#sakura fluff

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

SUO hums as he feels your cheek squish against the side of his arms, he looks to you and sees your pretty eyes in a close, mouth slightly opened and suo had half a mind to put his finger in just to jolt you awake and tease you. but he doesn’t. suo carefully takes a hold of your head and places it carefully on his lap, taking off his furin coat and placing it over your body, his hand coming to the side of your arm, rubbing comforting circles on your skin as he continues the conversation he has with his peers.

KAJI jolted as he felt your head hit his shoulder, he almost didn’t want to look away from the train window, not wanting to confirm if it was you on his shoulder. who else would it be? the two of you were about to go home, riding the last train like you usually do with kaji always taking the window side, he finally looks at you, taking out the sucker in his mouth as he calls your name out softly, not hearing a response, he sighs. kaji switches his playlist to one with white noise as he removes his headphones and slots it on your head, providing you with better sleep. kaji tries to keep looking at the window but evidently gets distracted with how cute you were wearing his headphones.

UMEMIYA suddenly stops his yapping about his garden once he realizes there was no response from you. he looks over his shoulder and swoons at the sight of your body curled carefully on the bench, his representative jacket was draped like a blanket on your body and soft snores were escaping your lips. umemiya smiles so wide that he was almost laughing as he quickly takes out his phone and snaps so many pictures of you in different angles before he reviews them and decides on the one he deems worthy of becoming his lock screen. he laughs before pressing a kiss on your cheek and tending back to his little garden. 

HIRAGI knew before you even did that you were on the brink of falling asleep. he was prepared to be the chest you slept on as you watched the stars. hiragi tried to pay attention to where you were pointing but evidently ended up looking at the focused yet sleepy look on your face. he hums, asking you more about the constellation that you were currently pointing at, you put your finger down and explained the lore behind it, he nods intently, looking at the constellation before he realizes your voice was zoning out. he was careful to not chuckle out loud, fearing that the vibrations of his chest would wake you up. so with a strong arm, he pulls you closer, placing a kiss on your forehead then cheek, silently enjoying the moment that the two of you had. 

TOGAME raises the bottle of ramune soda to his lips and sighs after swallowing the first sip. he fixes your figure on his lap as he rests his head on your shoulder. you shudder slightly as you flipped the page of the book you were reading, the sun was warm and the surroundings were airy as the two of you had a date under the tree, on a picnic blanket, within the fields near the shishitoren area. with the way his arms held you so comfortably, you didn’t realize that you were slowly dozing off, the book almost falling from your grasp before you tried to pay attention once more. but with the way your lover held you as if you were the most important thing in the world lulls you into a comfortable sleep. togame only realizes once he finishes his second bottle of ramune that your breathing was deep and the book you were previously reading fell from your grasp. togame carefully picks up the book and bookmarks it before he lays the both of you down, he chuckles as he slowly pokes your puffed up cheek, placing a little kiss on it before he lays you down on his arm and places his sunglasses on your face, providing extra protection as he lets you sleep, following almost immediately after. 

Shit.

It happened again—you noticed the way the sun hits her just right, making her hair glow with a soft honey brown. The way her cheeks puff like the softest marshmallows when she laughs: a sweet sound you'd record on vinyl and rewind over and over and over again until the notes embed themselves into your ear canal. The way each footstep seems so graceful, carefree, weightless, without fear of ever misstepping.

And yet, you don't even know her name.

It's been a good couple weeks since she first arrived—out of nowhere, like a bolt from the blue, landing into English Lit and uprooting your entire life. New girl introduced herself during your regularly scheduled nap in the back of the classroom ("No worries," you figured, "I'll get her name eventually."), but with each passing day of slowly sinking deeper into a quicksand of infatuation, it's hard not to feel like the world's worst stalker by knowing everything about her except her name.

It started with a simple hunger.

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Ill-prepared as always, you stare through the glass of the vending machine, clutching your empty stomach with one hand and your emptier wallet with the other. The shiny aluminum of the chip bags seems to mock you with their sheen, safe behind the confines of their metal box. Right as you're about to drive your fist into the machine, you hear a voice next to you, so clear and pristine you thought it was your imagination.

"Which one's good?" "Hm?" You find yourself staring at the side profile of what you can only imagine to be an angel in real life—an angel hungry for greasy potato chips.

"Which one's good?" she repeats, turning to face you. "I can't decide."

For a moment, you forget all about the pang of hunger in your stomach as your eyes trace over her soft features. Curiosity or some inane instinct to humiliate yourself, you can't seem to stop staring, even as the seconds crawl by and it's becoming more obvious how much of a creep you must look like.

"Uh, hello?" Mystery girl waves a hand in front of your face, breaking the daze you were in. You figured she'd be running to the nearest police station by now, so the fact that she's still here, and smiling—Christ, what a sight—is either a miracle, or the start of your demise.

"Oh, right, uh," you mutter, "I usually just get salt and vinegar."

"Hmm..."

She ponders your words, bringing a slender finger to her chin as if what flavor she decides on will have some bearing on the fate of the universe—with the way she looks, ethereal and impossibly out of place in this backwater town, it just might.

"They're all the same, y'know," you utter for no particular reason. "Greasy, cheap, always half-empty."

She chuckles, and you feel your chest tighten. "Maybe so. But I'm craving chips today."

You watch as she shoves a crisp dollar bill into the machine and presses the fading blue buttons—the same combination for salt and vinegar chips. The vending machine whirs to life, creaking as if it's on its last breath, and drops one—no, two crinkly bags of chips to the bottom.

"Ooh, nice!" Mystery girl grins at you. Self-centered as it is, you can't help but feel partially responsible for that smile, even if all you did was inadvertently raise her cholesterol. "Here." She pushes one of the bags into your chest.

"For what?"

She shrugs. "Sharing is caring."

"Right, but—"

"Just take it." With a smile like that, how could you say no? You take the small bag of chips from her and stare at—it's the same light blue, with the same old logo and the same feeling of getting ripped off as you weigh it in your palm. Yet, there's something peculiar about it; not bad, just different. Like a Macguffin, or whatever your English Lit teacher called it—the bullet that'll send you falling into the abyss before you notice the trigger being pulled.

"Thanks," you say. "I'll pay you back next time—"

She's gone as quickly as she came.

As the aluminum bag crinkles between your fingers, your hunger is all but gone, replaced by something else. Something you can't quite put to words; something far bigger than you could've ever imagined.

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Then, it was an instinct.

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You dribble the ball against the concrete, eyes focused, knees primed and ready to dash at the first opening. A bead of sweat drips from your chin, but you ignore it—on the court, there's no room for distractions. From all the time you've known him, Min has always been a little taller, a little more muscular, but your skills overshadow any physical advantage he thinks he has.

Impatient as always, he reaches for the ball, only for him to misstep as you weave to the side and drive the ball to the hoop for an easy layup. Min slumps to the ground in utter defeat.

"You suck, man," you joke, offering him a hand.

"Whatever." Annoyed and exhausted, he swats your hand away. "The sun was in my eye that time."

"Was it in your eye the other 20 times I scored?"

"Fuck you," he snaps, making an unsuccessful attempt at kicking your leg before succumbing to the warm concrete underneath him. While he rests, you shut your eyes, feeling the breeze as it brushes past your cheeks. There's a simple joy of a sunny weekend on the court with your best friend—a thoroughly uncomplicated way of living, void of whatever headaches life tends to throw your way.

And then she shows up.

The second you open your eyes, you see her again, walking arm in arm with Chaewon, the resident chatterbox of the school. As usual, she's going off about some drama you don't bother to keep up with, arm gesticulating wildly, while Mystery Girl just nods along like she somehow understands every bit of Chaewon's barely coherent ramblings. Mystery Girl laughs, and you feel your chest tighten like it did before in front of the vending machine.

"Hey, Min," you utter, eyes glued to the pair on the sidewalk.

"Hm?"

"What's that girl's name? The one next to Chaewon."

Min brings his head up just enough to see the two of them in the distance. "Oh, her? I don't know, we don't share any classes. She's hot though," he chuckles.

Something about the way he regards her, like she's just another pretty face, irks you for reasons you can't put to words. You open your mouth to say something, but bite your tongue instead—what would you even say? He's not wrong, but... But what? You barely even know the girl. You don't even know her name.

With a huff, you pick up your basketball and toss it at Min's face.

"Agh! What the hell, man?!" he barks, rubbing his cheek.

"Get up. Let's run it back."

"I don't want to."

"Quit being a bitch and get up!" you say a little too aggressively. You peer cautiously to the side, hoping the girls didn't hear your outburst. Thankfully, Chaewon's loudmouth seems to have covered up for you

"Alright, fine!" Begrudgingly, Min grabs the ball and heads to the three-point line. "I don't even know why you're in such a bad mood, you're not the one who lost..." he mutters under his breath.

He checks the ball to you, starting the game. From behind him, you see Chaewon and Mystery Girl slowly nearing the basketball court. You try to focus on the game, but it gets increasingly harder to ignore the fluttering feel in your stomach that grows with every step she takes. Should you say hi? Give her a nonchalant nod? God, what is her fucking name??

Min rushes to the side, and you barely move in time to block him. He fakes back, sending you tripping to the ground and giving him an easy three-pointer.

"Oooh, get fucked!" he taunts, before shooting from the three-point line with all the grace of an injured deer. The ball ricochets off the rim, flying like a bullet through the air—right towards the girls.

"Shit, look out!" Min calls out. You're already on your feet, making a dash towards them. You fight past the heat, the exhaustion, the pain, each step fueled by this indescribable feeling in your stomach. Chaewon and Mystery Girl give you odd looks as you barrel towards them—who wouldn't be weirded out by a sweaty person sprinting at them?—before noticing the ball sailing right at their faces. Without thinking, you leap forward, swatting the ball away, before hitting the ground with a thud.

A sharp pain shoots through your shoulder like a thousand knives stabbing into your bones. And yet, the first thing you do is check if she's okay.

"Oh my god, are you alright?!" Mystery Girl asks, eyes wide with worry—those soft, round eyes like chewy boba, looking at you. For a moment, not a single word reaches your lips as your mind is too preoccupied by the girl in front of you. She kneels down next to you and inspects your arm, and you forget to breathe, to think, to function, her touch light and feathery against your skin.

"Y-yeah," you mutter, "I think I'm—FUCK!" A jolt of pain hits your shoulder, causing you to collapse back into the grass.

"I'm gonna call an ambulance!" Chaewon exclaims, already taking out her phone. God, this is so embarrassing. All of this because of a stupid basketball. Why do you even play this fucking game?

You sit up, trying to ignore the fact that you can barely move your shoulder. "I-I'm fine, Chaewon, it's just a scratch—"

"BRO!" To make matters worse, Min comes running towards you, getting the attention of the entire park in the process. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt?! How many fingers am I holding up?!"

You slap his hand away from your face in annoyance. "I'm fine! Just a scratch," you lie through gritted teeth.

"Can you move your arm?" Mystery Girl asks.

"U-uh, yeah, I can—" You fight back a groan as another wave of pain ripples beneath your flesh. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to pour down and make you look like even more of a loser than you already do. "I-I just need some ice and I'll be good—"

"The ambulance is on its way!" Chaewon announces. A crowd starts to form around you, the sting of embarrassment hurting you way more than a broken bone ever could.

"Please, I don't need an ambulance—"

Before you can even react, Min scoops you up into his arms like a princess. A wave of mortification washes over you as you meet Mystery Girl's confused expression.

"Dude! What the fuck are you doing?!" With each passing second, your cheeks burn hotter and hotter.

"No time. I'm taking you to the hospital myself." Min starts sprinting in the opposite direction, with you bouncing around in his arms like some poor damsel in distress.

"Put me down, you fucking idio—FUCK!" Your attempts at loosening yourself from his grip only worsen the pain. Mystery Girl's lips part like she wants to say something, but all of it goes unheard under the haze of commotion and the voices in your head calling you a loser. Chaewon and Mystery Girl shrink in the distance, no doubt laughing about how stupid you must look.

All because she showed up.

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Finally: a long-awaited introduction.

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House parties—cesspools of mindless fun and bad decisions, where consequences only exist for tomorrow's self. Hormones are high, shitty alcohol litters the fridge, and cheap disco lights cover the room with a filter that gives you a mild headache; a perfect recipe for nothing life-changing to occur. Surely.

You find yourself in an odd corner of the living room, nursing a red solo cup and recounting the story of your broken arm to a group of people you've never met ("You should see the other guy!" you say; cool, nonchalant, actively-suppressing the memory of Min carrying you in his arms). Deserved or not, you might as well milk as much street cred as you can from this injury.

Eventually, the group disperses naturally and you're left to mingle around the room, shuffling your way through the crowd while trying not to hit your shoulder sling against anyone. You beeline it towards the kitchen to refill your cup—and there she is again.

Mystery Girl, her hair dyed a deep maroon that's just barely noticeable over the colored lights, talking to some guy you haven't seen before. That usual carefree look on her face is jarringly absent, replaced by a look that's all gray clouds before a storm. Some voice in the back of your mind tells you to intervene—go, be the hero and save the girl!—but from the desperation on the dude's face and the unwavering stoicism in hers, it seems like she has everything under control. Without a second glance at her, you refill your cup and head outside for some fresh air.

The chilly night breeze is sobering against your warm cheeks, reddened by the cheap booze in your system. Some stragglers linger outside the house, passing around a joint or invading each other's personal space. You find an empty spot around the side, just outside the range of the dingy streetlights, the cold brick walls pressing up against your back.

At one point or another, the novelty of a house party wears off and you're left wondering why you ever attend these things in the first place. Min never comes, always making the excuse of "alcohol ruining his physique," so you have no other choice but to tough these things out alone in search of a purpose. Are you trying to find a hookup? To feel like you belong? Some societal pressure that pushes you into following the herd? Hard to say. Maybe all of the above.

The sound of crunching grass nears the corner, and you brace yourself for the stoner asking for a light or the rowdy couple that couldn't find a vacant bedroom inside. Instead, you get a voice:

"Oh, it's you."

Like a magnet, your eyes snap towards the owner of that voice. Your chest tightens as Mystery Girl joins you on the wall, that charming smile aimed right at you.

"Hey," you greet her, the warmth on your cheeks from something more than just the booze.

"I saw you in the kitchen earlier," she remarks. "I thought you'd come say hi, but then you just left."

"Oh, right." She saw you? And she wanted you to say hi? "I didn't want to disturb your, uh... friend?"

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall. "My ex. I didn't even know he'd be here."

"Oh. Bad break up?"

"You could say that." Her gaze drops to the floor and her smile fades soon after.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright, not your fault," she reassures you, meeting your eyes. "He dumped me out of nowhere a couple months ago. Turns out he was cheating and got the girl pregnant."

"Yikes. That sucks."

"Eh," she shrugs, "I've made peace with it. He found out today that the kid's not even his and now he wants me back."

Your jaw drops. "What the fuck?! That's crazy. You're not gonna take him back, are you?"

Mystery Girl chuckles at the thought. "Hell no! No way am I dating that slime ball again!"

The two of you share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. She looks up at the sky, a blank sheet of indigo thanks to all the light pollution, and you follow her gaze because what the hell else are you supposed to do? As you stand here, just barely brushing shoulders with this girl you barely know, all the shitty beers and awkward encounters from every party you've been to all seem worth it. This could be the start of something bigger, or just a brief and fleeting moment in your lifetime; whatever it is, you want to hold it close to your chest until it's gone.

"So," she utters, breaking the silence, "how's your arm?"

"This ol' thing?" You raise up your sling as high as your shoulder will allow you. "Doesn't even hurt."

"Wow, you're so tough and macho," she quips, rolling her eyes playfully. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"For jumping in front of the ball so I didn't get hit. It was... cool."

"Cool?" You raise a brow at her. "Did I look cool when I was being carried away like a princess?"

She giggles—you've never loved a sound more. "Hey, princesses can be cool too! Like, Mulan and that red-head with the bow."

Now it's your turn to giggle. "Okay yeah, but all I did was dive after a stupid ball and—"

"Oh shit!" Suddenly, Mystery Girl pins you against the wall, hands snaked behind your neck and her face close enough to see your reflection in your eyes.

"W-what are you—"

"Just shut up for a second!" she hisses. Her eyes immediately soften. "Please?"

Unable to think properly, you stay frozen in that position, one spontaneous decision away from a kiss. The alcohol has all but flushed out of your system, replaced with this lingering heat in your chest. Every passing second feels like an eternity, an eternity that you're not sure you want to leave for fear of what would happen next. But, like all good things, this moment comes to an end as she pulls away.

"Phew," she sighs, "sorry about that. I thought I saw my ex walking past and just, uh, y'know..."

"Y-yeah, no worries, um..." The tension in the air thickens, and you worry that the darkness isn't enough to hide the burning red of your cheeks.

Thankfully, the awkward silence doesn't last for long as Chaewon rounds the corner.

"There you are, Sakura!" So that's her name. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Oh, hey," Chaewon says, offering you a brief nod.

"Why? Is something wrong?" Mystery Gir—er, Sakura asks.

Chaewon sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "It's a long story. Can we leave? I want a pizza." As if finally realizing your presence, Chaewon suddenly straightens up, eyes squinted as she looks back and forth between the two of you. "Am I interrupting something?"

"N-no, nothing!"

"W-we're just talking and, uh—"

"I was just getting some fresh air and bumped into him—"

"I was actually just about to leave, so—"

"Alright, alright, damn!" Chaewon exclaims, causing the both of you to clam up. "Anyways, can we go now?"

Sakura looks back at you, a look of uncertainty in her eyes. You give her a nod. "Uh, yeah sure, we can leave," she says.

"Cool, I'll call us an uber. I'll let you two finish whatever the hell this is." Chaewon stomps off, leaving the two of you to... finish?

"Um—"

"So—"

The two of you share a chuckle, relieving some of the tension. "You can go first," you offer.

"Right." She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and you swear your heart stops beating for a whole second. "Um, sorry about earlier. I swear I'm not usually like that. I just saw my ex and I sorta panicked and, uh, yeah."

"Like I said, no worries. Shit happens."

Sakura meets your eyes—the tingling feeling in your chest explodes, reaching to all the corners of your being until every cell buzzes with pure electricity. Something about the way her eyes peer at you, the way her lips smile at you, the way her touch still lingers on your nape makes you want to run away and never look back.

You must've been staring for too long as the sound of Sakura's soft laughter breaks you out of your spell. "Do you have a staring problem or something?" she teases.

"Yes. No. Maybe?"

"You're strange." She starts to walk back, each step slow and playful, like she doesn't want to leave quite yet. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah." You smile back at her. "Definitely."

You watch as her silhouette disappears around the corner, and you stay watching long after she's hoping, slightly hoping that she'll pop back, even if it's just for a brief moment.

Sakura—the first coming of Spring.

Like pink petals littering the roads, remnants of her will be present in everything around you—your ears will hear the sound of her laughter where her voice is absent, your eyes will look for her face in every crowd, your mind will be filled to the brim with all of her moments—whether you like it or not.

His four step skincare routine takes at least 20 minutes to do every night. Sometimes you wish it would just take the five that it’s supposed to take.

And don't start about how long it takes to make him apply sunscreen in the morning, bumping his four steps into a whopping five. Your temples throb at the idea of having to do this again in less than 12 hours.

You shrug at him, "you do realize we could be done right now, in bed, snuggling-"

"I'm a man, I don’t snuggle.”

"And I refuse to go to bed with a crusty fiancee. Two fingers.”

“Yeah, I know, I heard you the first time,” he snarls.

“That’s crazy because you aren’t holding out your fingers for me yet.”

He blinks at you, completely unamused, flicking his wrist out at you and extending his middle and index finger for you. You smile and drop a few dribbles of serum in his fingertips. “Rub.”

“I know,” he groans again, smooshing the product into his fingers and ferociously rubbing it into his skin. “It’s been friggen seventeen minutes of two fingers and rubbing.”

You quirk your brow. He grimaces, “yeah, i heard it too, shut up and give me the next step.” You snicker, grabbing the moisturizer from the counter and playing with the cap while he rubs in the product, the sheen of the serum drying and his face relaxing as it does.

It's always facinated you to watch Haruka do this, in a twisted way, subjecting himself to a few minutes of grumpiness to make you happy (and it’s good for him, but you don’t tease him for that) every day, just to satiate you. He’s never been good at saying no to you, but as his brows unfurrow and his hands come back down for the next step, you’re almost positive he’s not as against this as he lets on.

He stops with a exhausted sigh, "next,” he says, holding out his fingers for the next and final moisturizer step. You’re quick to bend down and steal a kiss from his lips, making his eyes blow wide in shock. “The hell?”

“Thats for being a good sport,” you hum, pressing one more to his lips before straightening up.

He huffs, “was starting to wonder when being a good sport was gonna get me somewhere.”

You chuckle and gently dollop some moisturizer on your own fingers and rub them together, gently tipping his chin up to look at you. You gently start to smear the moisturizer on his face, your touch gentle and warm, and Haruka’s eyes gently shut, nuzzling into the palm of your hand. “Okay, now what’s this about?” He asks, but his voice is warbled behind his relaxed jaw, cradled in your hand.

“Nothing,” you mewl, gently cupping his cheeks and even more tenderly, rubbing the delicate skin at the corner of his eyes with your thumb, smoothing the skin from so many creases and wrinkles through the day. Grimacing, scoffing, furrowing, but on the occasion, smiling. “Just love looking at you.”

There’s a beat of silence, as Haruka’s pretty eyes open again, filled with trust and love and complete adoration for you. You smile, “thank you for letting me love you,” you whisper.

He’s quiet, cheeks blazing in a flush, but he’s not sputtering in indignation, nor reeling back from your grip. He’s blinking lazily, dopey from the love swirling in the air. It’s like he knows he doesn’t have to be embarrassed or afraid anymore, he’s safe to do nothing but feel when he’s around you.

He hums.

“Thank you for loving me.”

You smile.

You and Umemiya had been together for a while. You both adored each other, tender kisses and lingering touches were commonplace in your relationship. You had met Kotoha, and the others at the group home and have been attached to his side for almost a year. He wasn’t sure what was holding him back from saying those three little words. Perhaps it was his past, he had lost those who he had nearest and dearest to his heart. Their end unraveled right before his very eyes. Umemiya had so much love to give, and so many people he loved to give it to.

But often, he found it next to impossible to let the words slip past his lips. Instead, he showed his love in different ways. Bringing Kotoha patrons and supplying her with crops from his garden for her restaurant. A warming smile and a promise that Bofurin’s big brother would keep his found family safe. Always the first to offer a listening ear or a shoulder when needed. But never those words. Three short words, one syllable each. He knew he could say them but something deep down was stopping him. An irrational fear that if he had, the one he said it to would go too.

That was before he met you. Umemiya hid his darkness well. A well-placed smile and a childish affect cleared the thought anyone could ever have that the feelings he buried so deep even could exist within him. One you found easily. The light you had brought into his world shone brighter than any darkness that could ever threaten to shroud him. The warmth that settled in his chest when you looked his way. His laughter more genuine since you had come into his life. He knew from the moment he had met you, the moment he had first lost himself in your eyes, that they were the eyes he wanted to get lost in every day for the rest of his life. So why, even after all this time could he not say he loved you?

You had always joked that you had a grey thumb, unable to grow anything and that you were fortunate enough to have his abilities for gardening. One of the things he loved most about you was the amount of effort you put into his interests. He was coming up to the rooftop, it was late summer and he was excited to see what was ready to harvest. He was surprised to hear your voice, looking around the corner he saw you watering the plants. Just as he had shown you how to. “You're looking beautiful today, growing nice and big and strong.” You sighed, feeling ridiculous, shaking your head. You jumped, nearly out of your skin hearing Umemiya’s giggles. “Sunflower what are you doing?” He said between peals of laughter

“I read online that talking to the plants could help them grow, I don’t know how well it’ll work.” You sigh shaking your head feeling a little silly. However, Umemiya’s heart was soaring, you had taken it upon yourself not only to express interest in something important to him but to go out of your way to care for it even when out of his presence. His eyes softened, cupping your cheek he leaned down to slot his lips against yours. The embrace was gentle, lips molding together as if they were only made to be with the other. He parted from you after a moment, breaths fanning against your lips as he spoke. “I love you, my sunflower.” He smiled against your mouth as he kissed you once more, knowing no matter what came next he would be by your side until he drew his last breath.

Tsubaki had only felt comfortable in his own skin in recent years. Having spent so long conflicted with himself regarding his appearance. He was so fortunate that for those who didn’t support his choice in his appearance, he had so many who were right there by his side, rooting him on. But it wasn’t always like that. For longer than Tsubaki cares to remember he was all alone. Forced to walk his path in constant fear of ridicule. He was teaching himself to fight to protect himself from those who would try and hurt him on the sole premise of being true to himself. Those days felt like a lifetime ago. Because now he had Bofurin, because now he had you.

Tsubaki couldn’t forget the first time you had both met even if he tried. He was just starting to dress more feminine, his hair an awkward shoulder length. Still learning how to apply makeup. There were a few boys from his grade who were taunting him, calling him names, and throwing things in his direction. Normally he would have stood his ground, beating them to a pulp for what they were doing. But Tsubaki was tired, tired of having to defend himself, tired of having to be so strong just to live as he chose to. How he felt most beautiful. He wasn’t that strong by choice, he was strong because he had to be. Because Tsubaki had to be stronger than their ignorance. Tears welled up in his vision at their harsh words, about to get up and defend himself once more.

Before he could get to his feet, however, he heard a voice call out, capturing the attention of his assailants. Stood there was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, delicate features enhanced by the soft cosmetics that had adorned your face. He watched with wide-eyed fascination as you ran up, the closed fist of your manicured hand coming into contact with their leader’s jaw, sending him to the ground upon impact. Tsubaki couldn’t move, he watched, frozen as you gracefully fought the group that had been trying to bring him harm. Tsubaki was strong, and more than capable of handling them on his own, but in that moment he learned that he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to fight his battles alone anymore, because now he had you.

He remembered stumbling over his own name when you had asked for it, cheeks a dark shade of red when you smiled at him. He remembered the way your hand had felt in his grasp for the first time as you dragged him back to your house to get cleaned up. Humming as you wiped the dirt from his cheeks, in a very similar manner as you were doing right now. He lay in your bed, your thighs straddling his waist as you hummed, swiping the brush along his cheek, applying the peachy blush you said paired so well with his complexion. You paused in your humming meeting his eyes that gazed up into yours with adoration, giggling softly. “Welcome back, that was some daze you were in. What’s on your mind gorgeous?”

Tsubaki’s cheeks flushed deeper than the powder that painted his skin. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you sent him a smile, soft and full of tenderness. Tsubaki wasn’t sure he believed in love at first sight, but he knew from the moment he met you that he loved you, and over time that love had only grown. Reaching up a hand, thumb swiping your cheek as he returned your loving gaze. “Just thinking about how much I love you, that’s all beautiful.”

Haruka wasn’t familiar with love. Often times he found it nearly impossible to express his feelings. Before coming here, even something as simple as kindness was a foreign concept to him. Being so often judged upon first glance he never got the opportunity to even try to build relationships. So after a while he had given up trying, That was before he came here. Before he was welcomed in with open arms. Before he found the only place he felt like he truly belonged. But you. You had opened up his world to so much more. You showed him what love could feel like, An emotion he never thought he could ever feel let alone have bestowed upon him.

You were much more open with your love, taking care of him when he got sick after a fight, making sure he was eating and taking care of himself. You had teased him relentlessly when you first met. Adoring the deep flush in his cheeks and the reactions you could pull so easily from him. Eventually, that teasing morphed into affection, which blossomed into love. You still had a habit of teasing him, but it was never ill-mannered always coupled with your beautiful laughter. And if he got to hear that beautiful sound bubbling past your lips, he would deal with the heat that graced his cheeks and the pounding in his chest.

You both had been together for quite some time, well past the point of the outbursts you had first been met with when openly showing your affection. Long past the point where he would feel the urge to run for the hills the second you called him one of the plethora of pet names you had bestowed upon him. But he still struggled to verbalize his feelings for you. He knew you were well aware of his feelings toward you. What he couldn’t express through words he showed through his actions. He was eternally grateful to your seemingly unending patience with him. Being well aware of his past you knew he would say it when he was ready. It wasn’t as if he had never said it before, but those times were when you were fast asleep next to him. His fingers carded through your hair as he gazed upon your relaxed features, whispering those three words in the silence of night. But as you lay here in his arms, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours he knew that he needed you to hear how he felt. Not just feel it. Leaning down he brushes his lips against your own, lips slotting together like two puzzle pieces, perfectly fit to one another.

His eyes are soft with fondness as you pull away from the kiss, head tilting to lean into the touch of your hand. His eyes locked with yours, lidded with adoration. His lips melting against yours, arms encircling your waist. He hums thoughtfully against your lips. His heart felt warm, pulling away he looked into your eyes, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, I sit and I think to myself sometimes ‘god I can never love you more than I do right now’ and you consistently test that theory by making me fall more in love with you every day.” His heart raced in his chest, never the best at expressing his emotions, but in this moment Sakura needed to tell you how he felt. Never one to back down, despite being able to hear his heart racing in his ears as he continued to speak.  “Your smile still makes my heart pound, your laugh still makes my head feel fuzzy, and your kisses still make me feel like I’m floating. I love you so much.”

He gives you a soft smile pulling you close once more to kiss your lips, hand now coming to rest at the back of your neck to keep you in place as his lips meld with yours once more. Before moving here Sakura could confidently say that he had never felt at home anywhere. He was alone, perfectly fine never planting roots, he had believed it would always be that way. What he didn’t realize was that home was more than where you returned to at the end of the day. It would be something he found in you. Because his home was right here, in your arms. His home was you.

Suo hummed to himself, walking through the isles of the florist, perusing the flowers. He had made it a habit from your first date to always have fresh flowers for you, showcasing their beauty that in his eyes was rivaled only by your own. When he had presented you with the first bouquet, you had scrunched up your nose reporting to not understand the purpose of a gift that would eventually die. From that moment he decided he would always have fresh flowers to decorate your space. Showing you that their beauty may be temporary but the flora could hold deeper meaning.

He was fascinated by the symbolism of flowers. But he very specifically took delicate care in every single flower that was showcased in a bouquet he arranged for you. For a man like Suo, someone who never showed a crack in his armor, never showing his true feelings often relied on subtle ways to show his love. The first flower he had selected for the bouquet were violets, their heart-shaped petals reflecting their meaning of everlasting love and devotion. Historically a gift of violets was a declaration to always be true. These flowers were common amongst the arrangements he curated with their placement, a promise to offer you the same. The next flower to join the arrangement followed a similar sentiment. Representing strength and love was the gladiolus. It was once believed that the beauty of the gladiolus could pierce another’s heart with love, the same could be said for the way you had done to him. Their purple hue paired nicely with the violets, the color symbolizing the beauty in the love you shared. The flowers to follow would showcase similar significance. Baby’s breath for undying love, calla lilies for beauty, and pink camellias for longing.

Suo was always deliberate in each flower he chose for you, choosing to convey his emotion through the meaning behind each flower he placed delicately in the arrangement. Smiling to himself, satisfied with the selection he had chosen. Sitting at his table as he placed them in their wrapping, being sure to pluck one from the bunch, placing it in a vase so when it began to wilt he would know it was time to gift you a new arrangement. Once he was satisfied, he set off to your apartment, knocking on the door. His signature smile graced his handsome features as he took you in. “Hello there beautiful, I have something for you.”

You smiled at Suo, taking the flowers from his grasp, and replacing the old arrangement with his assistance. You were very aware of Suo’s knowledge of flora, he would often tell you the meanings they held while out together. So much so that you began to look into it yourself. Taking what you knew of the flowers now to assess the arrangement. Eyes soft as you turned to your boyfriend. Hand curling around the back of his neck to pull him down to your level, lips brushing against his. The both of you melted into the tender kiss, your other hand coming to cup his cheek as his found purchase on your waist. Pulling away, you pressed your forehead against his looking into the rich auburn of his visible eye. “I love you too, Haya.” Your words were met with his gentle laughter. Taking one of your hands in his own, his lips brushing against your knuckles. “I love you, more than words could ever express, my sweet baby.”

Suo smiled looking down at you, knowing each flower he had plucked from your bouquets had been dried and coated. Keeping a memento of how despite your initial feelings on the gift, even flowers that have died could still be enjoyed. Those flowers were placed in a special place, kept safe. One day he planned to have the dried flowers arranged into their own bouquet. One he would present you alongside a ring, a promise to love you until the very last one died, knowing these flowers never would.