. The little dude is starting to grow on me.”

He chuckled again when Sakuya dramatically sighed at his castle's downfall and started all over again, undeterred.

Saya turned her head toward Fuma, eyes searching his. “You’d really do that?”

He nodded, grinning. “Seriously. I mean, look at him. How can anyone not fall for that chaos gremlin charm?”

She smiled, heart full. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly, but her gaze was already back on Sakuya—warm and certain.

Fuma laughed, watching Sakuya’s enthusiastic clapping as he tried to sign his imperfect attempt at offering help. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sparkling eyes of the boy, who seemed so pleased by the effort.

"Let me help," Fuma signed slowly, though not perfectly. Sakuya clapped even harder, his face lighting up at the attempt.

Saya translated for Fuma with a smile. "He says you're getting there!"

Fuma chuckled, a little embarrassed but happy to see Sakuya so eager to communicate.

He stood up, brushing off the sand, and walked over to where Sakuya was working. He filled the bucket with sand, then dunked it into the water by the edge of the beach, wetting the sand just enough to pack it tightly.

With a flourish, Fuma grabbed a stick, waving it like a wizard performing a spell. Sakuya watched, eyes wide with excitement.

When Fuma pulled the bucket away, the sandcastle was perfect. The walls were smooth, the tower standing tall with an intricately formed moat around it. Sakuya gasped, completely in awe, his mouth falling open in amazement. He quickly turned toward Saya, pulling at her arm to get her attention.

“Look! Look, Mom!” he signed excitedly, his tiny hands waving in the air.

Saya blinked, then saw the masterpiece Fuma had created. She chuckled and clapped her hands, signing with a smile, “Ohh! Isn’t that beautiful?”

She turned to Fuma, translating for him. “He says it’s beautiful. He’s really impressed with how you did that.”

Fuma’s heart warmed as she came over to sit beside him, her gaze soft and fond. “You’re really getting the hang of this,” she said, nodding toward the sandcastle.

Fuma gave a sheepish smile. "Guess I had a good teacher."

Sakuya nodded proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

The sun hung lazily overhead, its warmth spilling across the sand in golden waves. Fuma laid back on the beach towel, eyes half-lidded in a rare moment of peace as the sound of crashing waves and distant laughter filled the air. Sakuya, nestled on his chest, rested there quietly, one small hand clutching at the fabric of Fuma’s shirt while his other traced lazy patterns on the older man’s arm.

Nearby, Saya sat cross-legged, the yarn between her fingers dancing in a practiced rhythm as she crocheted with ease. The gentle clack of her needle was soft, soothing—like background music to a fleeting perfect moment.

An elderly couple passed by, smiling warmly as they took in the scene.

“What a beautiful family,” the woman said softly to her husband, just loud enough for them to hear.

Saya froze, her fingers stilling mid-stitch, heart skipping a beat. Her face flushed hot instantly as the words sunk in. Fuma chuckled awkwardly, trying to sit up slightly to say something, maybe correct them—but just as he opened his mouth, Sakuya suddenly wriggled and tickled him right under the ribs.

“Ah! Hey—!” Fuma burst into laughter, unable to stop himself as the boy giggled, clearly pleased with his sneak attack. The old couple chuckled at the sight before continuing their stroll, leaving Saya staring after them, still stunned and a little breathless.

When they were gone, Sakuya sat up and walked over to Saya, curiosity lighting up his face as he signed, What are you making?

Saya smiled and held up her work. “It’s a hat,” she said, translating and signing back. “For you.”

Sakuya’s face lit up in delight, and he threw his arms around her in a quick, tight hug before examining the half-done crochet with fascination.

Fuma, now sitting up and brushing sand from his arm, leaned over and raised a brow. “What about mine? I don’t get a hat?”

Saya laughed. “It’s not free,” she teased, her voice light but her chest still fluttering a little from earlier. She didn’t look at him when she said it, eyes focused on the yarn, but she could feel the warmth that wasn’t from the sun.

Her heart was still thumping from the words that echoed in her head.

A beautiful family.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

One month later...

The mornings had grown cooler, and the sun peeked in lazily through the kitchen window. Saya stood by the counter, carefully spreading jam on a slice of bread. The quiet hum of the fridge filled the space, only occasionally broken by the scrape of a knife or the soft creak of wood as Sakuya shifted on the floor behind her.

He was lying on the floor dramatically, his brand-new crochet hat—slightly crooked—pulled low over his forehead, arms spread out like a starfish. His back was to her, the ultimate expression of sulk.

Fuma had been busy lately. Too busy. Sakuya hadn’t seen him in days, and it showed in the way he didn’t even try to hide his disappointment.

Saya turned the kitchen light on and off once. A moment later, Sakuya groaned and rolled over slowly to face her, pout fully intact, eyes only half-open in protest.

She smiled fondly and signed, Why are you bored, huh?

He flopped onto his side and signed lazily, I wanted to play with him...

She chuckled softly and motioned for him to come over. With another exaggerated sigh, he got up and shuffled over, eventually sitting cross-legged at her feet. She leaned down and gently cupped his cheek, pushing his hat up to see his eyes better.

He has work right now, she signed with a smile. You need to be patient, okay?

Sakuya let out a long, silent whine before taking the toast from her hand and nibbling on it dramatically, like the weight of the world rested on his tiny shoulders.

Saya laughed and sat down beside him on the kitchen floor, pulling him gently into her lap. She kissed the top of his head and whispered, “He’ll come back soon, dummy.”

But as she held him close, even she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Fuma had been up to—and why he was being so secretive.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Two weeks later…

The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional chirp of birds outside. Saya sat cozily beneath the kotatsu, a thick blanket draped over her legs, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of green tea. She sighed contentedly, savoring the peace while Sakuya was off at kindergarten.

Then—tap tap tap—a gentle knock on the glass door.

She turned her head toward the backyard and blinked. Fuma was peeking in through the sliding door, a playful grin on his face.

“Am I disturbing?” he asked, raising his brows.

Saya couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes.”

“Hey.” he whined, feigning offense as he slid the door open and stepped inside. “I bring joy, warmth, and good looks, and this is the welcome I get?”

He shuffled over and ducked under the kotatsu, settling beside her with a sigh of exaggerated relief.

“Sakuya missed you,” she said, sipping her tea.

Fuma smiled softly. “I missed him too. Actually… I missed you both. What about you? Did you miss me?”

Saya turned away, hiding the blush that crept up her cheeks. “No,” she replied flatly, clearly teasing.

Fuma bumped her shoulder. “You’re lying.”

She sipped her tea again to avoid answering.

“I went to Tokyo,” he said after a beat, staring at the ceiling.

She glanced at him. “For?”

Instead of replying, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table toward her.

She frowned. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” he said with a grin.

She did—and gasped. Inside were two gold necklaces, each with a tiny, elegant “S” pendant. One for her, and one for Sakuya.

“Fuma…” she breathed, staring at them in awe.

“You said you liked mine,” he said, tugging at his own chain beneath his shirt. “So I figured… now you and Sakuya can match.”

“I can’t accept this. It’s—this is expensive—”

Before she could say more, he reached out and gently pressed a finger to her lips. “It’s rude to reject a gift.”

Her cheeks burned as she glared at him behind the flustered smile she couldn’t hide.

He chuckled and pulled one necklace from the box. “Come on. Try it on."

“Hold your hair up.” he says softly.

Still stunned, she wordlessly lifted her hair, leaning toward him as he carefully fastened the chain around her neck. The pendant settled lightly against her collarbone.

“There,” he murmured, smiling. “Looks perfect.”

She brushed her fingers against it, her voice quiet. “…Thank you.”

He leaned back, relaxed, and grinned.

Her heart was thudding in her chest again—warm, flustered, and full. All she could do was smile down at the pendant as the glow of the kotatsu wrapped around them both.

Fuma leaned his elbows on the kotatsu, his eyes flickering from the necklace to her face.

“You still look as gorgeous as you did when we were in high school,” he said softly. “Maybe even prettier.”

Saya paused, blinking in surprise before a quiet laugh escaped her lips. “What? Are you flirting with me now?”

Fuma chuckled, his grin lopsided and warm. “I’d say that, but… it’d be disrespectful of me to say it.”

She tilted her head, smile curving gently as her fingers played with the chain around her neck. “Oh? And why’s that?”

He met her eyes, the warmth never leaving his. “Because I don’t want to ruin anything. Especially not this.” He nudged her foot under the kotatsu again. “And not when I’m finally being allowed back into your life.”

That made her smile soften even more, her heart fluttering. She didn’t say anything, but the silence between them didn’t feel heavy. It felt full—like something beginning to bloom again.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

A week later, the soft afternoon sun filtered through the trees as Saya stood just outside the kindergarten gates, hands tucked into her coat pockets. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Sakuya burst through the door, his tiny arms swinging, the little gold necklace with the “S” charm glinting under his scarf.

“Mommy!” he signed excitedly before running and jumping into her arms with a big grin.

Saya caught him with ease, laughing softly as she hugged him close. “Someone’s happy today,” she signed and said, brushing a kiss on his cheek.

As they began their walk home, Sakuya walked beside her, holding her hand tightly as he signed in little bursts of joy.

“We painted! I made a rabbit!”

Saya smiled and signed back, “A rabbit? What color?”

“Pink. Like your cheeks!” he signed, then giggled.

She laughed, tugging his hat down a little. “You’re such a charmer.”

“Miss Kojima said it looked really good! And I showed her my necklace. She said it’s pretty.” He looked down proudly at the tiny charm on his chest.

“It is pretty,” Saya signed with a warm smile. “It suits you.”

Sakuya looked up at her and beamed. “Fuma picked a good one.”

That made her heart skip. She looked ahead and nodded slowly, her thumb brushing over the edge of her own matching necklace under her coat.

Yeah... he did.

That evening, the warm scent of curry filled Saya’s home as Sakuya sat cross-legged on the floor, doodling with crayons. A knock on the door pulled her attention, and she smiled knowingly.

Opening the door, she was greeted by Fuma, bundled up in his coat, a familiar crooked grin on his face.

“Yo,” he said, stepping in and slipping off his shoes. Sakuya immediately perked up from the floor and ran over to greet him with an excited squeal, hugging his legs. “Hey, little guy!” Fuma said, bending down to ruffle his hair.

They settled into the kotatsu like usual, warmth seeping through the blanket as the three of them chatted comfortably. After a while, Saya cleared her throat and looked up from her tea.

“Hey, um…” she started, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Would you… maybe be okay with going to Sakuya’s class visitation day next week? I have a shift I can’t move, and I don’t want him to be alone.”

Fuma blinked at her, then immediately grinned. Without hesitation, he turned to Sakuya and signed — clumsily, but with heart — “Of course!”

Saya smiled, clearly relieved. “Thank you,” she said, genuinely. “He’ll be really happy.”

Sakuya clapped and laughed, immediately tugging on Fuma’s sleeve excitedly. Fuma chuckled and leaned over toward Saya.

“I better make sure I look cool then. Can’t embarrass him in front of his friends.”

Saya laughed softly, her fingers brushing over the “S” charm on her necklace. “You’re already his favorite person… no pressure.”

The night was quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of wind against the windows. Sakuya was already snuggled up in bed, his tiny fingers still clutching the edge of his blanket as Fuma gently pulled it up to his chin and tucked him in.

He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Sakuya’s forehead.

“Good night, buddy,” he whispered.

As he tiptoed out of the room and gently closed the door behind him, Saya was waiting in the hallway with a soft smile. Fuma turned to her, raising a brow playfully.

“Do you want a good night kiss too?” he asked with a teasing smirk.

Saya let out a laugh and playfully slapped his arm. “You really are something, Murata.”

Fuma chuckled, rubbing his arm dramatically like she actually hurt him. “I take that as a compliment,” he said proudly, giving her a mock bow. Then he gently patted her arm. “I’ll get going then. Good night, Saya.”

She walked with him to the door, the soft click of their steps the only sound between them. The air outside was cooler now, brushing against her skin as she opened the door.

“Good night,” she said, her voice warm. “And… thanks for the help.”

Fuma flashed her a soft, crooked smile. “No biggy,” he replied, stepping out onto the porch. “See you tomorrow, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she said, already hugging the warmth of the kotatsu in her mind. “Get home safe.”

With a wave, Fuma walked off into the night, hands tucked in his pockets and a little more warmth in his step than before.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The next morning rolled in gently, sunlight streaking through Saya’s curtains. After dropping off Sakuya at kindergarten, she met Fuma just outside a cozy café near the station, both bundled up in their winter jackets, steam curling from their hot drinks as they strolled side by side.

They had no solid plans—just a day to themselves. So they wandered through small shops, picking up random snacks and little trinkets. Fuma insisted on buying her a keychain that reminded him of her—soft purple with a tiny cat—and she rolled her eyes, but didn’t refuse.

Lunch was at a ramen place tucked between alleyways, where they sat side by side and stole bites of each other’s bowls. They ended up in a karaoke room soon after, singing their hearts out until their voices rasped with laughter. Fuma even sang her favorite high school song, winking between lines and making her laugh so hard she nearly dropped the mic.

As the morning mellowed into late afternoon, they walked shoulder to shoulder toward Sakuya’s school. Fuma kept glancing around to make sure he’d remember the way for next week. The neighborhood was calm and warm in a way that felt like home.

And then, just as they turned a corner, Fuma said with a lazy grin, “You know… we basically just went on a date.”

Saya blinked. “Wait—” she looked back at their day in her mind and suddenly laughed. “Oh my god. Now that I think about it… we did do date stuff.”

A blush crept onto her cheeks before she looked away with a smile. The air felt different now—quieter, softer.

For a while, they didn’t speak. Their steps stayed in rhythm.

Then Saya felt something—his fingers brushing against hers. Not rushed. Not forced. Just… slow and gentle. Testing the waters.

And then he fully laced their hands together.

Her heart skipped, and she didn’t pull away.

She looked up at him. He didn’t say anything—just smiled down at her with that lopsided grin that always made her feel like she was seventeen again.

And then, without a word, he leaned down slightly, brushing a soft, brave kiss to the crown of her head.

It was feather-light, but it lingered. Enough to make her close her eyes for a second.

The city faded around them. All that remained was the warmth of their hands, the feel of his lips on her hair, and the quiet understanding between them—like something unspoken had finally begun.

The school doors slid open and children began to spill out in waves, their little backpacks bouncing, laughter filling the air. Saya scanned the crowd with a soft smile, but her eyes locked immediately onto one tiny figure in particular—Sakuya, bundled in his winter coat, his cheeks flushed from play and the little gold necklace catching the fading afternoon sun.

She raised her hand in greeting, but Sakuya didn’t wave back right away.

He had frozen mid-step, eyes wide—not at her, but at the person standing next to her.

Fuma grinned and held up a small plushie he’d picked up earlier—a round sea otter holding a heart in its paws—waving it like a little flag.

What happened next made Saya’s breath catch in her throat.

Sakuya screamed. Not in fear—but in the kind of pure, bubbling excitement she’d never seen so vividly from him before. His whole body lit up, a squeal escaping his lips as he broke into a sprint, full-force, legs pumping like he couldn’t get there fast enough.

She swore, in all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen Sakuya this happy.

His joy was boundless, uninhibited. And then he launched forward, flinging his entire body into both her and Fuma’s arms, nearly knocking them over.

They laughed, all three of them tangled in the tightest hug—Sakuya clinging to them both with all the might in his small body, the plushie squished between them.

“I missed you both so much!” he signed rapidly with one hand, the other still gripping the sea otter, his face glowing with joy.

Fuma looked over Sakuya’s head and met Saya’s eyes, his own soft with something she couldn’t quite name—but it settled right into her chest like warmth after the cold.

She wrapped an arm around Sakuya, brushing his hair back as he laughed and tugged on Fuma’s sleeve, signing excitedly about his day.

And in that moment—with the sun dipping low, their hands full of joy and each other—Saya realized this was what happiness looked like. Not loud or extravagant, but soft and glowing, tucked into the smallest moments that somehow meant everything.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The next week arrived with a quiet chill in the morning air. Saya stood at the doorway bundled up, her tea warming her hands. Right on time, the doorbell rang.

Fuma stood outside, dressed neatly in a navy coat over a fitted sweater, slacks, and his usual charm. His hair was slightly tousled, and he looked surprisingly... well put together.

Sakuya burst out of the house in excitement, practically flying into Fuma’s arms. Fuma laughed, catching him with ease before lifting him high.

“There he is!” he grinned, spinning him once for good measure.

Saya stepped forward and smiled as she watched them. Fuma turned to her with a playful smirk and gently poked her cheek. “Good luck today, Saya.”

She chuckled, “Thanks,” then turned to Sakuya, who was already clinging to Fuma’s shoulder.

She leaned in to kiss his forehead, then both cheeks and his little nose. “I’ll miss you,” she signed gently, lips curving into a smile.

Sakuya giggled and signed back quickly, “I’ll miss you more!”

When she looked up, Fuma was watching her with a mischievous grin, wiggling his eyebrows. She sighed, then shook her head in amusement before leaning in and giving him a soft kiss on the forehead.

Sakuya gasped dramatically and signed frantically, “Mama!” with wide, shocked eyes.

Fuma threw his head back laughing. “You better get to work before this kid starts writing tell-all books,” he teased as Saya laughed, watching the two of them disappear down the street.

—

Later that morning, Fuma and Sakuya arrived at the kindergarten, where the class was buzzing with chatter and visiting parents. Fuma took a deep breath, straightened Sakuya’s little jacket, and followed him into the room.

The teacher greeted them warmly, and Fuma gave a respectful bow before finding a place at the back while the morning activities began.

As each child went up with their parent or guardian for introductions, Fuma felt a little tap on his sleeve.

He turned—and there was Sakuya, looking up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Sakuya raised his hands and began signing slowly and carefully:

“Can I introduce you as my dad?”

Fuma’s heart swelled. For a moment, he didn’t say anything—just stared at the boy whose tiny hands held so much meaning.

Then he leaned forward, kissed Sakuya’s forehead, and nodded.

“Of course you can.”

Sakuya’s turn came, and he eagerly tugged Fuma’s hand as they made their way up to the front of the classroom. The warm afternoon light poured in through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over the children and parents seated around.

Sakuya looked up at Fuma with a grin, then turned to face the class. He raised his small hands and signed clearly, “Good morning.”

Fuma, standing beside him, translated aloud, “He says, ‘Good morning.’”

Sakuya continued with a proud smile, “My name is Sakuya… and this is my dad.”

Fuma’s chest ached, full and warm, but his voice stayed steady as he translated again, “My name is Sakuya, and this is my dad.”

The classroom let out a soft wave of “aww”s and light applause, some of the other kids beaming at them.

Sakuya glanced up at Fuma expectantly, like he was waiting.

Fuma gave a little nod, then stepped forward, voice confident but warm. “Hi, I’m Murata Fuma,” he said with a polite dip of his head. “It’s really nice to meet all of you. I’m happy I get to be here with Sakuya today.”

Sakuya leaned against his side, smiling so wide his cheeks puffed, and Fuma couldn’t help but rest a gentle hand on the boy’s back—his heart full.

Later that afternoon, after the introductions were over and the kids had sung a song for the visiting parents, the class moved on to the art gallery display—rows of colorful drawings hung up on the wall, each child having drawn their “family.”

Fuma followed Sakuya as he eagerly led him through the rows of crayon masterpieces, until they stopped in front of one that made Fuma pause.

Sakuya pointed at it with both hands, eyes shining. “That one’s mine!” he beamed, and looked up at Fuma proudly.

Fuma leaned in.

Three stick figures, hand-drawn in bright colors. One had long brown hair and a soft smile labeled Mom. The smaller one in the middle had the signature necklace and a big grin—Me . And beside him was a taller figure with messy brown hair and a peace sign, labeled Dad.

Fuma blinked.

He felt the lump rise in his throat, catching him off guard. His eyes stung, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to blink away the warmth building behind his lashes.

He couldn’t speak. Not yet.

Sakuya turned to him, bouncing slightly on his feet, signing with shining eyes. Do you like it?

Fuma’s throat felt tight, but he still smiled—soft, touched, overwhelmed. He crouched to meet Sakuya’s gaze, blinking quickly before signing back, slowly and carefully.

I love it. I love it so much.

Sakuya grinned as Fuma reached out and gently brushed a hand over his hair. Then, signing again:

You made me really happy.

Sakuya responded with a quick hug, arms flung around his neck without hesitation. Fuma wrapped his arms around him in return, letting out a quiet breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

And just before they pulled away, he signed one last thing with his fingers trembling just slightly.

Thank you for drawing me. I’m so proud of you.

Sakuya looked up at him, smiling so brightly it could’ve melted snow. Fuma couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped, even as his chest swelled with something warm and achingly full.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Later that night, the apartment was blanketed in soft stillness. The only sound was the ticking of the clock and the gentle hum of the heater. Sakuya had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up with his necklace still around his neck and the faintest smile on his face.

Saya stepped out of his room, quietly shutting the door behind her, only to find Fuma sitting on the couch in the dim light of the living room. He hadn’t said much since they got back. Just smiled, nodded, and helped clean up. Now, he sat there, hunched over slightly, staring at the floor with his hands clasped tightly.

She walked over and gently patted his back. “You’ve been quiet since you came back,” she said softly. “You alright?”

Fuma turned to her—and something in his face made her stop breathing.

Then he broke.

A soft, heart-wrenching sob slipped from his lips as he reached into his bag with trembling hands. Saya’s eyes widened in alarm as he pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her, his shoulders shaking.

It was Sakuya’s drawing.

She looked at it again—really looked. And her chest ached with the tenderness of it.

Mom. Me. Dad.

And just beside her, Fuma whispered through tears, “I never stopped loving you, Saya.”

She looked up, stunned.

“I thought I could move on back then—I tried. But when I saw you again… I fell in love all over again.” His voice broke, and he ran a hand over his face as tears streamed freely now. “But I didn’t want to risk losing you again. So I kept it inside. I bottled everything.”

He looked up at her, eyes red and brimming. “And then Sakuya came into my life. He changed everything. You both did. I started spending more time with you two, and it just… it got harder to control how I felt.”

Saya clutched the paper, heart pounding, frozen in place.

Fuma let out a shaky breath, his voice barely a whisper now. “But today, when Sakuya asked if he could call me his dad… when I saw this drawing…”

He choked, trying to speak through it. “It broke me. In the best and worst way. Because it felt so real. Like I was part of something I never thought I’d have again.”

He looked at her, desperation trembling in his expression. “I’m sorry. I just—I need you. I need both of you. I don’t think I can live without either of you anymore.”

Silence settled around them.

The paper in her hand felt heavy now, soaked in emotion, in love, in years they had tried to forget. She slowly sat down beside him, heart twisting with everything unspoken between them.

And for a moment, she didn’t say anything—just reached out and gently took his hand in hers.

Saya didn’t need to think.

She placed the drawing gently on the table, reached over, and wrapped her arms around him. Fuma tensed at first—like he still didn’t believe this was real—but then melted into her, burying his face in her shoulder as she held him tightly.

She turned her head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. Her voice shook just like his had. “I don’t think I can live without you either…”

That was all it took.

Fuma let out a strangled sob and pulled her closer, arms locking around her like he was afraid she might disappear again if he didn’t hold on tight enough. His forehead rested against her temple, and his breaths came out uneven and warm against her skin.

“I missed you so much…” he whispered. “Every single day.”

She nodded, her own eyes brimming. “I missed you too, Fuma… more than I ever let myself admit.”

They stayed like that—wrapped up in each other—while the city outside faded to nothing. There was only the hum of the heater, the quiet of the night, and the sound of two hearts that had found their way back home.

Fuma slowly pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his cheeks damp with tears, breath trembling. Saya cupped his face gently, her thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek. For a moment, neither of them spoke—the air between them thick with emotion, with years of unspoken love and longing finally cracking open.

Then he leaned in, hesitantly at first—until Saya met him halfway.

Their lips met in the softest, most tender kiss, filled with everything they couldn’t say. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, reverent, like they were rediscovering something they’d both lost but never let go of. Fuma’s hand moved to her waist while hers slid behind his neck, anchoring him close. The world went quiet again. It was just them, wrapped in warmth and a promise neither of them dared make before.

They kissed like they had all the time in the world—and maybe now, they did.

---

Morning light spilled gently into the bedroom through sheer curtains. Golden and sleepy, it bathed the small room in a kind of peace that only came after nights full of truth.

Sakuya stirred in the middle of the bed, blinking softly as he yawned and sat up a little. His sleepy eyes wandered to the side of the room—and lit up the moment he spotted something.

His drawing.

Pinned neatly to the corkboard above his little shelf.

A beaming sun, shaky stick figures—Mom, Me, Dad—holding hands beneath a blue sky. Crayons had never made something look so beautiful.

Sakuya turned to his sides and froze.

Fuma was to his right, Saya to his left. Both were asleep, arms around each other—and around him. His tiny form was wrapped up like the heart of a family cocoon, safe and warm.

Sakuya smiled, cheeks dimpled as he snuggled right back in between them.

Still half-asleep, Fuma instinctively pulled them closer, his arm tightening around Saya’s waist and the other cradling Sakuya’s little back. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It was quiet. Gentle. Whole.

And in that moment, everything felt exactly where it belonged.

That's it for this oneee!

It came out way longer than I wanted it to but yk me 😭 also, Sakuya is my baby and he seemed like the best fit to be the son so I went with it 🥹

I hope y'all enjoyed it 🥹

&team reaction - to getting matching things from you

Pairing: &team x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Note: I'm sorry this is very short, I originally wanted to write something else but I wasn't in the mood for that but I also wanted to post something so I kinda just wrote this in a rush; english is not my first language I apologize for any mistakes

Masterlist

A/n: So, this can be seen as a continuation for 'Swim'. I kinda got carried away with it so please bear with me my friends.

Genre: Fantasy, werewolf au, romance, suggestive, fluff,

Pairings: Werewolf!Jo x Gorgon!Eri (fem oc)

Warnings: it's kind of suggestive 🫣😳 not too much though so don't worry! And also jealous!Jo 😳😳

Jo had been feeling… off lately.

Not sick. Not anxious.

Just off. Like something kept tugging at his thoughts whenever he tried to do literally anything else. Something—or more like someone—who lived across the street, had a venomously sharp sense of humor, and had kissed his neck like it was a casual little goodnight.

Eri.

Ever since that evening, he’d started staying home more. His usual late-night runs and aimless roaming through the woods had slowed down. Now, his nights consisted of staring out the living room window or peeking through the blinds of his bedroom—just in case she stepped out.

Jo’s mom had noticed. Of course, she had. And she’d laugh to herself while folding laundry, tossing him a knowing glance. “The house feels full lately,” she’d teased once. “Must be all that love-struck werewolf energy.”

He’d nearly choked.

Now, again, Jo found himself crouched by the window, fingers gently parting the blinds just enough to peek out. The street was quiet, sun soft in the sky—and then he saw her.

Eri.

Walking slowly down the sidewalk, her snakes lazily bobbing in the warm air. She looked so damn effortlessly cool—barely even dressed up, but the way the sun hit her skin and how the snakes moved like they were a part of her soul made him dizzy.

He held his breath, assuming she’d just pass by.

But then—she stopped.

Her head turned.

Her gaze—right at his window.

Jo flinched. His heart leapt in panic, and he jerked back so fast he lost his balance, falling hard on his back with a startled grunt. He stared at the ceiling, stunned, embarrassed, but mostly confused.

No way she saw me. Right? My blinds—

“Jo!” her voice rang out, amused and unbothered from outside. “I can see you. Wanna come along?”

His heart dropped. He scrambled up and pushed his window open a crack. “I—I’m busy,” he muttered, trying to sound casual, even as his voice cracked slightly.

She laughed. Laughed.

“That so?” Eri replied, arms crossed now as she looked up at his window with a sly smirk. “Staring at people through your blinds now counts as busy work?”

His face went red. “I wasn’t—! I didn’t—!” He scowled and yanked his hood over his head. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Uh huh.” Her grin widened. “You’ve been staring for ten minutes, Jo. I counted.”

He slammed the window shut, groaning under his breath, cheeks on fire.

Seconds later, it creaked open again.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled.

Eri smiled, tilting her head.

“Just wandering,” she said, one of her snakes flicking its tongue lazily. “Thought you might wanna tag along. You know, since you’re not busy.”

Jo hesitated—then grabbed his hoodie and disappeared from the window.

They walked side by side through the narrow path in the woods, leaves crunching softly beneath their feet. Sunlight filtered through the branches, dappled against her skin and illuminating the slithering shapes tangled in her dark hair.

Jo tried not to stare—but his eyes kept betraying him.

The snakes dangled lazily through her scalp, half-asleep, curling and uncurling like ribbons in the breeze. Somehow, they didn’t look threatening. More like… cute. A little creepy, sure. But in the way dangerous things sometimes were.

And Eri?

Eri looked insane. In the hottest way possible.

Her white cami clung to her figure, delicate lace tracing the neckline and hem, just barely modest. Her joggers were low-rise, sitting dangerously low on her hips, and with each step, her curves moved like something out of a music video. She didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she did.

Jo’s eyes drifted again—only for her to suddenly turn, catching him in the act.

She grinned, snake eyes glinting with amusement. “For a quiet dude, you’re quite freaky. Don’t you think?”

Jo choked on his breath and immediately looked away, ears flaming. “I wasn’t—! I mean, I’m not—!”

Eri laughed, full and amused, tossing her head as one of the snakes flicked its tongue out lazily.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” she teased.

“I’m not flustered,” he muttered, eyes locked on the path now, refusing to look at her again.

“Sure, wolfboy,” she hummed, tone lilting, “just keep in mind—if you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you want another kiss.”

She didn’t wait for his response. She kept walking, the soft sway of her hips hypnotizing. Jo, meanwhile, was doing everything he could not to combust where he stood.

This girl was going to kill him.

And he might let her.

They kept walking deeper into the woods, the silence between them strangely comforting despite the earlier teasing. Jo was beginning to think maybe he liked the quiet best when it was with her. When it wasn’t full of pressure to speak or act or be anything other than what he was.

That is—until something dropped from the trees like a shadow.

Jo’s instincts kicked in instantly. His body tensed, ready to shift, to attack, to protect.

But before he could do anything, Eri shrieked.

“Yuma!” she exclaimed, her voice half-annoyed, half-laughing.

The stranger—boy, around their age—landed with a grin, casually brushing a leaf off his shoulder. “Damn, Eri. Still got that scream on lock.”

“You idiot,” she groaned, swatting his arm. “You can’t just pop out of nowhere like that!”

He laughed like it was all a game and reached out, his hand sliding easily onto her bare waist as if it had every right to be there. Eri didn’t even flinch at the touch. She just rolled her eyes, pushing his hand away but without real malice.

Jo felt it like a punch.

That hand on her waist. Skin on skin. Like it was normal.

Something crackled in his chest. Low and sharp and unfamiliar.

Why was he touching her like that?

If they were friends… why the hell did he have to touch her like that?

Jo’s jaw tightened.

Eri, blissfully unaware, turned and waved her hand lazily toward him. “Yuma, this is Jo. Jo, Yuma. He’s an old friend—don’t mind him, he’s always dramatic.”

Yuma offered a casual, lopsided grin. “Yo.”

Jo stared for a second too long, then gave a stiff nod. “Hey.”

Something about Yuma rubbed him wrong already.

Eri was smiling. That same smile Jo always noticed. Wide. Bright. Freckled with mischief.

And Jo couldn't help but think:

That smile used to be his alone.

Even if it never really was.

Yuma talked fast—too fast. Every word was laced with easy charm, the kind that came from knowing he could get away with almost anything. And Eri, for some reason, let him. She laughed at his stupid jokes, nudged his arm when he said something dumb, and didn’t even flinch when his hand rested casually on the small of her back or ghosted across her shoulder.

Jo walked beside them in silence, hands clenched in his pockets.

Yuma’s hand slid to her hip. Stayed there.

Jo’s jaw clenched.

What the hell was that?

Why was his hand still there?

He told himself it wasn’t his business. That Eri could handle herself. She wasn’t his girlfriend. She never said she was. But—

His mind flashed back to her fingertips playing with the collar of his shirt, the brush of her lips against his neck, the whisper of her breath when she said “You’re so my type.”

He’d been thinking about that moment for days. Weeks.

Hell, he’d been living in it.

Why would she say something like that? Kiss him like that—set his whole body on fire—and then turn around and let some other guy cling to her like she didn’t just shatter his world with one soft kiss?

His chest ached. Not with sadness. With something more primal. More possessive. Something hot and unbearable.

Yuma laughed again and gave her waist a squeeze, like it was his favorite place in the world.

Jo’s breath hitched. He didn’t know what scared him more—how much he hated it, or how much he wanted to rip Yuma’s hand away and snarl at him to back off.

She’d kissed him. Not Yuma.

So why wouldn’t she just claim him already? Mark him in whatever way she wanted so the world knew—so Yuma knew—that she wasn’t his to touch.

Jo glanced at her, eyes dark. And suddenly, he knew:

If she touched him again… he wouldn’t be able to walk away so easily this time.

Luckily—mercifully—Yuma had to leave. He checked his phone, said something about being late, and pulled Eri into a hug that lingered a second too long for Jo’s liking.

Jo stiffened.

But before his inner wolf could even begin to snarl, Yuma was already turning to him with an easygoing grin. “Great meeting you, man,” he said, giving Jo a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Jo just grunted, muscles still tight beneath the surface, watching as Yuma jogged off and disappeared through the trees.

No bloodshed. No growling. No snapping jaws.

Crisis averted.

He exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the burning jealousy coiled low in his gut. But she… she just kept walking like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just let some guy cling to her like a vine, or laugh like she didn’t notice the storm raging next to her.

Then she glanced at him, brows raised. “You’re being really quiet all of a sudden.”

He glanced at her sideways, still trying to figure out how to respond without sounding like an unhinged territorial werewolf.

“…You let that guy put his hands all over you.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“I noticed,” he muttered.

Eri smirked, crossing her arms. “Jealous?”

He looked away, jaw tight. “I don’t like people touching what’s not theirs.”

“Funny,” she said, stepping a little closer, her voice amused. “Because I don’t remember belonging to anyone.” She tilted her head, the corner of her mouth curling. “Unless you’re saying I should?”

That made him stop walking.

His heart stuttered. Her tone was teasing—but the spark in her eyes said she wasn’t just messing around. Not entirely.

His fingers curled at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out. To take that invitation.

“I’m saying,” he said lowly, “you shouldn’t tease people like that unless you’re ready for them to do something about it.”

Her snakes flicked lazily in her hair, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh?” she murmured.Eri grinned, slow and sure, like a cat who’d cornered its prey. “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she whispered, her hand finding the back of his neck before both arms gently wrapped around it. Her body pressed in just close enough to make him forget how to breathe.

“Yuma’s like my brother,” she added, voice soft, like she was sharing a secret. “He’s always been touchy with everyone. Doesn’t mean anything.”

Jo’s jaw was still tight, conflicted. His eyes searched hers, cautious. “Still,” he muttered, not quite looking at her, “you shouldn’t let people you’re not… involved with touch you like that. It sends the wrong message.”

She leaned back just enough to look at him properly, brows raised, lips twitching into a smirk. “You are jealous.”

“I’m not,” he shot back, a little too quickly.

She chuckled, her fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Mmhmm. Sure. That’s why your eye twitched every time he touched me.”

“It did not.”

“Did too.”

He groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable,” she laughed, nose brushing against his temple.

Jo's head lifted, breath caught somewhere in his throat as his golden eyes locked with hers. Before he could speak, one of Eri's snakes slithered down from her hair, curling around the back of his neck in a slow, deliberate motion, tugging him forward with gentle but commanding strength.

He stumbled a step closer, eyes wide, chest rising and falling a bit faster now.

Her lips curved into something sinfully pretty as she looked up at him through her lashes—sultry, amused, devastating. “You’re hot when you’re shy,” she whispered, her voice low and thick with intention.

Then, her finger reached up and rubbed across his lips in one slow, teasing drag, her touch feather-light. Jo froze, practically vibrating with tension, his fists clenched at his sides, trying to keep his cool.

Eri tilted her head, her snake still snug around his neck like a scarf made of heat and mischief.

"Say something, wolf boy," she murmured. "Or are you too busy imagining things I should probably be flattered by?"

Jo jerked his head back slightly, just enough to loosen the snake’s grip—though it didn’t retreat, still draped around his neck like it belonged there. His cheeks were tinged pink, and he scowled, forcing his voice to stay steady.

“I’m not imagining anything,” he said firmly, a little too quickly.

Eri raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She didn’t press though, just smirked and let her hand fall away as she turned to keep walking, her hips swaying with each step.

But Jo couldn’t move right away. Not when his brain was suddenly full of images that had nothing to do with trees or trails or anything remotely innocent. Eri in his shirt again—except this time with nothing else under it. Eri with her fingers in his hair. Eri pressed up against him with those snakes coiling around them both.

He swallowed thickly, the tips of his ears burning.

She has no idea, he thought, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. If I said even half of what I’m thinking, I’d probably be arrested. Or worshipped. There is no in-between.

He exhaled hard through his nose and finally followed after her, keeping a safe distance.

Safe for her… and especially for his sanity.

Jo’s steps grew heavier, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He was trying to keep it together, but the image of Yuma’s hand on Eri’s bare waist kept replaying in his mind. It gnawed at him, a dull, persistent ache that he couldn’t shake.

Sure, Eri hadn’t touched Yuma the same way she had touched him—there was no snake-wrapped intimacy or quiet, flirty whispers shared between them—but that damn hand on her waist… it had been so natural, so easy, like it belonged there. Like it was nothing.

But to Jo, it was everything.

He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching in his pockets as he stared at the back of Eri’s head, willing himself not to storm up behind her and demand answers. The thought of Yuma's touch on her, so casual, made him feel something raw and primal, something he didn’t quite understand but couldn’t ignore.

He watched her sway her hips with each step, her movements fluid, effortless, and somehow too perfect, too confident. Everything about her drew him in, made him feel alive in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge. But Yuma? Yuma was just another guy in her life. A friend, probably. But to Jo, the possessive streak inside him flared, demanding to know why she seemed so comfortable with him.

She turned her head to glance back at him, catching him in the act of staring again, but instead of teasing him, her expression softened, like she could see right through his tension.

“Jo,” she called, her voice teasing but not unkind. “Stop glaring at the ground like you're trying to burn a hole through it.”

He scowled, but his voice was rougher than usual when he spoke. “I’m not glaring.”

“Sure,” she said, turning to face him with a raised brow, the corner of her lips curling up. “You’re just… thinking really hard about something.”

Jo’s heart stuttered for a moment. Damn her, she could read him so easily. He couldn’t even hide it, not when she was so close, not when she was still so herself around him.

He sucked in a breath, deciding to deflect, like he always did. “Just... not a fan of that guy, alright?”

Eri smiled faintly, as though she could tell there was more to it than just not liking Yuma. "I know you're jealous, Jo. But you don’t have to be."

Her words hung in the air between them, and it took every ounce of his control not to act on the impulse to pull her close, kiss her, claim her in a way that was entirely unlike him.

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, his gaze shifting to the ground.

“Sure,” she said again, her voice light and amused. "And I’m definitely not hot when I make you mad."

Jo froze at that. "Don't push it."

Eri laughed, clearly enjoying the power she held over him. But as they continued walking, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing the battle with himself.

The two of them walked in silence for a while longer until they reached a hidden, secluded pond nestled within the woods. The water shimmered, glistening under the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees. It was serene, untouched, a secret haven. Jo couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it, but as he glanced over at Eri, the peaceful moment shattered.

She casually pulled her camisole over her head, revealing a black bra underneath. Jo’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened in shock, but in an instant, his instinct to respect her space kicked in, and he quickly looked away, his face flushing red. He couldn’t help the rush of thoughts that flooded his mind, the image of her body—just a glimpse—and how much he wanted to look, yet how much he knew he shouldn't. The intensity of it made him feel as if the ground beneath him might collapse.

Eri, completely unaware of his internal struggle, slipped into the pond, her movements graceful and carefree, like she had done this a thousand times. The cool water made her skin glisten as she swam effortlessly, her hair fanning out around her.

“Come on, Jo! The water’s great,” she called to him, her voice echoing over the stillness of the pond.

Jo hesitated, every part of him screaming not to, but then again, something inside of him was drawn to her, to the way she looked so free, so untouchable. He swallowed his pride and waded into the pond slowly, trying not to act as awkward as he felt. The moment he entered the water, he felt a sharp coolness, but it didn’t help to cool the heat rising in his chest from everything that had happened—everything she was doing.

Eri swam around him with ease, her body gliding through the water. She smiled at him, a little teasing, but her eyes held something soft, something that made him feel… vulnerable.

“You know,” she began, her voice carrying lightly across the water, “Yuma and I used to come here all the time when we were kids. We’d play in the water, splash around. It was our place to escape, to be kids together. I never minded the cold water because he’d always joke that the colder, the better. It was something we just… did.”

Jo’s chest tightened, a strange sensation moving through him. His mind instantly compared himself to Yuma. He didn’t know the guy—didn’t even want to—but hearing how close they were, how much history they shared, sent a wave of discomfort through him. It wasn’t jealousy, not in the way he had felt before. No, this was something else.

There was a part of him—whether it was his pride or some deeper insecurity—that didn’t like the idea of Eri being so comfortable with someone else. He thought back to the way Yuma’s hand had rested on her bare waist, the laughter they shared, and the casual way they interacted. It left him feeling unsettled. Why? Why did it bother him so much?Eri’s playful smirk deepened as she swam closer to him, deliberately inching just within his reach. Her eyes locked onto his, teasing, as she slid through the water with a slow, deliberate grace. She knew exactly what she was doing, what kind of effect she was having on him.

“You know,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, “you get even cuter when you’re jealous. I’m not sure why you hide it.”

Jo’s gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips. His heartbeat quickened. She was baiting him. And he was falling for it.

Before he could stop himself, before he could even think it through, Jo’s hands shot out, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. The movement was fast, driven by that sudden surge of something deep inside him that needed to close the distance between them. He pressed her against the edge of the pond, the water rippling around them both, as his grip on her waist tightened.

Eri gasped, but it wasn’t in fear. Her lips parted in a playful grin, eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned into his hold. She didn’t resist; she never did when she wanted him to act. Her fingers trailed lazily along the side of his neck, brushing his damp skin as she whispered, “Took you long enough, Jo. I was wondering how long you’d hold out.”

Jo’s breath hitched in his throat. His mind spun, caught between the burning desire to push her away and pull her closer. His grip on her waist tightened even further, pinning her against the edge of the pond, the heat of his body mingling with the coolness of the water around them. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared at her, his eyes dark with conflicting emotions.

“Don’t… don’t tease me, Eri,” Jo muttered, his voice rough, a hint of frustration slipping through. He could feel her body pressed against his, the heat of her skin against his damp chest. It was intoxicating.

Eri chuckled softly, her smile only widening as she leaned in, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “But it’s fun,” she whispered, her breath sending a shiver down his spine. “You’re so cute when you’re wound up.”

Jo’s mind was spinning with the realization of how close they were. He could feel her every breath, could smell the faint scent of her shampoo mixing with the earthy smell of the woods. He was dangerously close to breaking, to giving in to whatever this was between them, but something inside him fought to keep control, to keep his distance.

“You’re... not helping,” Jo grunted, barely managing to keep himself together as his hands slowly moved from her waist to her back, pulling her even closer. His heart raced, and for a moment, all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her. To just forget everything and lose himself in the moment.

But Eri, ever the tease, tilted her head back with a soft laugh, and for a brief second, he could see the playful sparkle in her eyes dimmed by something deeper. “Jo,” she murmured, her voice dropping an octave, “I’ve already given you all the signs. All you need to do is act on them.”

The words hung in the air between them, and it was as if the world paused. Jo’s grip on her waist tightened again, his mind screaming at him to stop. But it was already too late.

Before he could think, he leaned down and kissed her, his lips crashing into hers in a fierce, desperate rush. He didn’t care anymore. All that mattered was that she was here, pressed against him, and he couldn’t hold back.

Eri melted into the kiss, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him back just as fiercely, her body moving in sync with his. The water around them sloshed, unnoticed, as they lost themselves in the moment. She was everything he had been trying to avoid, but now, all he could think about was how right it felt to finally give in to what he had been feeling all this time.

When they finally broke apart, their breath ragged and uneven, Eri’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction, but there was something more in her gaze, something that made Jo question if he had just crossed a line they couldn’t return from.

“See?” she whispered, her voice teasing but soft. “Told you. You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Jo’s chest tightened, but this time, he didn’t feel the need to push her away. Instead, he pulled her closer, his hands tracing the curve of her back as he buried his face in her hair, letting the overwhelming rush of emotions wash over him.

Jo’s breath came out in shallow pants as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His voice was low, almost dangerous as he whispered, “You’re mine, Eri. And I’m yours. But if you ever bring up Yuma again… you’ll regret it.”

His words sent a thrill through her, a surge of something she couldn’t quite name. It made her knees weak, but she couldn’t let him have all the control. Not yet.

With a smirk playing on her lips, she leaned into him, her breath warm against his neck as she whispered Yuma’s name—slowly, teasingly—just to see how far she could push him. “Yuma,” she murmured, almost like a challenge. “Yuma, Yuma, Yuma.”

Jo’s reaction was instantaneous. His eyes darkened, a growl rising in his throat. Without warning, he bit down gently on her neck—just enough to send a shock through her body. The sudden rush of heat that shot through her made her gasp, her back arching slightly as she gripped his shoulders.

Jo pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. He didn’t break eye contact as his mouth lowered to the spot he had just bitten. His lips brushed against her skin, his breath hot against the sensitive area as he placed a kiss there, before slowly sucking, drawing out the reaction he was craving from her.

Eri gasped again, her hands instinctively sliding into his hair, fingers tugging him closer. The sensation of his mouth on her skin, the feeling of him marking her, was enough to send her head spinning. She had to admit, she loved how much he could make her feel. She loved the control he had over her, even if she refused to give in completely.

The bite on her neck was soft but possessive, and as he continued to suck gently, she felt herself falling deeper into the heat of the moment. The slow, rhythmic pull of his mouth sent waves of heat through her entire body, and the breathless gasps escaping her lips were undeniable signs of the pleasure she was feeling.

Jo pulled away slightly, his forehead pressing against hers as he kept his gaze locked on hers, not allowing her to look away. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice thick with need, “and you won’t tease me with Yuma again. Understood?”

Eri’s lips parted, and for a moment, she almost wanted to defy him again, to push him just to see how far she could take this. But she realized she wasn’t as confident as she thought she was. There was something about his grip on her, his dominance over the situation, that made her weak in the knees. His words, his touch, were all she could think about.

“Understood,” she whispered, her voice softer than she intended.

Jo’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He knew he had her, knew that she couldn’t resist him now. With a final gentle kiss to her neck, he pulled back slightly, his hands never leaving her body. "Good girl," he muttered under his breath, the words so simple but full of meaning.

Eri’s heart was still racing, her mind fogged with desire, but she couldn’t deny the way he made her feel. There was a part of her that craved the power he had over her. And right now, it felt damn good.

“Maybe I like this,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “Maybe I like you being jealous.”

Jo raised an eyebrow, the tension between them palpable as he pulled her back toward him, his hands settling on her waist once again. “You’re playing with fire, Eri,” he muttered. “But I’m not letting you burn alone.”

Jo's grip tightened on her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together, the water sloshing around them as if reacting to the intensity between them. His lips crashed into hers, hot and demanding. The world around them faded into nothingness as everything centered on the sensation of his kiss—the heat, the urgency, the way their hearts seemed to beat in sync.

Eri's hands moved instinctively, wrapping around his neck as she responded with just as much hunger, her fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, a fire igniting between them, the cold water doing little to cool the burning heat that was building.

His hands roamed down her back, pulling her even closer until she could feel the tension in his body, the way every inch of him was strung tight with desire. She let out a small gasp against his lips when he pulled her even closer, their chests pressing together, the sensation of their wet skin against each other making everything more electric.

Eri's heart raced, her breath catching in her throat as their kiss grew more frantic, as if neither one of them could get enough. Her body responded to his touch, the heat between them intensifying, and she couldn't help but melt into him, letting the moment take over completely. There was no teasing, no pulling away this time—just raw, unfiltered desire.

When Jo finally broke the kiss, they both gasped for air, their chests rising and falling as they tried to catch their breath. His eyes were dark with lust, his lips swollen from their kiss, and Eri couldn't help but smile at the sight. She knew he was just as affected by this as she was, and it made her feel like she was the only one in the world that mattered in that moment.

"You're killing me," Jo muttered, his voice hoarse as he looked down at her, his hands still resting on her waist, but this time, there was a softness to his touch, like he was trying to hold on to the last bit of control.

Eri smirked, her lips still tingling from the kiss. "You like it," she teased, her fingers brushing against the side of his jaw before trailing down his neck, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

"I do," Jo admitted, his voice low and gravelly, his gaze unwavering. "But you... you're trouble."

Eri laughed softly, her chest still heaving with the aftermath of the kiss. "Maybe I like being trouble." She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "Maybe you like it too."Jo's hands slid to her jaw, tilting her head slightly to give him better access. His lips were warm against her skin as he pressed soft kisses along her jawline. She gasped softly at the sensation, her fingers tightening in his wet hair as she leaned into him, lost in the heat of the moment.

With each kiss, his lips traveled lower, teasing the sensitive skin on her neck. He found the spot just beneath her ear, the one that made her shiver every time, and he kissed it gently at first before his lips parted to suck on the tender skin, drawing a soft moan from her.

Eri's breath hitched as she felt the pressure of his mouth on her neck, the combination of heat, water, and the raw intensity between them making everything more overwhelming. Her fingers traced the outline of his jaw, her pulse racing as his lips continued their path down her neck, sucking and nibbling, marking her with each tender but possessive touch.

"Jo..." She whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her hands pressing against his chest as if to steady herself, though she didn’t want him to stop. The heat that had been building between them, the tension of his earlier proclamation, had only intensified with every passing second.

He pulled away just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire, and then his lips were back on her neck, more insistent this time. He sucked gently at the same spot, his hands sliding down to her hips as he held her close, his mouth leaving trails of fire on her skin.

Eri let out a soft gasp, the sensation of him marking her sending shivers through her body. She didn't want him to stop—everything about this moment felt too perfect, too right. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he continued to kiss and suck on her neck, each movement more possessive than the last.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips swollen, his breath ragged as he gazed at the marks he'd left on her skin. Eri’s fingers lingered on her neck where he'd kissed her, the heat of his touch still lingering. She could feel the soft pulse of her heartbeat, her chest rising and falling in time with it.

Jo's eyes softened just slightly as he stared at her, his hand brushing a stray lock of wet hair away from her face. "You're mine now," he whispered, his voice rough, but there was a tenderness beneath it that made her heart race.

Eri smiled, her fingers tracing the marks on her neck with a playful glint in her eye. "I think I might like that," she teased, the smugness clear in her tone. "But we'll see, won't we?"

Jo's gaze hardened again, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned in once more, his lips grazing hers briefly before he whispered against them, "We’ll see."

In that moment, neither of them needed to say more. The connection between them was undeniable, and as the water continued to lap around them, all that mattered was the world they'd created in that quiet pond.

That's it for this onee!

It turned out a little more hot then I originally planned. 😩

I hope y'all enjoyed it 🥹

A/n: I got the inspo and knew I had to write it quick, or else I'd completely forget it because of my gold fish memory.

Genre: Fluff, romance, strangers-to-lovers, love-at-first-sight

Pairings: Fashion designer!Yuma x Kimono artisan!Ayane (fem oc)

Warnings: major romance and fluff incoming.

Ayane hadn’t planned to come. Not really.

But Nicholas had called her that morning with his usual over-the-top energy.

“Ayane, you’re coming, right? Don’t leave me alone with these fashion zombies.”

She had laughed, smoothing the folds of a vintage yukata on a mannequin at the shop.

“You’ll be surrounded by models, stylists, and musicians. You’ll survive.”

“Exactly my point. I need someone real.”

And Ayane was real — painfully so, in a place like this. She stood now at the edge of the balcony, drink in hand, the city buzzing far below. The soft breeze tugged at her hair and the delicate hem of her navy silk dress. It wasn’t trendy, not by Tokyo standards — sleeveless with a gentle sheen, cinched with a silk tie at the waist, paired with simple white heels and a vintage clutch she’d borrowed from her mother. She hadn’t dressed to impress. She dressed to feel like herself.

Her university friend had promised to come with her. But due to a last-minute cancellation, she was here — alone, sipping something bubbly that she didn’t really like.

Until someone stepped up beside her.

“Mutuals without backup?” came a low voice to her right — amused, a little dry. “I think that deserves a toast.”

She turned, surprised.

He looked like he belonged here — tall, sharp features, his outfit stylish in a way that didn’t try too hard. A loose silk shirt, dark slacks, sleeves rolled up. Effortless. But his smile wasn’t the kind you put on for a party. It was quiet. Curious.

She blinked, then smiled faintly. “You’re not trying to flirt with me, are you?”

He chuckled, raising his glass slightly. “Not unless it’s working.”

Ayane laughed under her breath. “It’s not.”

“Good,” he said. “Too many people here already are.”

She took a sip of her drink, side-eying him. “You know Nicholas?”

“Birthday boy?” He nodded. “Yeah. Kind of a work-friend. You?”

“I’ve known him since he was fifteen and couldn’t tie an obi to save his life.”

That made him grin. “Wait. You’re that Ayane?”

She raised a brow. “I didn’t know I was a that anything.”

He leaned on the railing beside her, thoughtful. “He mentioned you earlier. Said you make kimonos. That you’re cooler than half the people here and that we'd get along.”

She gave him a look. “That doesn’t sound like Nicholas.”

“Okay, fine. He said you’d balance the energy.” He paused. “I think he meant that in a good way.”

Ayane smiled. “I’ll take it.”

They stood for a moment, the buzz of the rooftop behind them and Tokyo’s lights flickering far below.

“I like your outfit,” he said after a beat. “It’s quiet, but it says a lot.”

She glanced at him, a little caught off guard. “What does it say?"

“That you know who you are,” he replied, then shrugged. “Most people here dress like they’re trying to prove something.”

Her expression softened. “Well… when you grow up surrounded by silk and tradition, you learn early on what feels like yours.”

He turned to her. “You work in fashion, too?”

“Not quite. I restore kimonos. And design new ones, sort of modern hybrids,” she said. “Trying to keep the culture moving without erasing it.”

He looked genuinely interested. “That’s… really cool."

“What about you?” she asked.

“I design clothes, too,” he said. “But I think I’m chasing something newer. Stuff that doesn’t exist yet.”

She hummed. “Maybe that’s why Nicholas thought we’d get along.”

“Or maybe,” he said, smiling, “he just knew we’d be the only two ditched tonight.”

Ayane laughed, and it felt lighter than anything she’d felt all evening.

“That, too.”

Beside her, the stranger — not really a stranger now — smiled. He chuckled softly, the kind that came from genuine amusement, not performance.

Then he paused. His smile didn’t fade, but it settled into something gentler, quieter. He turned slightly, offering his hand.

“I’m Yuma.”

She looked at him, then his hand, then back at him — and smiled.

“Ayane,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “Nice to meet you.”

Their hands lingered for a second too long before parting. Yuma’s gaze held hers, warm and steady.

“Ayane,” he repeated, like he was trying it out in his mouth. Then, a small smile curled at the edge of his lips. “It suits you. Calm, soft. Kind of like your whole vibe.”

Ayane raised an eyebrow, a playful spark in her eye. “Are you saying I look calm and soft?”

He laughed. “I’m saying you feel like a quiet song in a loud room.”

She blinked at that — surprised, maybe even a little thrown.

But her smile didn’t falter.

“That’s either the smoothest thing I’ve ever heard,” she murmured, “or the strangest.”

“Can it be both?” Yuma asked, and they both laughed again.

“Sure,” she said, still smiling.

Yuma glanced out toward the edge of the rooftop, then back at her. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “It’s pretty breezy up here.”

Ayane shook her head, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I like it,” she replied. “It’s kind of suffocating inside.”

He smiled at that — a small, knowing thing — before taking a step back. For a moment, she thought he was going to leave.

But instead, he turned and walked right back to her side, settling beside her again with his hands in his pockets.

She blinked. “You’re staying?”

“Is that not allowed?” he teased, giving her a side glance.

She laughed under her breath, shaking her head once more.

Yuma looked out at the cityscape — the stretch of neon signs, the blinking red towers, the quiet rhythm of traffic below.

“Tokyo’s beautiful,” he said after a pause, voice a little softer now. “But sometimes… I miss my hometown.”

Ayane turned toward him slightly. “You’re not from Tokyo?”

He chuckled, eyes still on the skyline. “I might look like a natural city boy, but no. I’m from Hyogo.”

Her eyes lit up with surprise. “Oh? We’re neighbors then.”

He looked at her, interest flickering in his expression. “Yeah? Where are you from?”

“Kyoto,” she answered with a small smile.

Yuma tilted his head, as if something had just clicked. “That actually makes so much sense.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Should I be flattered or offended?”

“Flattered,” he said, without missing a beat. “You carry yourself like tradition, but with something different. Something a little new.”

Ayane felt a warmth bloom quietly in her chest, but she didn’t look away.

“Coming from a fashion designer, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he said softly.

“When I’m free,” Yuma said, glancing at her with a soft smile, “I’ll come for a visit.”

Ayane chuckled, her fingers brushing the rim of her glass. “You’re always welcome.”

He turned to face her more fully, the city lights painting soft lines across his cheek. “Okay, important question,” he said, suddenly playful. “Are you a dog person or a cat person?”

She laughed. “I actually love both. I can never pick.”

Yuma’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “People always say I look like a cat, but I’m a total dog person.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a beat. “You do have cat-like features,” she mused. “The eyes, especially.”

He raised a brow, clearly amused. “Should I be flattered or offended?”

“Flattered,” she echoed his earlier line, grinning.

He chuckled, then leaned a little closer. “Okay, your turn.”

She tapped her lip in thought. “Matcha or green tea?”

“Green tea,” he said, no hesitation. “You?”

“Green tea,” she answered, smiling.

Yuma’s eyes lit up and he held out his fist toward her. “Cheers to that.”

She laughed and bumped his fist gently with her own.

“I honestly thought you’d say matcha,” he added, still grinning. “You’re from Kyoto. And you have a kimono business. It just… fits.”

Ayane chuckled, looking off for a second before meeting his eyes again. “I get that a lot, actually. But bottled green tea’s always been my favorite since I was a kid.”

“Same,” he said, his smile softening. “Convenience store green tea and konbini onigiri were basically my love language growing up.”

They both laughed at that, the sound easy and unforced, like they’d known each other longer than just a few minutes.

And for a moment, the party behind them faded into nothing but murmurs and music as they stood on the edge of something quietly unfolding.

The night stretched gently around them, not in a rush to end. The city buzzed below, muted by the altitude and the quiet comfort that had formed between them.

Their conversation drifted like a lazy river — soft turns and unexpected corners, flowing easily.

They talked about food, first — from the best tamagoyaki stalls in random train stations to the childhood snacks they still secretly bought when no one was watching.

“You’ve never tried the melon bread from that place near the Sumida line?” Yuma asked, eyes wide.

"No, never." She answered.

Yuma gasped in mock horror. “I’m offended on behalf of Tokyo.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, giggling. “Next time I come, you’re buying me one.”

“Deal,” he grinned. “But only if you bring one of those hand fans you mentioned. I wanna see if it actually looks as pretty as you made it sound.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “I didn’t say it was pretty. I said it was detailed.”

“Same thing,” he said with a shrug.

Their laughter tangled like thread — soft and overlapping, the kind of laughter that left cheeks aching in the best way. A quiet bubble had formed around them, even as people buzzed by, music thumping faintly behind glass doors.

At one point, Yuma gestured toward the skyline. “I always used to think Tokyo would feel overwhelming,” he said. “But sometimes, nights like this… it just feels big enough to hold new beginnings.”

Ayane turned to look at him, something quiet flickering in her eyes. “That’s really poetic for a dog person.”

He laughed, cheeks flushing slightly. “Don’t tell Nicholas. He’ll never let it go.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely telling Nicholas,” she teased.

More giggles followed. Light, effortless. The kind of sound you didn’t realize you missed until it filled the air again.

And somewhere between her adjusting her dress

and him brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve, Ayane realized she wasn’t cold anymore.

Not even a little.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

After a while, Ayane glanced at the time on her phone — and gasped softly.

“Oh no,” she muttered, shifting her weight and tucking her phone away. “I have to go.”

She didn’t notice the way Yuma’s face faltered for a brief moment, the small crease in his brow or how his smile wavered just slightly. But he recovered quickly, turning toward her with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“What?” he said, leaning against the railing. “Is Cinderella scared she won’t make it home before midnight?”

She laughed, her shoulders relaxing for a second. “No. Cinderella’s just scared she’ll miss her train.”

“A fate worse than turning into a pumpkin,” he nodded solemnly.

Ayane smiled as she adjusted the strap of her bag. The city lights glittered behind her, brushing the outline of her profile in gold. It felt almost unfair — how natural this had felt, how easy.

“I should go,” she said again, almost reluctantly this time.

Yuma tilted his head, watching her. “Will you be alright getting home?”

She nodded. “I’ve done the last train sprint before. It builds character.”

That made him chuckle. “I’m glad Nicholas ditched us.”

She met his gaze then, pausing. Her smile softened. “Me too.”

They looked at each other for a quiet beat — no noise, no pressure, just a gentle calm suspended in the space between them.

Their smiles lingered, soft and sure, something unspoken blooming quietly beneath the surface.

“I’m really happy we met,” Ayane said, voice low but steady, carried by the breeze.

Yuma’s smile deepened, warm and real as he nodded. “Me too.”

She gave him one last look — eyes bright, cheeks slightly pink from the wind or maybe something else — then turned with a gentle, “Bye.”

He stayed there, leaning against the railing as she stepped back inside through the glass door.

The moment stretched, thinner now without her presence beside him.

There was a strange lightness in his chest… and a quiet ache beneath it.

She hadn’t felt like a stranger. Not even for a second.

Talking to her had been effortless — no need to pretend, no pressure to impress. Just two people, drawn together by chance and good timing.

She was unlike anyone he’d met before — grounded but curious, soft-spoken but quietly confident. There was something about her… something simple and solid and easy to want more of.

And now she was gone.

Through the glass, he watched her rejoin the party. Her posture relaxed as she found Nicholas, greeting him with a warm hug and a shared laugh. They talked for a moment — too short, he thought — before she dipped her head, said something he couldn’t hear, and walked away after bidding goodbye.

Yuma didn’t move. Not right away.

The warmth of her presence still lingered beside him, mixed with the soft city breeze.

Would he see her again?

Would he ever meet someone quite like her again?

And as her silhouette disappeared into the soft lights and deeper shadows, Yuma’s mind — and somewhere quieter, deeper — asked:

Will I regret just letting her go?

Yuma’s mind reeled, thoughts crashing and overlapping like waves in the dark.

What if he stopped her?

Would she laugh? Awkwardly tell him it was nice meeting him but she had a train to catch? Would she politely brush him off — a stranger she shared a balcony with for a little too long?

They didn’t even know each other that well. A few drinks, a few jokes, a couple of shared smiles — it wasn’t much. But it felt like much.

Was he ready to be rejected?

Was he ready for the sting of watching her eyes dim, her expression soften with sympathy as she turned him down?

But what if—what if she didn’t?

What if she smiled the way she just had and said, “I was hoping you'd stop me”?

What if she said yes?

What if this — whatever this was — turned into something real?

What if she never wanted to see him again?

What if he let her walk out and spent the rest of the week, month, year, wondering what might have happened if he’d just said something?

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes still fixed through the balcony door where the echo of her laughter still seemed to hum in the air.

Was she worth it?

His chest tightened. His heart already knew the answer.

He smiled, shaking his head slightly as a quiet chuckle left his lips — more to himself than anyone else.

“What am I thinking?” he murmured under his breath, eyes flicking once more to the door. “She’s definitely the one.”

Yuma let out a short, breathless laugh and glanced down at his watch. The hands were creeping toward the last train—too close for comfort.

Without a second thought, he pushed off from the balcony railing, tugged open the door, and sprinted into the party room. He could hear the thump of music and chatter fading behind him as he scanned for the stairwell.

“Yuma! Where are you going?” Nicholas called after him, darting into view just as Yuma passed.

“To get Cinderella!” Yuma shouted over his shoulder, flashing a grin before he rammed down the stairs two at a time. His heart hammered in his chest, and adrenaline coursed through his veins as each step brought him closer to catching up with her.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Ayane walked briskly toward the station, heels dangling from her fingers, the cool pavement a slight relief to her sore feet. The air was chilly, brushing against her bare shoulders, but she didn’t mind. It grounded her, cleared the fuzziness in her head left behind by music, laughter, and the memory of his smile.

She should’ve stayed longer, maybe. But staying meant hoping, and hoping was dangerous.

Still…

She couldn’t help but think of him — Yuma. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the calm cadence of his voice, the easy rhythm of their conversation. How she hadn’t needed to try so hard. How he made her feel—seen, heard, light.

A small chuckle escaped her lips.

“Get a grip, Ayane,” she whispered to herself. “You just met him.”

But the regret was there, tucked beneath each step. Not heavy, just… real. Tangible. She hadn’t felt that kind of ease in a long time, and now it was gone as quickly as it came.

Her fingers curled slightly around her heels as she sighed.

“If he wanted to…” she murmured aloud, eyes on the sidewalk. “He would.”

And even if he didn’t — even if he let her go without a second thought — it was okay.

Because he had still been kind, and warm, and real.

And Yuma… Yuma was an experience worth experiencing.

She was halfway across the street, just steps from the station entrance, when she heard it—loud, breathless, and completely impossible to ignore.

“Ayane! Oi! Cinderella!”

She froze.

Her heart stuttered, then fluttered, as if it knew before her mind could process. Slowly, cautiously—almost afraid it wasn’t real—she turned.

And there he was.

Yuma.

Sprinting toward her, slightly winded, but grinning like he’d just won something. Like she was the prize.

Her lips parted in disbelief, eyes wide and shimmering beneath the streetlights. And then—her smile bloomed, soft and bright, brilliant as morning sunlight on water. A hand rose to her chest instinctively, like she needed to make sure her heart hadn’t leapt out already.

He was really here.

And he was really smiling at her.

She didn’t say anything yet, too stunned to speak. But her eyes said everything.

You came.

You found me.

You ran after me.

He finally reached her, just a few steps away now, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His hair was a little messy, cheeks flushed from the run, but his eyes were only on her.

Still smiling.

“Okay,” he exhaled with a short laugh, straightening up. “If you don’t mind me asking…” His voice was still breathy, still warm. “Can I maybe… have your number? So we could maybe… get to know each other more?”

Her heart fluttered so hard she was almost convinced he could hear it.

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes, pretending to think as she tapped her chin with a finger. “And what does ‘getting to know each other more’ exactly mean?” she asked, trying to hold back a smile.

Yuma chuckled, his eyes narrowing in amused fondness as he stepped closer.

“It means,” he said, voice low and sure, “I want to take you out to dinner.”

And just like that—her heart melted.

Her smile lingered as she looked up at him through her lashes, heart doing somersaults in her chest.

“What if…” she paused, lips curling ever so slightly, “I say yes?”

For a moment, Yuma felt his world slow down.

The sound of the street faded. The late-night breeze, the glow of the streetlights, even the ache in his legs from running—all disappeared. It was just her. Her voice. Her eyes. Her.

He exhaled softly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a sheepish, earnest smile as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Then I’d give you my phone,” he said, offering it to her with an unsure but hopeful look, “so we could exchange numbers. And maybe until we could meet up again for the said dinner… I’d call you every night. Just to make sure you haven’t lost interest in me yet.”

Her heart squeezed. He was genuine. Nervous. Hopeful.

Without a second thought, she smiled—bright, wide, and beautiful—and took the phone from his hands.

She swore… she swore she saw stars spark in his eyes the moment her fingers touched the screen.

She handed his phone back, their fingers brushing for a second longer than necessary. Neither of them pulled away.

They stood there for a beat, just staring—soft smiles, fluttering hearts, eyes speaking in quiet languages they hadn’t even learned yet.

“I should probably—” she began, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the station.

But before she could finish, the distant whistle of the train echoed through the quiet night.

Her mouth dropped open. His eyes widened.

They looked at each other, realization hitting at the same time.

“You didn’t…” he started.

“I did,” she said with a dramatic gasp.

And then they both burst into laughter, loud and warm, echoing through the still night like something straight out of a movie.

As their laughter died down to soft chuckles and lingering smiles, Yuma held out his hand to her.

“7/11?”

She glanced at his hand, then up at his eyes—still sparkling from the laughter, still soft from the moment.

She chuckled, sliding her hand into his.

“7/11,” she repeated with a grin.

That's it for this one!

Omg, I loved writing this so much! Funny enough, I got the inspo for this after listening to the La La Land soundtracks.

I hope y'all enjoyed it 🥹

A/n: Another short one. She's a monster's daughter and he's her bodyguard/ dad's minion??

Tell me if you want more of Bodyguard!Yuma

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comfort

Pairings: Bodyguard!Yuma x Mob daughter!Ayane

Warnings: none

Ayane sat slouched on the velvet couch, chin in hand, glaring at the same gilded curtains she’d been staring at for the past hour. The house was quiet, too quiet, except for the occasional creak of the floorboards or the low hum of the men patrolling outside. Her father’s rules were simple: she didn’t leave unless escorted, she didn’t talk to strangers, and she most certainly didn’t get to “wander.” Which left her days a cycle of nothing.

Yuma leaned against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed, ever the silent shadow. She threw him a look, half pout, half challenge.

“I’m bored,” she huffed.

He didn’t answer at first, just raised a brow like he always did when she complained. But then, without a word, he dug into his pocket and held something out to her.

It was a tiny, glossy cat figurine — the kind that came with her favorite candies. Her breath caught. She had tried for weeks to get this exact one but always pulled duplicates.

Her eyes flicked to his, surprised. “Wait… how?”

Yuma shrugged, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Took a pack from the convenience store last night. Got lucky.”

“You stole it?” she gasped, though her lips curled despite herself.

He gave a nonchalant tilt of his head. “Figured it was worth it.”

Still staring at the cat in her palm, Ayane whispered, “...You remembered?”

He leaned just slightly closer, voice low but teasing. “It’s literally my job to remember everything about you.”

Something in her chest softened at that. She looked up at him, smiling, the kind of smile she didn’t even realize she’d been holding back for weeks.

Yuma chuckled at the sight, and before she could react, he reached out and gently tapped her nose with his finger.

“Boop.”

She blinked, startled, then laughed — really laughed, for the first time in days. And Yuma, still grinning, leaned back against the wall like nothing had happened, though the warmth in his eyes lingered.

Ayane turned the little figurine over in her hand, tracing its smooth edges with her thumb. She could feel the corners of her mouth tugging upward again, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. It was silly, just a toy from a candy, but the fact that he remembered…

She shook her head with a faint laugh. “I never really expected you to actually listen to me.”

Yuma tilted his head, eyes flicking from her hand to her face. Then he smiled — not the sharp, guarded grin he gave others, but something quieter, softer, one that lingered like he was trying to hold back the truth of it.

“Talk how much you want,” he said, his voice carrying that steady calm she had grown used to. “At the end of the day, your talks—” he let out a small chuckle, almost under his breath, “—they’re intrusive. But they… interest me.”

Ayane’s lips parted slightly at that. Of all the things she thought he’d say — the man who so often answered her questions with silence or a clipped response — this wasn’t one of them.

“Intrusive?” she echoed, brows knitting.

He nodded once. “You… slip past places you shouldn’t. My head, my guard, my quiet. You ask and prod and fill the silence until it’s not mine anymore. But—” his gaze softened, holding hers steady, “—I don’t mind it. Not when it’s you.”

Ayane swallowed, heat rushing up her cheeks at the weight of his words. For a second she didn’t know what to do with her hands, her breath, her heart. She just clutched the tiny cat tighter, as though it could anchor her.

“...You’re not supposed to say things like that,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, though she wasn’t sure if she meant for his sake or hers.

Yuma’s grin grew faintly crooked, almost teasing, but his eyes didn’t waver. “Maybe not. But you wanted me to listen. And I did.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was warm, charged, threaded with something she couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to let go of. For the first time in a long while, Ayane didn’t feel bored. She felt… seen.

Ayane tilted her head at him, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. He held her gaze for a beat, then, without warning, leaned forward and tapped her nose again.

“Boop.”

She let out an unexpected chuckle, scrunching her nose as she adjusted the fur coat draped over her shoulders, pulling it tighter around herself. Somehow the warmth that spread through her had little to do with the coat.

She glanced up at him, eyes shining with something she couldn’t name. “Can I keep talking forever?”

Yuma’s mouth curved into a low chuckle, one that rumbled in his chest as he dipped his chin. “Mm. Even in the afterlife.”

Her breath caught, but then laughter bubbled out of her, light and free, mingling with his own. For a moment, it felt like the walls, the guards, the rules—all of it—had melted away, leaving only the two of them in their little bubble.

They looked at each other, grins stretching wide, as though sharing a secret no one else in the world could understand.

That's it for this one!!

I don't know if it made sense but I hope it did 😭

I hope y'all liked it 🥹

A/n: This might just be the longest fic I've ever done. I liked how it turned out 🥹🤍

Genre: Fantasy au, Werewolf au, Romance, a little bit of angst, fluff

Pairings: Werewolf!K x Mermaid!Kaori (fem oc)

Warnings: not much, just a little bit angsty at some parts.

In a town nestled between forested mountains and the vast, whispering sea, lived a small but vibrant community. It was the kind of place where the supernatural wasn’t whispered about—it was celebrated. Werewolves made up the majority, their pack-oriented nature shaping much of the town’s traditions. But mermaids, though rarer, had found their place too—working beside wolves to keep peace and charm within the town.

Kaori had always kept to the edges. A mermaid girl with long black locks and dark-blue eyes, she had a softness to her that made her seem almost ethereal. She lived with her aunt near the beachside cliffs and volunteered for nearly every community event, hoping—maybe foolishly—that one day he would notice.

K.

The town’s heartthrob. A werewolf with tousled dark hair, sharp amber eyes, and a smile that left trails of flustered sighs in his wake. He was warm, charming, helpful to everyone—and painfully unaware of the crushes trailing behind him like lovesick shadows. Kaori was just one of many admirers, but unlike the others, she had never dared speak more than a handful of words to him.

It didn’t help that being a mermaid didn’t exactly win popularity points. The werewolf girls adored K and weren’t subtle about it either. Kaori had watched them crowd around him at bonfires and festivals, laughing just a little too hard at his jokes.

She didn’t blame them. He was magnetic.

But still, she couldn’t help but wish—just a little—that maybe he’d look at her the way she looked at him.

Preparations for the annual Winter Dance had begun. The town hall, usually reserved for council meetings and birthday parties, was being transformed into a glowing wonderland. Strings of lights, garlands of white and silver, glittering snowflake cutouts—it was all coming together.

Kaori sat cross-legged in a corner of the hall, a pile of satin ribbons in her lap. She twisted one gently, her fingers skilled in folding them into delicate rose shapes. Beside her sat Haru, her closest (and possibly only) real friend in town—a fellow mermaid with coral-dyed tips and a blunt way of saying things.

“Another perfect rose,” Haru commented, tossing her a teasing glance. “You trying to impress someone?”

Kaori didn’t answer, eyes flicking toward the other end of the hall where K was helping hang lights. His sweater sleeves were pushed up, revealing strong forearms dusted with glitter, and he was laughing at something the town elder said.

“Kaori,” Haru said, voice low and firm, “you’ve got to say something. You can’t just keep making ribbon roses and hoping he telepathically gets the message.”

Kaori sighed. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, K, want to go to the dance with a mermaid who’s too nervous to even say hi properly?’”

“Better than saying nothing at all,” Haru shrugged. “You don’t make a move, someone else will. That werewolf girl, Mina? She’s already planning to ask him. With a glitter heart and everything.”

Kaori’s heart sank a little. But she kept folding the ribbon. Rose after rose, silent and steady.

“C’mon,” Haru said gently. “You’ve got magic in you. Not just mermaid magic. Real, heart-stopping, Kaori magic. He’d be lucky to see it.”

Across the hall, K looked up.

His eyes met Kaori’s.

And for a moment—just one—he smiled.

Haru caught the smile too. Her brow lifted, smug and knowing.

“See? He so likes you.”

Kaori blinked and looked away quickly, pretending to fuss with the folds of her ribbon rose. “Haru, he smiles at everyone. And he says hi to everyone. That’s just K. He’s… nice.”

“He’s not that nice,” Haru scoffed. “He’s charming, sure, but he doesn’t go out of his way for everyone. Remember when he carried your whole box of seashells last summer just because you dropped one?”

Kaori stayed silent, her fingers folding slower now.

Haru leaned in closer, her tone softening. “Look. I’d rather see him end up alone than with someone not you. You’ve been in love with him since we were kids. Even when you didn’t say it, I knew. You’ve always looked at him like he hung the stars.”

Kaori’s heart twisted.

“And I know he’s got that ‘golden boy’ thing going on,” Haru added, “but he’s real. He’s kind. He’s the kind of guy who sees people. And you—you always hide. He won’t know unless you let him.”

Kaori let out a quiet breath, folding another rose and placing it in the finished pile. “It’s just a crush, Haru. And that’s all it’ll ever be. He’s… too perfect. And I’m just—me.”

But before Haru could respond, a voice as sharp as icicles cut through the moment.

“So~ the Winter Dance is coming.”

Both girls froze.

Mina—clad in designer boots, her wavy hair cascading down her back like a shampoo commercial—approached with the grace of a predator. Her crimson lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she plopped down beside them, legs crossed.

“I’ll have you two know,” she said, brushing invisible lint from her fur-lined coat, “K is mine.”

Kaori blinked. “K?”

Mina’s smile widened, clearly enjoying herself. “Mm-hmm. I’m asking him to the dance. And he won’t say no.”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a sugar-coated sneer. “So you two fishes better not get in my way.”

Kaori’s heart pounded in her chest. Haru’s jaw tightened, her hand clenched around a ribbon. But they said nothing.

And Mina just sat there, satisfied, as if she’d already won.

Haru didn’t even blink before snapping back, “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, actually helping instead of disrupting our chore?”

Mina raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Relax. I was just being friendly.”

“Right,” Haru said dryly, “because threats sound so friendly.”

“And anyway,” she added, folding another ribbon rose with a sharp twist, “it’s not like K will say yes.”

Mina scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

With a final smug smirk, she turned and strutted away, heels clicking like punctuation marks against the wooden floor of the town hall.

Kaori let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “She’s so insufferable…”

“I know,” Haru sighed and patted her thigh gently. “But she’s asking him, Kaori. Whether you like it or not. You have to make a move soon.”

Kaori looked down at her half-finished ribbon rose, the petals blurry at the edges. “I… don’t even know what to say to him.”

“Start with hi, maybe?” Haru teased gently, bumping her shoulder.

Before Kaori could respond, the air shifted—the kind of shift you feel before a storm or something important. A warm scent of pine and salt lingered faintly in the air.

Then—

“Hey.”

Kaori jumped slightly.

K had plopped down beside her, just like that, casual and warm and impossibly close. His smile was soft as he greeted them both. “Hey Haru, Kaori.”

“H-Hey,” Kaori stammered, trying to make her voice sound normal.

K reached into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a small handful of delicate, pale shells, glinting softly in the light.

“I went for a run at the beach yesterday,” he said, looking at Kaori with a small, almost boyish smile. “Found these. Thought you might wanna add them to your collection.”

Kaori stared, mouth slightly open, as he held them out to her in his palm.

Shells. For her.

Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure Haru could hear it too.

Kaori gently took the shells from his palm, her fingers barely brushing his, but it was enough to make her heart leap to her throat. They were beautiful—smooth, pastel-toned, with delicate spirals and tiny specks that shimmered like sea glass.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Haru, of course, couldn’t resist. “Wait, how’d you know she has a collection?”

K let out a soft laugh, his canines just barely showing. “Come on, I’ve known forever.”

Kaori looked up, startled. “You… have?”

“Yeah,” he said with an easy grin. “Back in middle school, I used to walk home through the cliffs. I’d see you and your mom down at the shore almost every day after school, picking shells and humming songs. You’d hold them up to the sun like they were little treasures.”

His gaze was soft now, nostalgic, sincere.

“I always thought it was cool,” he added, “how you saw beauty in the small things.”

Kaori’s heart skipped a beat—then maybe another.

Haru’s eyes practically glowed with excitement as she nudged Kaori none-too-subtly with her elbow, then turned to K with an innocent smile.

“Soooo,” she said, dragging the word out with practiced casualness, “have a date yet? For the dance, I mean.”

K blinked, then gave a lazy shrug, running a hand through his hair.

“Nope. Not yet.”

Kaori looked down quickly, pretending to smooth out her skirt, hoping he couldn’t see the flush rising on her cheeks.

K glanced between the two girls, his brows lifting slightly with curiosity.

“What about you guys? Got dates yet?”

Haru grinned. “I do. I’m going with Aki from the flower shop.”

K nodded with a small smile. “Nice. He’s a good guy.”

Then his eyes shifted to Kaori.

She froze, her fingers suddenly very interested in rearranging the shells in her lap. Slowly, she shook her head.

“No,” she said softly.

Before K could respond, Haru chimed in—because of course she did.

“She didn’t even wanna come, actually.”

Kaori gave her a look, but Haru just smiled sweetly, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.

K’s expression shifted into genuine surprise. “Wait—what? Why not?? It’s literally one of the most fun events we have in town.”

Kaori chewed her bottom lip and gave a weak shrug. “I don’t know. I guess… it just feels like it’s not really for people like me.”

K tilted his head, brows furrowing. “People like you?”

Haru shot Kaori a subtle look—see? now you’ve done it—but Kaori stayed quiet, heart racing under his gaze.

And K looked at her like she’d just spoken a language he didn’t understand.

K looked genuinely confused for a second, then said, “Kaori, what are you even talking about?”

She glanced at him, one brow slightly raised.

“You do know you’re literally placed number one in the beauty tally, right?” he said, casual like it was common knowledge.

Kaori blinked, then sighed. “Oh… that old thing?”

Haru snorted. “You knew about it?”

“Of course I did,” Kaori replied, continuing to arrange the shells in her palm. “My mom told me once. Said the elders had too much time on their hands.”

K laughed, clearly amused. “You don’t think it’s flattering?”

Kaori shrugged, her voice calm. “Not really. Feels like I’m being watched and ranked for something I didn’t ask for.”

Haru gave a little hum. “Yeah, but still. Number one is number one.”

“She beat Mina by a landslide,” K added with a grin. “That’s gotta count for something.”

Kaori gave him a dry look. “Which probably explains why Mina wants to drown me half the time.”

K leaned a little closer, his smile softening. “You’re a mermaid, Kaori. You wouldn’t drown anyway.”

The way he said it—gentle, teasing, almost protective—made Kaori’s chest warm in a way she didn’t expect. Her fingers stilled on the shells, and for a moment, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

Haru, ever the observer, smirked knowingly but said nothing as the air around them settled into something quiet… and a little heavier.

Across the hall, a couple of voices called out—someone from the committee waving K over to help with moving the light stands.

K looked in their direction, then back at the girls with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls.”

He stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. But before he turned away, he paused and looked directly at Kaori.

Then, with a gentle touch, he reached over and gave her a soft pat on the head—fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Rethink your choice, okay?” he said quietly, his tone warm but firm. “I don’t want you to miss out.”

Kaori blinked, startled by the tenderness in his voice.

And just like that, he was gone—walking off with that easy stride of his, slipping back into the center of attention like it was second nature.

Kaori sat there, her heart doing this slow, fluttery flip that made her breath catch.

Haru let out a low whistle next to her. “Girl…”

Kaori didn’t answer. She was too busy replaying that soft pat and those words over and over in her head.

Kaori still hadn’t moved.

Haru gave her a long look before nudging her knee with her own. “You okay over there?”

Kaori finally exhaled, her gaze still lingering where K had just been. “He… patted my head.”

“Yes,” Haru said slowly, “and told you not to miss out. Which is, in boy language, basically a love confession.”

Kaori scoffed, a light flush coloring her cheeks. “It is not.”

Haru raised a brow. “Kaori. He brought you seashells he remembered you liked since childhood. Said people notice you. Pat your head. Said he doesn’t want you to miss out. What do you think he meant?”

Kaori looked down at the shells in her hand again, silent.

“I swear, if you keep brushing this off, I’ll ask him for you,” Haru threatened, only half joking.

Kaori groaned, finally cracking a small, helpless smile. “Don’t you dare.”

Haru smirked. “Then do something. Before Mina sinks her claws in.”

Kaori sighed, her smile lingering as she softly traced the edge of a shell with her thumb. “He’s just... too good to be true.”

Haru gave her a knowing look. “Maybe he’s just good for you.”

The sun had dipped low by the time the decorating wrapped up, casting a golden glow over the small town. People were starting to head home, laughter and chatter still echoing faintly through the crisp air.

Haru had left halfway through—her mom had called, urgently needing help at the supermarket. Kaori had waved her off with a smile, promising to walk home alone.

Now, with the streets quieter and her steps unhurried, Kaori found herself passing the little boutique near the town square. A small group of young girls, no older than ten or eleven, were gathered at the window display, squealing and pointing excitedly at the mannequins.

“Look at that one! The blue one with sparkles!”

“I’m gonna wear that when I go to the winter dance one day!”

“Nooo, I’m wearing it! You can have the pink one!”

Their voices were filled with unfiltered joy, their eyes shining with dreams and sugarplum fantasies.

Kaori smiled softly, her steps slowing. Her gaze drifted to the dresses behind the glass—frosted blues, soft pinks, flowing whites. All magical in their own way.

Once upon a time, she and Haru had done the same. They used to press their faces to this very window, giggling as they imagined themselves in those dresses, spinning under twinkling lights with boys they hadn’t even met yet.

Well… maybe not completely unknown.

Kaori had always pictured him.

K.

Even back then, before the height and the muscles and the jawline that could cut stone—he had still been K. With his crooked smile and bright laugh and warm voice that always made her heart do something weird in her chest.

She exhaled, watching the fog of her breath melt into the cold evening air.

Maybe that dream hadn’t faded as much as she thought.

Maybe it had just been waiting… quietly.

She was still staring at the display, lost in memories, when she heard it—

“Kaori!”

Her head snapped up.

Across the street, framed by the soft glow of the streetlamps, K was waving at her, his familiar smile lighting up his face. He jogged over, his breath fogging slightly in the chilly air.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he said as he caught up, slightly breathless but still smiling. “Figured you’d already left.”

Kaori blinked, her heart giving that now-too-familiar stutter. “I was just… walking slowly, I guess.”

K glanced at the boutique window and the girls still chattering by it. “Dream dress shopping?” he teased gently.

She smiled, a bit shy. “Something like that.”

He looked back at her. “We should walk together. We’re neighbors, remember?” His grin widened. “Might as well keep each other company before Mina hunts me down again.”

Kaori chuckled, looking down for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”

They started walking side by side, the air quiet around them except for the crunch of their footsteps and the distant laughter from town.

He didn’t say much at first, just occasionally glanced at her with a quiet smile, like her presence was enough.

And Kaori… well, her heart was doing all the talking she couldn’t.

The night air grew colder as they walked, a sharp breeze sweeping down the narrow street and rustling Kaori’s hair around her face. She shivered before she could stop herself, arms instinctively wrapping around her own body.

K noticed instantly.

Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, the warmth of it still clinging to his scent—earthy pine, clean air, and something distinctly him. Before she could even protest, his arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her into his side with an ease that made her legs go a little weak.

“What's up with you, hm?” he said with a soft laugh, his voice low near her ear. “You’ve become so quiet now.”

Kaori blinked, momentarily stunned by how close he was—and how right it felt.

“I’m always quiet,” she murmured, hugging the jacket tighter around her.

K gave a playful scoff. “Not with Haru around, you’re not. I swear, you two could out-chat the whole town council.”

That made her smile, and he looked down at her, eyes softening.

“Seriously though,” he added, voice a little gentler now, “are you okay?”

Kaori glanced up at him, then quickly looked ahead again. “Yeah… just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he teased lightly, squeezing her shoulder once.

She laughed softly, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest that had nothing to do with his jacket.

And for once, the walk home didn’t feel long enough.

They turned a corner, their steps slow and easy, and his arm remained draped over her shoulders like it belonged there. Kaori couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so warm on a cold night.

K glanced at her, his expression thoughtful now—quiet in a way that tugged at something inside her.

“You know…” he started, voice a little softer than before, “I missed hanging out with you.”

Kaori looked up at him, surprised.

“I mean, we used to talk more, didn’t we?” he went on, his eyes staying on the road ahead, like saying it too directly might make it too vulnerable. “After school. On weekends. At the beach. I dunno. I just… noticed we kinda drifted.”

Her heart gave that too-familiar flutter. “I guess we got busy,” she said quietly.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Still. I think we should walk home together more often. Like this. It’s nice.”

Kaori swallowed, cheeks warm as she looked down at the pavement. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It is.”

His fingers gave her shoulder a light squeeze, casual but comforting.

And in that moment, with his jacket around her, his arm holding her close, and the stars blinking softly above them, Kaori felt like maybe… just maybe… her crush wasn’t so impossible after all.

They stopped just outside her gate, the warm porch light spilling over them, casting a soft glow in the night.

Kaori reached up to shrug off his jacket, fingers just brushing the collar when his hand gently caught hers.

“Keep it,” K said, his voice low. “I was gonna get a new one anyway.”

“But—” she started to protest, only for him to take a step forward and wrap his arms around her.

Her breath hitched. She froze.

He held her close, warm and solid and smelling like comfort and forest air. One hand slowly rose to her hair, his fingers combing gently through the strands in a gesture so tender it made her heart ache.

He didn’t let go right away. And honestly, she didn’t want him to.

When he finally pulled back, it was just enough to look down at her.

“Sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… kinda missed you, I suppose.”

Kaori blinked up at him, her voice soft and unsure. “But… we’re neighbours.”

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile. “Yeah, but… I feel like I never see you around anymore.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked into his eyes—genuine, a little vulnerable, and full of something she didn’t quite have the courage to name.

The air between them felt charged.

And suddenly, that winter dance didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The next day, Kaori and Haru were outside the town hall, sweeping up the dead leaves that had piled up after the chilly night. The air was crisp, and everything seemed peaceful, a calm that didn’t last long.

Kaori was just about to sweep a pile of leaves into the dustpan when she heard footsteps approaching. She looked up—and froze.

Mina.

Her eyes were narrowed, her lips curled into a sneer. There was no mistaking the fury in her expression.

Before Kaori could say anything, Mina was upon her, shoving her hard enough to make Kaori stumble back, knocking the broom out of her hands.

“H-hey!” Haru gasped, rushing to Kaori’s side. “What the hell, Mina?!”

Mina didn’t even spare Haru a glance. Her eyes were locked on Kaori, a venomous glare that made Kaori instinctively take a step back.

“I told you,” Mina spat, her voice dripping with malice. “Go near K again, and I’ll feed you to the dogs.”

Kaori’s heart skipped a beat at the words, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn’t sure why, but she found herself cowering back under Mina’s stare, her hands instinctively clutching at the front of her sweater.

Haru, eyes wide with anger, stood between them. “You can’t just say things like that, Mina! What the hell is your problem?!”

Mina didn’t flinch. Her eyes flicked briefly to Haru before returning to Kaori, her voice icy. “My problem?” she repeated, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “You should be worried about your own problem, fish. Stay away from K. He’s mine.”

Kaori felt the heat rise to her face, her pulse quickening. She tried to steady herself, but the weight of Mina’s words left her feeling small, unsure.

Mina turned away with a final glare, her heels clicking on the pavement as she walked off, leaving Kaori and Haru standing there, the tension still thick in the air.

Haru was the first to speak, her voice firm, though Kaori could tell she was trying to keep herself composed. “Don’t let her get to you, okay? K’s not hers to claim. Don’t ever forget that.”

Kaori swallowed, looking down at the ground. Haru’s words were comforting, but the fear that lingered from Mina’s threat still made her uneasy.

"Maybe… maybe I shouldn't get in the way," Kaori mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Haru turned to her sharply, her face softening. "You’re not in the way, Kaori. She is."

A while later, Kaori and Haru were inside the town hall, working on airing out the silk curtains by letting the sun pour in. The warm light filled the room, making the space feel brighter, even though Kaori’s mind was still clouded by the events earlier.

She tried to focus, her fingers delicately tugging at the corners of the curtain as she hung it, but Mina’s words kept replaying in her head. "Go near K again and I’ll feed you to the dogs." The harshness in her voice made Kaori hesitate, her heart heavy with uncertainty. Was she really getting in the way? Was it even worth it?

Just then, she heard footsteps approaching, and a familiar voice called out to her.

"Kaori!" K’s cheerful tone brought her back to the moment, and she turned to see him walking toward them with a smile on his face.

Kaori’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt herself blush. She’d been trying to avoid thinking about him, especially after the tension earlier, but here he was, standing in front of her like he always did—warm, friendly, and so easy to talk to.

K dug into his pocket as he got closer, his movements slow and casual, and he pulled out a few small shells, holding them up with a grin. “I went back to the beach yesterday. Found some more shells. Thought you might like them.”

Kaori’s heart fluttered, but she hesitated. She glanced at the shells and remembered what Mina had said. Stay away from K. He’s mine.

For a brief moment, doubt clouded her mind, but when she looked at K’s face, the warmth and sincerity in his smile made the hesitation fade.

She didn’t know what to say, so she simply held out her hand, but before she could say anything, K reached out and gently placed the shells into her palm.

“They reminded me of you,” he said quietly, his voice soft but clear, making Kaori’s heart race. “I always think of you when I find something like this.”

Kaori froze, her fingers curling around the shells as her pulse quickened. The warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come out. All she could think about were the feelings swirling in her chest. Did he mean that? Was he serious?

She looked down at the shells in her hand, her gaze drifting back to K, her heart thudding loudly. The weight of Mina’s warning still hung in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t ignore the way K made her feel—safe, cherished, and important.

K tilted his head, his eyes watching her carefully, as if waiting for her response. “What do you think?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You like them?”

Kaori felt the tension in her chest ease slightly, though her heart was still racing. She nodded, her voice small. “I do… Thank you, K.”

The way his name rolled off her tongue felt different now, like it meant something more than just a simple greeting. K’s smile widened at her response, and he gently patted her hand.

“No problem,” he said with a wink. “I’ll always bring you more if you want them.”

Kaori couldn’t help but smile back, the weight of Mina’s words momentarily forgotten. It felt like she was back to where she was before—just Kaori, talking to K, sharing a moment like they always did.

But deep down, she knew she had to make a decision soon. Mina’s warning wasn’t something to ignore, no matter how much she wanted to. The last thing she wanted was to cause any more tension between herself and the people she cared about.

A while later, after they’d finished airing out the curtains and tidying up, Kaori had to leave early—her mom had sent a message asking for help at home. She waved a soft goodbye to K and Haru before slipping out, the shells tucked safely in her pocket.

K was still there, chatting with one of the other volunteers when Haru made her way over. Her usual carefree smile was nowhere in sight, replaced by a firm, serious expression. She crossed her arms and tilted her head at K.

“Hey,” she said, her voice steady. “Can we talk?”

K blinked, a little surprised at her tone. “Uh… sure?” He followed her to a quiet corner, away from the bustle of the others still packing up.

Once they were out of earshot, Haru didn’t hold back.

“Tell your fangirls to lay off, will you?” she said, straight to the point. “Mina keeps bothering Kaori. Like, seriously. She threatened her again this morning—and she even shoved her.”

K’s expression darkened instantly.

“She what?”

Haru nodded, jaw clenched. “Yeah. Pushed her right in front of me. Said if Kaori went near you again, she’d feed her to the dogs.”

K’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“If it keeps going on,” Haru continued, eyes blazing, “I’m fighting back. No cap. I don’t care if she’s got claws, I’ve got fins—and they slap hard.”

K let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t know it had gotten that bad…”

“Well, it has,” Haru snapped. “Kaori’s not gonna say anything. She never does. But you? You could stop this. Talk to Mina. Make her back off.”

K looked toward the door Kaori had just walked out of, his face tight with frustration and something else—guilt.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said, voice low. “I’ll handle it.”

Haru gave him a look. “Good. Because if she lays another finger on Kaori… I swear, I’ll make a tsunami in the middle of this town.”

Despite the serious moment, K huffed a tiny laugh. “You mermaids are terrifying.”

“We’re protective,” Haru corrected with a raised brow. “Especially when it comes to people we love.”

K’s gaze flickered again toward the door. “Yeah… I get that.”

Right as K finished his sentence, a too-familiar scent hit the air—cheap perfume and overconfidence.

Mina.

She strode over, hips swaying like she owned the pavement, her glare slicing through Haru before melting into something sugary and fake as she faced K. “There you are,” she cooed, completely ignoring the tension in the air. “I was just looking for you.”

Haru rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, but K didn’t say anything. He just stared as Mina stepped closer, fluttering her lashes.

“So~ I was thinking,” she purred, twirling a strand of her hair, “we should go to the Winter Dance together. We’d look amazing, don’t you think?”

K scoffed, expression unamused. “No.”

Mina blinked, caught off guard. “Wait… what?”

“I said no,” K repeated, sharper this time. “You’re not my type, Mina. At all.”

The smile faded off Mina’s face like a mask slipping. “Excuse me?”

“I know everything you’ve been saying to Kaori,” he said coolly. “Haru told me. The threats, the shove this morning—‘feed her to the dogs,’ was it?”

Mina’s lips twitched into a sneer. “That little—”

“Say one more thing about her,” K cut her off, voice low and calm—but dangerous. His eyes glinted, golden like the moonlight that came with his kind. “And I swear, it won’t be the dogs you’ll have to worry about.”

He leaned in just a little, voice dropping to a warning growl.

“Keep going, and I’ll be the one who feasts on your blood.”

Mina froze, her face paling slightly.

Haru stood tall beside him, arms crossed with the most satisfied smirk she’d worn all day. “Told you.”

Mina’s fists curled at her sides, but with a sharp huff and one last glare at Haru, she spun on her heel and stormed off.

Once she was gone, K ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The salty breeze kissed her skin, cool and refreshing, as Kaori sat at the edge of the shore with the tide gently brushing over her feet. The shells she’d collected were scattered around her like little gems, glistening under the afternoon sun. She ran her fingers over one, a pale pink spiral, and let out a long sigh.

Tomorrow was the dance.

And even though Haru had told her everything—about what K said, how he stood up for her, how he’d even threatened Mina—Kaori’s heart still felt tangled in a web of fear and uncertainty.

How was she supposed to tell him?

She picked up a shell and tossed it into the water, watching it skip once before it sank.

Her thoughts were a blur until something shifted in the wind. A sound—like heavy pawsteps padding across wet sand.

She turned—

“AHHH!” she screamed, scrambling back from the massive black wolf just a few feet from her.

It startled slightly before shifting, muscles contorting and shrinking until a familiar face emerged, tousled hair falling into kind eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me!” K laughed, hands raised. “It’s just me, I swear!”

Kaori clutched her chest, breath catching in relief and leftover adrenaline. “K—you scared the life out of me!”

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry. I saw you from the cliff and… I guess I forgot how terrifying I look in wolf form.”

She shot him a look but couldn’t hold it for long, not when he looked so apologetic—and so… warm.

He stepped closer, slowly now, like not to startle her again. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You okay?”

Kaori nodded, though her heart was still beating a little too fast—and not just from the scare. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“About the dance?” he guessed, lowering himself to sit beside her, close enough that their arms nearly brushed.

She looked down at the shells in her lap and nodded again. “It’s tomorrow.”

K tilted his head to look at her. “You still not going?”

Kaori hesitated.

Then, softly, “I don’t know.”

He nudged her knee with his. “Well, I think you should.”

She looked at him, lips parting slightly, and he gave her a crooked smile. “It wouldn’t feel right without you there.”

Her heart squeezed.

He meant it.

And tomorrow was the dance.

So why was it still so hard to tell him?

Kaori lowered her eyes to the shells in her palm again, fingers curling around them as the sea breeze lifted her hair slightly.

“I don’t feel like going,” she murmured, her voice quiet beneath the sound of the waves.

K frowned gently, leaning in. “Why not?”

She opened her mouth, hesitated. Her throat tightened as a thousand thoughts swirled in her chest—Mina’s words, the stares, the way everyone seemed to want a piece of him. She clenched her fist around the shells.

“Just…” she said, forcing a small shrug. “Just don’t want to.”

But K wasn’t convinced. “Kaori…”

She turned her face slightly away from him. “Don’t ask,” she said quickly, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t want your pity.”

K’s expression softened. The wind picked up, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her profile—the way her lashes trembled, the way her shoulders were pulled in too tightly, like she was bracing for something.

“Pity?” he repeated, almost like it was a foreign word.

Kaori didn’t answer, just kept her gaze out toward the sea, where the sun dipped lower over the horizon, tinting the waves in orange and rose.

He was quiet for a moment, then slowly reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before his hand settled on her shoulder.

“I don’t pity you, Kaori,” he said softly. “Not even a little.”

His tone was sincere—quiet but strong—and her heart thudded painfully.

“Then why are you always so nice to me?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Why do you give me shells, and your jacket, and say those things like… like you actually see me?”

He blinked once, then leaned a little closer, eyes not leaving hers.

“Because I do see you,” he said. “And not just as some girl next door. Not just some mermaid with pretty shells.”

Kaori’s breath caught.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t just being kind.

He meant it.

“Come to the dance,” he said again, softer now, thumb brushing gently along her arm. “Not because you have to. But because I want to see you there.”

She looked at him, the sea between them and the sun bleeding into the sky behind, and her chest swelled with everything she’d tried to bury.

She looked at him, eyes searching. “Why do you want me to be there?”

K smiled gently, not even hesitating.

“Because you’re one of my best friends… and I don’t want you to miss out.”

Her stomach dropped. The ache came slowly, blooming in her chest as if something inside her cracked open. Best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

She looked away, trying to blink the sting out of her eyes. But it clung to her like salt in the air, sharp and impossible to ignore.

Without another word, Kaori stood up abruptly, brushing the sand off her skirt. She didn’t meet his gaze.

“Kaori—”

But she was already walking away, heart pounding, not even daring to look back.

“Kaori, what’s wrong?” K’s voice grew more urgent as he followed behind her, footsteps crunching against the wet sand. “Just—stop for a second, please!”

She didn’t.

“Kaori, talk to me!”

Her heart pounded harder with every step, but she refused to look back. The ache in her chest was too much, the heat behind her eyes too heavy. If she turned around now, she’d crumble.

So she kept walking. Kept ignoring the sound of his voice chasing after her.

Because nothing hurt more than realizing the boy she loved only saw her as a friend.

The lump in her throat grew, threatening to choke her. Kaori felt the sting of tears pooling in her eyes, but she couldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not now. She pushed herself harder, her legs moving faster until she was sprinting, the air rushing past her ears, mixing with the crashing waves.

She had to get away.

She needed to disappear for a little while, to hide from the ache that had settled deep inside her. The weight of his words, his friendship, suffocated her. Best friend. She couldn’t bear to hear it again.

Her breath came in sharp gasps as she reached the rocky shore, where the sea met the sand. Her heart hammered in her chest, urging her to move faster, to reach the water before her emotions broke free.

The sea. She needed to become the sea.

Without a second thought, she pulled off her shoes and stepped into the shallow waves, the coldness of the water numbing her skin. She let the sea swallow her feet, her heart, and then she felt it—the familiar pull of the ocean as her body began to change.

Her skin shimmered, the fins on her legs slowly emerging, her body transforming into something that felt more like herself than anything she’d been all day. She breathed deeply as her tail swished into the water, her legs no longer burdened by the heaviness of the land.

But just as she was about to dive in completely, she heard K’s voice, panicked and full of desperation. “Kaori! No—wait!”

She froze, her hand hovering above the water, her breath hitching in her throat as she heard him shout her name. She could feel his presence closing in, the panic in his voice unmistakable.

"Kaori!" K's footsteps splashed through the shallow water as he sprinted toward her, his voice shaking. "Please don’t do this!"

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Not now. She couldn’t let him see the tears that were threatening to spill, the pain that had swallowed her whole.

Kaori took a deep breath, pushing herself off the shore and diving into the water, her tail propelling her forward. But as she submerged, she could still hear his voice, distant but filled with panic.

“Kaori, please don’t go—please!”

But she didn’t stop. Not this time. She swam faster, deeper, the ocean surrounding her as she lost herself in the waves. And though she could still hear his calls echoing in the distance, Kaori refused to turn back.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Evening had fallen, painting the sky in hues of indigo and deep plum. The moonlight spilled across Kaori’s room, soft and pale through the window. She stayed curled in bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, the soft hum of the waves barely reaching her ears.

She’d cried herself empty earlier, cheeks raw from dried tears and throat sore from silent sobs. But her heart—her heart still throbbed.

Kaori shifted slightly, her blanket slipping as she turned to glance outside through the thin slits of her curtains. Her breath caught in her throat.

K was still there.

Standing under the streetlight in front of her house, jacketless in the growing cold, his arms crossed as he leaned against the gate. Waiting. Not pacing. Just… waiting.

She pressed her forehead gently against the cool glass, watching him, her heart aching all over again. She wished he’d just go home. She wished she hadn’t run. She wished he’d said anything else but the one thing that broke her.

With a quiet sigh, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and sank back down onto the mattress, trying to will away the hollow feeling in her chest.

Earlier, Haru had stopped by. She didn’t stay long—just enough to check in, to hold Kaori’s hand and say, “You don’t have to talk yet, but I’m here, okay?” Then she had left, knowing Kaori needed silence more than anything.

Now, as the wind whispered through the cracks in her window, she heard it.

His voice.

Soft, muffled through the glass, but still clear.

“Kaori…”

And just like that, the dam broke again.

Tears spilled down her cheeks like rivers, and she clutched the blanket to her chest, trying in vain to muffle the sobs that wracked her body. She buried her face in the fabric, the sound of her cries soaked into the cotton.

He couldn’t hear her

But in that moment, she swore he could feel it.

The hours dragged on, heavy and quiet, until night fully settled. The hum of cicadas had quieted, replaced by the occasional rustle of the wind. Kaori lay still beneath her blanket, her sobs long since faded into exhausted silence. Her eyes were puffy, her throat dry, but her heart still ached with the same dull, raw throb.

She turned onto her side and peeked through the curtain again.

And there he was.

Still there.

Still waiting.

She squinted at the clock on her nightstand. 1:47 AM. Her jaw clenched.

What was he doing? Freezing out there for no reason? Did he think standing there all night would fix what he said? That it would magically erase how it made her feel?

With a huff of frustration, Kaori sat up and tossed her blanket aside, stomping toward her window and unlatching it with more force than needed. It creaked open, the cold air rushing in as she leaned out.

“K!”

He sharply looked up at the sound of her voice, startled. His eyes were wide, hopeful, like a puppy finally acknowledged.

But before he could say a single word, she snapped, “Go home.”

He blinked.

“I don’t want to talk to you...” Her voice cracked at the end, from emotion or exhaustion—maybe both.

She began to pull the window shut when, in a blur of movement, she heard a shift.

Then claws scraped against the shingles above.

Her eyes widened as K, now in his sleek, dark wolf form, leapt up with grace and urgency, landing on her roof with practiced ease. In a flash of shimmer, he shifted back into his human form, breath misting in the cold night as he reached the window just before she could close it fully.

His hand pressed against the frame, gently but firmly keeping it open.

“Wait—please.” His voice was low and hoarse, eyes pleading. “Just… don’t shut me out like this.”

Kaori stared at him, frozen. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Everything inside her told her to slam the window and lock it. But her trembling fingers wouldn’t move.

Not yet.

Kaori stared at him, her heart tangled in a mess of guilt and confusion. He looked like he hadn’t moved an inch since she first shouted at him hours ago. His eyes were tired, but not angry. Not frustrated. Just… soft. Patient.

She sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly as the fight inside her dulled.

“…Okay,” she muttered under her breath, glancing away. “This is stupid. I was being stu—”

But before she could finish the word, K reached out and cupped her cheeks, his palms warm against her cold skin. He gently squeezed them together, squishing her face just enough to make her blink in surprise.

“Don’t,” he said softly, brows furrowed. “It’s not… stupid.”

She tried to speak, but the squish made her lips pucker slightly, and he gave her the smallest smile—sad and fond.

“Whatever the reason… even if I didn’t realize it… it still hurt you,” he murmured. “So let’s talk it out, okay? Don’t run away from me.”

Kaori just looked at him, eyes wide and shimmering under the moonlight. And for the first time in hours, the ache in her chest began to ease—just a little.

Kaori sighed again, softer this time, and finally pushed the window open wider. Without saying a word, she carefully climbed out, her bare feet quiet on the shingles. K instinctively reached out, steadying her with a hand to her waist to make sure she didn’t trip or slip.

She sat down beside him, arms loosely wrapped around her knees, the air between them thick with unspoken things. For a moment, all they did was watch the stars in silence.

Then she spoke.

“I liked you,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet and fast, like she had to say it all before her heart changed its mind. “Well—like, past tense. Liked, you know? Not now. I mean, it’s fine now. I’m over it.”

K turned his head sharply toward her, eyes wide with surprise.

“I just… I just needed to say it,” she rushed on, looking anywhere but at him. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You don’t have to feel bad. It’s not your fault. I just misunderstood things, and it’s fine. I was being silly. I mean, we’re friends, and I’m glad. Really. I promise.”

She finally looked at him—and instantly regretted it. His expression was stunned, lips parting like he was about to speak, but before he could, she reached out and slapped her palm gently over his mouth.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything. Just… don’t. Please.”

Her eyes flickered with something fragile—hope or fear, even she didn’t know.

“I just wanted to let it out. That’s all.”

Kaori kept her palm over his mouth, but when she noticed the subtle flicker of shine in K’s eyes—something deep, unreadable, and maybe even a little sad—her expression softened. Her other hand gently moved to rest over the one covering his mouth, as if to anchor both of them in the moment.

She let out a breath and began to ramble, her voice a mix of nervous energy and quiet vulnerability.

“I—okay, I liked you. Like… for basically forever. Since we were kids and you’d always bring me shells and tell me they looked like me,” she said quickly, eyes darting toward the night sky rather than him. “And I always wanted to say something, but I didn’t. Because… because you were always popular, and everyone liked you, and I felt like it’d be so awkward if I said anything and ruined it.”

Her voice dipped a little, fingers tightening over his.

“But it’s fine now. Like, I’m okay. I’m getting over it. Like… not entirely over it yet, but I’m in the process, you know? So you don’t need to worry or feel weird or anything, I swear.”

She gave a shaky smile, still not daring to meet his eyes fully.

“It’s just something I had to say. That’s all. Just… let me be the weird one for tonight, okay?”

Kaori took a deep breath, her fingers still lightly resting over his.

“I’m gonna remove my hands now,” she murmured, “but you have to promise me something first.”

K tilted his head slightly, eyes still wide with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“You cannot talk or ask anything or comment on anything I just said, okay?” she said firmly, looking at him with pleading eyes.

He blinked, clearly bewildered, and opened his mouth slightly in protest.

“Please,” she whispered, so softly it barely carried in the breeze. Her voice trembled just a little, and her eyes finally met his.

K stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze again—like he was trying to say a thousand things all at once but couldn’t find the words. Then, slowly, he nodded. Hesitantly. Reluctantly.

Kaori pulled her hands back, gently, and stood up with a small sigh. “Thank you,” she said, her voice a little steadier now.

She dusted off her hands and offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Really… it’s fine. I’ll eventually make everything normal again, so don’t worry.”

Turning toward the window, she climbed back inside her room. As she stood by the frame, she looked back at him one last time.

He was still sitting there, watching her. A sullen look had settled over his face, one that pulled at something deep inside her.

“Good night,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying to him.

And slowly… she closed the window.

The sun filtered through K’s curtains as he stood in front of the mirror, the morning light casting a golden halo around him. His usually lazy, boyish expression was replaced by something steeled—fierce, focused.

A face that screamed determination.

His hands worked steadily, tightening the knot on his necktie with practiced ease. Each movement was precise, full of purpose. There was a certain fire in his eyes, one that hadn’t been there the day before. He had stayed up the whole night thinking, tossing and turning with a storm of emotions crashing in his chest.

Half of his heart had soared—She liked him. She had always liked him.

But the other half had cracked. She didn’t let him speak. She didn’t let him feel.

But not today.

Today, he was going to tell her everything. He was going to break through the walls she’d put up.

He wasn’t just going to confess—he was going to make her fall for him again. Properly. Fully. Without hesitation.

With one last tug, the tie was secured. He picked up his thumb and ran it along the edge of his brows, smoothing them into place as he held his gaze steady.

“Koga,” he said to his reflection, voice low and sure.

“You got this.”

๋ ࣭ ⭑

K stood outside Kaori’s house, bouquet of simple white baby’s breath in one hand, the cold nipping at his fingers through the fabric of his suit. His heart pounded beneath the crisp fabric of his blazer, and yet his smile didn’t waver. He took a breath and rang the doorbell.

After a moment, the door creaked open.

“Ah… K?” Kaori’s mother blinked, surprised. She looked him up and down, taking in his perfectly styled hair, the tailored suit, the navy tie that brought out the color in his eyes. “You look… really good.”

K gave a light, charming grin. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “But… why are you here? I thought Kaori wasn’t going to the dance.”

K nodded, softly. “I know.”

He looked her straight in the eyes, something gentle but unshakeable in his tone.

“But I’m not going without her.”

Kaori laid on the floor, her legs resting up on the bed as she stared at the dress she'd originally thought of wearing. From her upside-down view, the fabric looked like a dream that never got to bloom. Fully lace, soft ivory in color — delicate, full-sleeved with a fitted bodice and a graceful up-down hem. The train spilled like a quiet whisper across her rug. It was simple, elegant, and completely her.

The door creaked open.

She didn’t even care to look.

Still, her eyes flicked up, and she let out a small shriek before sighing and slumping back down.

“I thought I told you I don’t want to talk about last night,” Kaori mumbled, her voice quiet, dulled with emotion.

K didn’t say anything. His gaze shifted to the dress lying there, his expression unreadable. Then, silently, he stepped in further.

Without a word, he dropped down beside her on the floor, mimicking her — legs propped up on the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. She blinked, confused, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he tilted his head and gave her a small, easy smile.

“What are we looking at?” he asked, like he hadn’t just barged into her mess of a heart.

Kaori stared at him, pure disbelief on her face.

Kaori furrowed her brows and glanced sideways at him. “What are you doing?”

K tilted his head with a casual smile. “Are we looking at the dress?”

She scoffed softly. “Shouldn’t you be at the town hall?”

“I could say the same thing for you,” he replied, without missing a beat.

Her lips pressed together and she went quiet, turning her eyes back to the ceiling. She didn’t want to admit how good he looked — because somehow, K looked even better than usual tonight. It was unfair. And dangerous. She couldn’t even look at him without feeling her chest tighten.

“If you don’t want to go to the dance,” he said lightly, “we can just chill here and stare at the ceiling together.”

That made her scoff as she turned to face him again. “What do you mean by we? It’s me. You should be going to the dance and enjoying.”

K shifted so he could properly look at her. “I’m not going without you,” he said, softly but firmly. “If you want to stay in your room, then so be it.”

He gave her a small shrug. “I don’t mind just laying on the floor.”

Kaori exhaled sharply, eyes flickering back up to the ceiling. “I don’t need your pity, K.”

K sighed quietly, then shifted closer. He turned his body toward her and carefully slid one arm under her neck to support her head. His other hand gently rested against her cheek, thumb brushing her skin in the softest caress.

Kaori stiffened instantly, her face turning red as heat bloomed across her cheeks. The sudden closeness made her heart stutter. She didn’t move, couldn’t move. Slowly—hesitantly—she dared to glance at him.

K was already looking at her, his eyes soft and unshifting as his thumb continued to gently caress her cheek.

Then, he said it.

“It’s not pity,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath. “It’s love.”

Her breath caught.

Love.

The word echoed in her chest like a dropped stone into a still lake. It felt too big. Too heavy. She looked away quickly, heart racing. “You… you don’t have to lie,” she whispered, her voice trembling at the edges.

But before she could say another word, he gently covered her mouth with his hand, just like she had done to him the night before.

She froze again, eyes wide as she looked back at him.

“Maybe you’d believe me,” he said softly, “if you had let me speak last night.”

His expression was calm, but something burned behind his gaze. His hand stayed over her lips as he leaned a little closer.

“Now,” he whispered, “it’s your turn to be quiet… and listen to me.”

K kept his hand gently over her mouth, eyes steady on hers as he spoke.

“I’ve always known I loved you,” he said quietly. “Ever since kindergarten… when we’d sit next to each other and you’d share your crayons with me even though I kept breaking them.”

A small laugh escaped him at the memory, and Kaori blinked, still frozen beneath his hand.

“As we grew up, and I started getting more attention… it got harder and harder to get to you. Not because you were far, but because… I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know how to tell you that it’s always been you.”

He moved his hand slowly, giving her space to breathe, but she didn’t speak. She just listened.

“I know I act all confident sometimes, but… truth is, I get shy too. Especially with you. Because you’re—” he paused, eyes softening, “—you’re stunning, Kaori. You always have been. But now? You’re so beautiful it… it scares me sometimes. I look at you and forget what I was even trying to say.”

Kaori’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly, but she still didn’t speak. Her heart thundered in her chest.

K smiled gently and leaned in just a little closer.

“But I’m not going to hold back anymore,” he whispered. “Not when I almost lost the chance to tell you. I’m going to show you. Every single day, just how much I truly love you. How much I adore you.”

K slowly removed his hand from her mouth, his eyes still locked with hers—soft, unwavering.

Kaori swallowed hard. “I don’t… I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice shaky and small.

He let out a gentle chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from her face before cupping her cheek again with such care it made her heart ache. His thumb stroked her skin as he leaned a little closer, eyes flickering from her lips to her eyes.

“Maybe this,” he murmured, voice low and full of warmth, “will clear all your doubts.”

Kaori blinked. “What—?”

But she couldn’t finish her sentence because in the next moment, K was leaning down slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could feel it. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes shut and—

His lips met hers.

Soft. Warm. Gentle.

His hand stayed against her cheek, grounding her as his mouth moved with hers, tender and full of unspoken feelings. The kiss deepened slowly, a wordless confession. The world outside her room faded until all she felt was him—his scent, his touch, his heart pressed close to hers.

And for the first time in a long while, Kaori stopped running from what she felt.

K slowly pulled back just enough to look at her, his breath warm against her skin. His eyes searched hers, nervous at first, until he saw it—the shimmer in her gaze, the softness in her expression.

Kaori’s heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. Her lips still tingled, and her hands trembled slightly before she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

She held him tight, like she was afraid he’d disappear.

He froze for a second, then smiled—wide, relieved, overjoyed—and wrapped his arms around her just as tightly, resting his cheek against her hair.

Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t need to.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

A little while later, K stepped back into the room—only to stop dead in his tracks.

Kaori stood there in the fully lace ivory dress, the soft fabric flowing elegantly with every breath she took. Her pearl-and-shell necklace rested delicately on her collarbone, matching pearl earrings twinkling beneath her tucked hair. Her makeup shimmered subtly, catching the light just enough to make her look ethereal.

K didn’t move. He just stood there, staring like he was seeing a goddess.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kaori mumbled, her cheeks already heating up.

He clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling back a step. “Too late. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

She groaned, turning around slightly to hide her face. “You’re impossible.”

His chuckle filled the room before he stepped toward her, gently pulling her by the waist until they were close. “For you? Maybe.”

Then, from behind his back, he revealed a bouquet of delicate baby’s breath—the soft white blooms matching the romance of her dress perfectly.

Kaori blinked in surprise. “You—?”

“It reminded me of you,” he said with a sheepish grin, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Soft. Pretty. And impossible to ignore.”

She bit her lip to hide the smile that wanted to spread.

K held the bouquet out fully. “You’re definitely going to be the prettiest girl at the entire event. No competition.”

Kaori shook her head slightly, but her smile gave her away.

“Let’s go make everyone else jealous, yeah?”

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Outside the town hall, the golden lights spilled from the tall windows, casting a soft glow on the path ahead. Music thrummed gently through the air, and Kaori stood frozen at the edge of it all, her fingers clutching her bouquet tightly.

K, who had been walking slightly ahead, turned when he realized she wasn’t beside him. He looked at her and immediately caught the nervous glint in her eyes.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled that calm, boyish smile of his before stepping in front of her and holding out his hand.

“Trust me?” he asked softly.

Kaori glanced at his hand… then at his eyes. The warmth in them grounded her. She let out a small breath before nodding and placing her hand in his.

“Always,” she whispered.

With fingers laced, they stepped through the grand doors together.

Almost instantly, the chatter in the room died down and was replaced by a ripple of gasps and hushed exclamations. Heads turned. Eyes widened.

There was K—undeniably handsome in his sharp suit—and Kaori, radiant in lace and pearls, her hand securely in his. It was a sight that none had expected… but no one could look away from.

Near the front, Haru stood with her date, her eyes going wide before she squealed in delight. “KAORI!!” she mouthed dramatically, grinning from ear to ear.

Kaori caught her gaze and laughed softly, her nerves slowly melting as she returned her friend’s smile.

She squeezed K’s hand gently.

He looked down at her. “Told you,” he murmured. “Prettiest girl in the whole damn room.”

K leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Kaori’s forehead, lingering just enough to make her heart skip.

From the corner of the hall, Mina—who had been sipping punch and very much minding everyone’s business—gasped so loud it was borderline theatrical.

“OH MY GOD,” she mouthed, clutching her chest like she’d just witnessed a public execution. “He kissed her. He kissed her!”

Her date blinked at her, confused. “Uh… yeah? Aren’t they like… together?”

“That’s not the point!” she hissed. “Forehead kisses are sacred.”

Meanwhile, Kaori’s face was glowing—not just from the makeup, but from how warm and flustered she felt. K gave her hand another squeeze before pulling her toward the dance floor.

The music shifted into a soft, upbeat tune, and K spun her lightly before doing a dramatic moonwalk that made Kaori laugh so hard she nearly dropped her bouquet.

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggled, as he tried to do a serious ballroom move but added a playful shimmy halfway through it.

“And yet,” he said with a grin, twirling her under his arm, “you’re smiling.”

They continued to dance like that—light, easy, and totally in sync. Not every step was perfect, but it didn’t matter. K guided her with gentle hands and laughter, and Kaori followed, cheeks sore from smiling.

Under the fairy lights strung across the ceiling, it wasn’t just a dance—it was their moment.

That's it for this one!

The ending seemed kind of rushed, so I apologise for that, but I hope yall enjoyed it anyway 🥹🤍

Taglist: @yeosangsbabygirlsblog