Mrs.Sakusa

He memorized every step exactly the way you taught him. First came the spray bottle with warm water. Then the kid friendly leave in conditioner he had to get imported from outside Japan. After that, he carefully detangled from the ends upward before using a lightweight curl cream meant for children and sealing everything with a tiny bit of oil.

Satoru approached the routine like studying an opponent. Except in this case his opponent was the most adorable princess with a tender scalp and the patience of a angry little dictator.

Soon he was researching satin pillowcases for kids at three in the morning. Ordering soft brushes that wouldn’t pull on her curls. Watching routine videos while lying across your chest after missions because he refused to be bad at something connected to his daughter.

And honestly, it worked. Satoru Gojo was annoyingly talented at almost everything. Within weeks, his daughter only wanted him to do her hair. Whether it be ponytails, wash and go's, braids, you name it.

“Daddy does the...the braids prettier,” she declared all shy one morning while you stared at her in fake offense.

Satoru looked unbearably smug sitting on the bathroom floor with pink clips between his teeth. “Sorry, baby. I’m simply gifted.”

Your daughter giggled loudly while he separated another section of curls carefully. His large hands moved with surprising gentleness as he twisted each puff into shape. Tiny colorful barrettes covered the counter beside him, organized by color because apparently Satoru had developed opinions about hair accessories.

He held up two clips seriously. “Strawberries or stars?” “Stars!” she answered immediately.

“Excellent choice!" he exclaimed, "you don't want everyone at school to eat'cha up from how much of a cutie you are.”

You leaned against the doorway watching them quietly. Your daughter giggling at his compliments while Satoru clipped the glittery yellow stars into her hair with intense concentration. It was still surreal sometimes seeing the strongest sorcerer alive crouched on the floor arguing with a four year old about accessories.

But Satoru genuinely loved this.

Loved every second of being a father.

He loved the domesticity of it all in a way that surprised everyone around him. Morning cartoons playing in the background. Tiny pajamas dragging across the floor. The scent of crayon wax and Doc Mc'Stuffins bath solution filling his home. He soaked it up like he had been starved for softness his entire life.

Maybe he had been. Afterall, the Gojo clan never gave him moments like this growing up.

He never knew his parents. No one ever sat patiently between his little legs, brushing through his hair while humming under their breath. There was no warmth tucked into the ordinary moments of childhood. No bonding over rushed breakfasts, school uniforms, or getting ready for family events. Those tasks were handled by an emotionally detached maid, efficient but distant. Long before adulthood, Satoru had already grown into someone powerful, isolated, and impossible to reach.

Now he overcompensated by pouring every ounce of affection into his little girl.

“Daddy,” she asked suddenly, “was Mommy pretty when you met her?”

Satoru paused mid twist and stared at her like she’d asked the most ridiculous question in human history.

“Pretty?” he repeated dramatically. “Your mommy was the prettiest person I’d ever seen. Still is too.”

You rolled your eyes from the doorway, but he continued, “the best part is that she looks just like you! You really didn't wanna twin with your old man here huh?" That made your daughter laugh so hard she nearly slid off the counter.

Satoru steadied her automatically with one hand before continuing her hair. The movement was instinctive now. Everything about fatherhood seemed instinctive for him despite how nervous he had been before she was born.

Sometimes you caught him staring at her when he thought nobody noticed. Usually during quiet moments.

Like when your girl was asleep against his chest with one tiny hand fisted in his shirt. Or when she laughed so hard she snorted exactly like you. Or during mornings like this when sunlight hit her bouncy curls and made them glow warm gold around her face.

Every single time, Satoru looked overwhelmed by love.

“She has your eyes,” he murmured softly while fluffing one of her puff ponytails carefully. “And your smile.”

“She's got your boundless energy though,” you added.

“That’s very fortunate for us all.” Your daughter tugged at the fabric of his pants, raising her arms, “I’m funny daddy!”

“You’re hilarious, babygirl!” Satoru corrected immediately before kissing the top of her head and spinning her around. Then he leaned back to admire his work proudly.

Two perfectly shaped curly ponytails with two framing braids in the front. Decorated with gold star clips, and all her curls were perfectly moisturized and shiny without being weighed down. Not a single coil left behind.

“Masterpiece,” he announced confidently.

Their daughter scrambled off the counter immediately and ran toward you. “Mommy look!”

You crouched down with a smile, adjusting one clip gently before nodding approvingly. “Wow! Daddy did a really good job.”

Satoru looked ridiculously pleased with himself over the praise. Honestly, you thought he enjoyed your approval almost as much as your daughter’s.

The little girl sprinted toward the living room after that, curls bouncing wildly while she searched for her toys. Satoru watched her disappear around the corner with this soft expression that still caught you off guard sometimes.

Then he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “She looks just like you,” he said quietly.

You rested against him easily. “She looks like both of us, Toru.”

“I know.” His voice softened further as he watched their daughter disappear into the living room. She had his dimples and his nose, he could see himself in her easily enough, “but every now and then she looks at me and I swear I’m seeing you all over again.”

That made your chest ache.

Because Satoru remembered everything about you with terrifying accuracy. The hairstyles you wore as a teenager. The exact expression you made when annoyed. The first time he made you laugh hard enough to snort. He remembered it all like precious memories carved permanently into his bones.

Now pieces of you existed inside your daughter. And Satoru loved her so much it was almost frightening. From the living room came a loud crash followed by excited giggling. Satoru sighed instantly. “ You were right. Definitely energetic...”

You laughed while he walked away toward the chaos your little girl ensued. A second later your daughter had launched herself directly into his arms without warning. Satoru caught her easily, smiling while she wrapped tiny arms around his neck. Her curls bounced against his shoulder, little glitteryclips glittering beneath the sunlight.

And for a moment he just stood there holding her carefully against his chest.

Like he still couldn’t believe someone so precious belonged to him.

omg my studies have been killinggggggggggggg me like vro i was not built for this T0T ACCIDENTALLY DELETED OG POST UGHHH

tagslist-

iwaizumi hajime & kuroo tetsurou :: loves to be close to you at all times. the gentlemen that loves pda too. likes parading around with your lipstick stains on his face and neck like the proud man he is. he definitely keeps his hand on the small of your back every time especially when you're walking, when he opens the door for you, in a protective manner. ultimate waist grabber too; grocery shopping? one hand on the cart, the other around your waist. he pulls you by the waist too when he wants attention bc he's clingy like that. cooking dinner? if he's helping, he still has his hands around your waist. if he's just watching you, back hug attack *nod nod*

tanaka ryunosuke & nishinoya yu :: loves pda too, is that surprising news? tanaka likes holding your hand, hand, hand at all times. slipping his fingers between your hands and he definitely does the thumb thing and loves keeping his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck and whispering random nonsensical things. he loves kissing your knuckles too randomly. noya loves your hands too but most especially when you cup his face and he would lean in and melt into your touch plus when you combo it with sliding your hands up and down his cheeks to the sides of his neck.

bokuto koutaro :: physical touch and quality time go hand in hand with bokuto. another man who can't keep his hands off you. this man pouts a lot and practically purrs when he's holding you (yes, he's the big spoon) swooning at how adorable you are in his arms. obsessed and literally melts when you touch him everywhere; the type that would hold your hand wherever it is on his body. loves cupping your face and thumbing at your facial features. forehead kisses!! he would admire you all the time and leaves kisses on every inch of your being–oh especially when he holds your hands and kisses every part and lingers a little too much on your fingertips.

matsukawa issei & suna rintarou :: they might seem like they're not the type to enjoy physical touch but that's only when they're not the one giving it. loves giving you back rubs and stroking your hair when you're pressed onto him. when you sleep, he prefers feeling your weight on top of him so he can cradle you, hand on your head while the other is on your back. that being said, they're great listeners and at comforting their significant other. when out in public, or whenever you're feeling overwhelmed, they would crouch down to hold both your hands in comfort, rubbing circles on the back of your hand soothingly.

kyotani kentaro :: more like physical attack jk bro calms down when he's around you. secretly loves throwing you over his shoulder because another love language of his is playfighting. ironically, he loves being the little spoon when you cuddle and that's because he loves feeling your body press on his softly. but when he accidentally goes too hard on you, he'd scramble to his knees, mumbling apologies, to just press his face on your stomach. he loves it. would literally die for it.

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ additionally! they love it when you do that hair thing to them—that thing where you would place your hand behind his neck, rub up and down and scratch up his hair or tussle with it gently. that's one of their very sweet spots and you can't tell me otherwise.

Your boss was adamant about enforcing a strict dress code to maintain a “respectable image.” It was something you’d always been able to understand. However, that didn’t change the fact that you felt like you were walking on broken glass when, at the end of the day, you pushed open the heavy glass doors and ran out of the building.

The sun was already beginning to disappear slowly on the horizon, and a light breeze tugged at your clothes. It was such a beautiful view, and under different circumstances, you would have watched the scene unfold with a gentle smile on your lips.

But now, all you could think about was the pain shooting up through your heels and into your legs, caused by the dreadful pair of high heels your feet were stuck in.

Usually, it was somewhat bearable during the day, since you spent more time sitting than doing anything else, but today had been one of those days… One of those days when absolutely everything went wrong and you had to go from one floor to another and then the elevator wasn’t working and and and…

“Damn things,” you hissed, ready to yank them off your feet and toss them aside, when a voice behind you made you flinch.

“Hey hey hey!” Your eyes darted up, and at the sight of your boyfriend running toward you with a broad grin on his face, the angry wrinkles and lines on your face smoothed out, and even a slight smile crept onto your lips.

His arms wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you so close that you felt like he was going to break your ribs. A stifled laugh escaped you, and—with your purse still slung over your shoulder—you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face against his neck. “Hey, darling,” you murmured, pressing a kiss against the underside of his chin, since the rest was buried in your hair. “Did you miss me?” Koutarou chuckled softly and tightened his grip around your waist. “You can’t imagine how much.”

Suddenly, he lifted you up and began spinning you around in circles. “Kou!” you laughed, gently slapping his shoulder, causing him to look up at you with a grin. “I finished work early on purpose today!” By now, Koutarou had stopped spinning, but he was still holding you up in his arms. Something you were quite grateful for at the moment, as it took the pressure off your feet and calves for a short while.

“Oh?” Your smile was both wide and gentle, and you lovingly brushed a loose strand of hair—still slightly damp from the shower—out of his face. “And is there a reason for that?” Koutarou just shook his head and pressed a kiss to your lips. “No. I love you, that’s all.”

“I love you too, Kou.” With a satisfied smile, he pressed another kiss to your lips before setting you back down on the floor.

However, as soon as your feet touched the ground once more, a sharp, stabbing pain shot up from your heel into your calves, and even though you tried, you still found it hard not to wince. And Koutarou, who was usually so oblivious to such things, seemed all the more focused today. Just as he had been about to pull his hands back, they were resting on your hips again, as if to support you, and a worry line formed on his forehead.

“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re in pain. Did I squeeze too hard?!” In an instant, all color drained from his face and his lower lip began to tremble slightly, as if the thought of having hurt you was causing him pain himself.

But before he could beg for mercy on his knees, you gently placed a hand on his chest and gave him a crooked smile. “Darling, everything’s fine. My feet just hurt from these shoes. I had to walk around quite a bit today.” Instantly, his gaze fell to your feet and his eyes narrowed. “Those should be banned.”

Suddenly, he sank to his knees and ran his hands up and down your calves. Right there in the middle of the street, in front of the building where you worked. You could practically feel your cheeks burst into flames. “Kou! What are you doing?”

He, however, felt the muscles of your calves with an almost professional expression, and when you hissed softly, his eyebrows knitted together. Slowly, he stood up.

“Your muscles are tense.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice.” Your half-hearted attempt at a joke didn’t really land with Bokuto, who looked more serious than you’d ever seen him before, his face clearly showing that he was deep in thought. Suddenly, with a surprisingly smooth move, he slipped an arm under your legs and lifted you with a strength and ease you hadn’t expected, making you squeal. “Kou!”

Koutarou, however, didn’t even bat an eye, but instead used his free hand to take off your shoes, which instantly drew a relieved whimper from you—one you tried to suppress. Your eyes darted from his face, of which you could only see the underside of his chin, to your surroundings to make sure none of your colleagues had noticed what was happening.

Luckily for you, everyone seemed to be either already home or still in the office, as the streets and the glass-enclosed lobby of your office building were completely deserted. You couldn’t look around any further, though, because Koutarou started moving at that moment and, still using only one arm, carried you down the street toward the car he had parked around the corner.

With flushed cheeks, you buried your face in his shoulder so that all you could see was his chest. The beat of his heart vibrated from your cheekbones through your entire body, and there was something surprisingly soothing about that steady thudding. “You don’t have to do that,” you murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed and like a child whose legs had grown tired on a long walk.

Koutarou, however, just chuckled softly, pressed a kiss against your forehead, and tightened his grip around your thighs. “Your feet hurt. What else is the point of having a boyfriend who is a professional athlete if you can’t be carried around every now and then?”

As he said this, he glanced down at you briefly and winked, causing you to press your face even further into his chest, which elicited another soft chuckle from him.

When they reached the car, he opened the passenger door with the hand holding your shoes and gently set you down on the seat. But instead of closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat, he knelt down in front of you again, placed the shoes by your feet, and began massaging your calves carefully, his brow furrowed.

As he did so, a moan escaped you—one that was both pained and relieved—causing the wrinkles on his forehead to deepen. He kneaded your calf muscles for a few more minutes before looking up and smiling crookedly. “When we get home, we’ll run you a warm bath to relax your muscles, okay? And after that, I’ll give you a proper massage on your legs so everything loosens up.”

You pursed your lips and looked at him hesitantly. “You don’t have to, Kou. You’re exhausted too.” He just shrugged, stood up, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “But I want to.”

Hinata Shoyo

With a nervous look in your eyes, you watched as Shoyo walked along the beach promenade with your handbag slung over his arm—because, of course, he’d insisted on carrying it too—drawing the attention of all the other beachgoers. “Love, are you sure this is such a good idea?”

Admittedly, it had been your fault. You’d recently bought a new pair of high heels because your old ones were worn out and practically falling apart on their own, but you needed new ones for work. Since you had to walk around a lot, though, you’d decided that the new shoes needed to be broken in first before you could wear them to work. So you’d brought them along on vacation, and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Shoyo and you had planned to try one of the Brazilian restaurants in town, since after a few years away from there, he’d started to miss the cuisine, and no matter how hard you tried, it was often difficult to recreate that authentic flavor—the one he’d grown so accustomed to—using Japanese ingredients.

So you’d given in—which, admittedly, hadn’t been very hard, since all his raving had definitely piqued your curiosity.

And sure enough, he’d had tears in his eyes when he tasted the first bites, and you’d had to gently stop him from hugging the waiter. 

It had been wonderful, and Shoyo, moved by the meal, had started talking about his experiences in Brazil—something you always loved to hear, because it showed you anew every time just how far he’d come in life—and how incredibly proud you were of him.

Unfortunately, the walk to the restaurant hadn’t been long enough for you to really get a good chance to walk, so your shoes weren’t even close to being broken in, hence Shoyo’s suggestion to take a walk along the beach. Under different circumstances, it might even have been romantic. The sunset was reflected in the sea in warm shades of orange and yellow, making the water’s surface sparkle and shine.

It was still relatively warm, though not so much that you started sweating easily, which is why you walked hand in hand beside him with a quiet smile while he told you everything that came to mind. It could have been so beautiful—if it hadn’t been for the side mission of breaking in the shoes.

There was little you hated more, and this pair turned out to be particularly stubborn. Of course, you’d assumed you’d have to wear them more often to achieve the desired effect, but that didn’t change the fact that your feet were hurting right at that moment and you felt like you were constantly walking on Lego bricks—which meant you were only paying half-hearted attention to your boyfriend.

You didn’t realize he’d noticed this, though, until you eventually looked at him and realized he was looking at you expectantly.

Shit, there had been a question that you hadn’t heard.

You smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Love, but these shoes are a little…very painful. I wasn’t listening to you. Could you repeat that?”

Shoyo, however, looked at you thoughtfully for a few moments before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up onto the low stone wall that separated the promenade from the beach itself. Puzzled, you watched as he sat down next to you and began to untie his sneakers and take them off, along with his socks. “Shoyo, what are you doing?”

Instead, he simply pressed a kiss to your shoulder and knelt down in front of you. Gently, he took off your shoes and examined your feet for a few moments to make sure you didn’t have any blisters or scrapes, before he began putting on his socks and then his sneakers.

You wanted to protest, but Shoyo did all this with such matter-of-factness and calm that you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him. So, with burning cheeks, you watched as he smiled and tied the laces on his shoes, kissed each of your knees, and stood up to brush the sand off his legs.

“You’re cute,” you murmured, pressing a kiss against his cheek, causing him to smile even wider and dimples to appear in his cheeks. “But now you have to walk barefoot, and the streets are dirty.” Shoyo just grinned, though, and there was something boyish about it. “Don’t worry about that.”

And so you found yourself in the situation you were in now, watching anxiously as your boyfriend strode down the promenade with his head held high, wearing shoes that barely fit him. After a few minutes, he’d also taken your handbag so he could get into the “businesswoman vibe” and let the “shoes get used to it” and by then you were no longer able to protest at all; you were far too afraid that he might break or tear something and that you would then have to explain to the entire Jackals team why their “Ninja Shoyo” would only be watching the games for the next few months but not participating in them.

“Shoyo, shouldn’t we turn back?” Your voice trembled slightly with nervousness, since you’d spotted a wooden bridge a few hundred meters ahead of you—one with gaps between the planks that he could and would definitely get stuck in. Shoyo, however, just shook his head stubbornly. “Well, they haven’t broken in yet. And until they’ve broken in a bit, we’re not turning back.”

He took your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “I can’t let my girlfriend have to walk around at work with sore feet.”

If you weren’t so worried about his safety, you might have considered this comment almost touching. “I don’t want you to get hurt!”

Shoyo pulled you close and pressed a firm kiss against your temple. “Don’t worry. I won’t get hurt. I promise.” He tapped the tip of your nose, which at least drew a small smile from you. “I can’t let you worry. What kind of terrible boyfriend would I be?”

A smug smile spread across his lips, and he puffed his chest out almost proudly. “Besides, you’re looking at the repeat catwalk champion of the Karasuno volleyball team. It takes more than a pair of simple stilettos to bring me down.”

“…Say what now?”

Miya Atsumu

Atsumu loved volleyball. You’d known that from the moment you started dating. But over the years, as his career took off, you’d actually managed to find one thing he really didn’t like: the fancy parties and galas he now had to grace with his presence.

Just getting his sulky, whiny body off the couch and into the shower on a night like that was a Herculean task every single time, made possible only by plenty of promises, kisses, and compliments from you.

You, on the other hand, didn’t have nearly as many problems with these events. Sure, there were things you’d rather be doing, but it could be quite nice and nowhere near as awful as Atsumu liked to make it out to be. Y

ou’d already met some very lovely people there, with whom you’d had wonderful conversations whenever your fiancé’s presence was once again stolen from you. And even without conversation, there was usually enough entertainment, drinks, and food to at least get through the evening without getting bored. Overall, it had always been a pleasant experience so far.

But that evening, things were a bit… different. For one thing, the gala had started much earlier than usual. For another—and far worse—there were no seats, just bar tables and pillars to lean against. Which, in this case, meant you’d been on your feet for five hours already and had been cursing yourself since the very first moment for not wearing simple flats instead of high heels.

You’d thought about it beforehand, but Atsumu had practically begged you on his knees to please wear the high heels because they just “looked so incredibly sexy on ya.”

And who could say no to those big puppy dog eyes?

As you clutched your champagne glass and listened with a stiff expression to a representative from a company whose name you’d forgotten, you regretted not having that ability. Your legs ached. Your feet were burning, and your back hurt from standing all the time. You just wanted to go home. However, that wasn’t possible, since Atsumu had been whisked away two hours earlier to take photos with the sponsors and the rest of the team, and you hadn’t seen his blond mop of hair ever since.

By the two-hour mark, any hope of seeing him again anytime soon—and thus of leaving this event—had vanished, which is why you continued to listen to the booming, numbing voice of the older gentleman in front of you.

By now, your grip on the champagne glass had become more than just tense, and you were certain that if this kept up, you’d scream, rip your shoes off your feet, and throw them across the room—even if it meant walking home barefoot.

But just as you were thinking about how you could politely but firmly turn down the man in front of you so you could slip away to the restroom and at least sit on the toilet seat, a warm, familiar hand snaked around your waist and a voice behind you—one you knew all too well—spoke in a slow drawl.

“’m sure my fiancée is listenin’ to you with the greatest of pleasure, but I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us.” Atsumu flashed one of his most charming smiles and, unnoticed by everyone else, squeezed your waist just a little tighter. “’s getting’ late, and I don’t wanna keep her waitin’ any longer. Ya understand?” Now he smiled down at you, a more sincere, smaller smile, and your heart did a flip-flop in your chest. As ridiculous and dramatic and sometimes childish as Atsumu might be, you loved that silly goose more than anything.

The representative quickly apologized and wished you both a pleasant evening before Atsumu guided you toward the exit with one hand on your lower back..

“'m sorry I haven't spent much time with ya today,” he murmured apologetically in your ear, but you just shook your head gently as you waved goodbye to people passing by with a small smile. “You don’t have to. You’re not here just to entertain me.”

He just hummed softly, clearly unconvinced, but he reached out with his free hand and squeezed yours gently yet firmly. You squeezed back encouragingly, and it seemed as though some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders over the hours was beginning to ease.

After you’d said goodbye to his teammates as well—with the exception of Sakusa, who’d barricaded himself in the bathroom after having to shake hands with everyone at the event—you made your way out of the large hall into the hallway, where Atsumu picked up your jackets from the coat check. “My feet are killing me,” you muttered as he helped you into your jacket. “I wish I hadn’t listened to you and worn my flats. Or better yet, sneakers.”

You could see Atsumu grimace. “Sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have influenced ya.” His hand moved up from your hip until it rested on your cheek, and he smiled sheepishly. “But what am I supposed to do when ma girl looks so wonderful? ’m just a man, after all.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully slapped him on the chest, but he simply caught your hand and pressed a kiss against your fingertips, his brown eyes warm and wide. “And as such, I hav’ ta make sure ma girl doesn’t have to suffer any more.”

You should have seen it coming, but you hadn’t expected Atsumu to suddenly drop to his knees at a formal gala, grab your thighs, and without further ado hoist you over his shoulder.

“Atsumu! Are you out of your mind?!” In a panic, your hands flailed through the air, searching for something to hold onto, while all you could see was the back of your fiancé. “There are cameras everywhere outside! We’re going to end up on the front page of the newspaper. Again!”

Atsumu just laughed and dug his fingers deeper into your thighs. “Let ‘em. Why should I care what they think when ’m holdin’ such a grand prize in ma arms?” And as you felt your face flush with embarrassment and tried to avoid eye contact with anyone in your path, Atsumu pushed open the glass door. “Smile, sweetheart.”

Bonus:

MSBY Setter head over heels in seventh heaven—you’ve never seen him like this before!

Below was a picture of him throwing your smiling figure over his shoulder, waving at the camera, and leaving the gala.

You’d hoped it would last a little longer, but the very next morning, your fiancé was beaming at you from the front page of the newspaper. You stifled a frustrated groan. Wonderful—you’d have to spend the next few weeks seeing your face next to your fiancé’s on every social media platform. Your fiancé, however, didn’t seem to mind, as he leaned back against the sofa with a smug grin, reading the posts and comments online over your shoulder.

“You gotta just relax about it, sweetheart. After all, we’ve now made it more than clear just how much I love you!” You just stared at him blankly and raised the hand on which your engagement ring sat. “That’s what this was meant for."

Sakusa Kiyoomi

You’d always known that your damn pride would eventually land you in situations that would be incredibly uncomfortable for you.

But you never could have guessed that one of those situations would be a date with your husband.

It wasn’t that the date itself was an awkward situation—no, definitely not. Kiyoomi had gone out of his way to plan a wonderful evening with you to celebrate your second wedding anniversary, and without wanting to praise him too much, he had pulled it off perfectly.

After you received a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers and you enjoyed dinner at a relatively popular, if rather expensive, restaurant that you’d been gushing about for months, he took you to the theater, where the premiere of your favorite classic was playing, even though Kiyoomi detested rooms filled with lots of people. It had meant a lot to you, and so he had seen it as his duty to grant you this wish.

Kiyoomi looked stunning that evening. He wore a black, tailored suit with a tie that matched the color of the dress he had bought for you just a few days earlier, especially for the occasion. He had even left his mask at home that evening, so you could gaze upon his full, beautiful face.

The play had ended a while ago, and since you’d parked a bit far from the theater, Kiyoomi had suggested taking a quiet evening stroll through the park. It was a pleasantly warm summer evening, and even with the sun already set, you weren’t cold in your dress. The sky was cloudless, and even in the big city, you could see a few stars.

Truly, it could have been a dreamlike evening—if it weren’t for the problem with your shoes.

You see, the dress Kiyoomi had bought went perfectly with the pair of stilettos that had been sitting in your closet for five years and that you hadn’t worn in ages. Now you knew why.

Although your husband had told you several times that it wouldn’t be a good idea since you’d be out and about a lot, by that point the finished outfit already existed in your mind’s eye, and there was nothing in the world that could stop you now—including Sakusa Kiyoomi, who had acknowledged your stubbornness with a roll of his eyes.

And you were right: you looked fantastic. When you left the bathroom and strolled over to Kiyoomi—deliberately provocatively, of course—his cheeks had turned red, and he had cleared his throat with a cough and looked away, flustered. Two years of marriage, and yet you were still able to make him blush and sweep him off his feet.

Unfortunately, he was right too: by the time you left the theater, your feet hurt so much that you really didn’t want to take another step, but then Kiyoomi had suggested going for a walk. And you knew that if you refused, he would flash that smug little smile that was clearly meant to say, “I was right”—and you just couldn’t let that happen, which is why you were now strolling side by side with him through the park, having to suppress a grimace with every step.

You knew that if you said anything, Kiyoomi would immediately turn around and leave the park to go back to the car, but your pride wouldn’t let you do that. Saying something would mean giving up, and you’d be damned before you’d let that happen. So you’d just suffer through it and try to make the best of the moment.

Your head was resting lightly against his shoulder, which served not only romantic but also practical purposes, since it hid your face from Kiyoomi and allowed you to occasionally grimace—despite your best efforts—when a step felt particularly uncomfortable.

Twenty minutes had already passed, and you were sure it wouldn’t be much longer; you were already picturing in your mind’s eye the cold ice bath where you would secretly cool your feet when Kiyoomi stopped in front of a park bench with a heavy sigh.

“You’re such a stubborn woman,” he muttered, gesturing toward the bench as you looked at him questioningly. “Sit down already, before you run yourself into the ground.”

“What…?”

“Sit.” You could have kept walking, insisted that everything was just fine, and thus maintained the charade and your pride. But at this point, you were tired, and the pain wasn’t making your situation any better. On top of that, there was neither mockery nor smugness on Kiyoomi’s face—only a slight frown had formed between his eyebrows, and his eyes were fixed on your face, watching for even the slightest twitch that didn’t belong there.

With a quiet, resigned sigh, you settled onto the bench, and as soon as the pressure was off your feet, you felt like you could breathe more easily.

Kiyoomi was now kneeling beside you and carefully placed your knee over his leg so he could slip your shoe off, which drew a soft hiss from you. Red, sore pressure marks had already formed on your heel and toes where the shoes had pressed too tightly for too long, even leaving noticeable blisters and slight swelling.

His fingers brushed almost imperceptibly across your skin, and he looked at you with a hint of reproach. “I told you not to wear shoes that high.”

And there it was—the reason you hadn’t said a word. You crossed your arms over your chest. “So what? It looked good; you can’t deny that. So, it was worth it.” You refused to look away and stared stubbornly into Kiyoomi’s face. He looked at you for a few moments with an inscrutable expression before gently slipping your shoe back on and standing up, brushing the dirt off his pants.

“You’re right. You look fantastic. Still, you could have told me you were in pain.” He ran his knuckles over your cheek, the cold metal of his wedding ring sending a shiver down your spine, and shook his head. “No matter what my reaction might be.”

Now feeling a little embarrassed at how childish your behavior had been, you looked away. “It doesn’t matter.” You smiled up at him sheepishly. “Let’s go back, okay? It’s getting late.” Kiyoomi nodded, but just as you were about to stand up, he gently pushed you back down onto the bench. “You’re right, it is late. But you’re not moving anywhere.”

Before you could make a defiant remark, Kiyoomi leaned down toward you and gently slipped his arms under your back and legs. You looked at him in surprise as his face was closer to yours than it had been all evening. “What are you doing, Omi?” you blurted out, and your husband just raised an eyebrow. “Carrying you to the car—what else does it look like?”

And before you could protest, he had already lifted you up. “Omi!” Your arms wrapped around his neck, almost in panic. You trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t drop you, but the sudden loss of solid ground beneath you was enough to send a rush of adrenaline through your body.

“Don’t worry,” Kiyoomi simply assured you as he leisurely made his way toward the car. “Before I let you fall, I’ll stop playing volleyball and hug Miya.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 who swears he’s definitely not gonna cry at the wedding, rolling his eyes whenever someone brings it up and insisting he’s “not that emotional,” even though everybody already knows he’s lying.

tamsy who immediately loses that cocky expression the second the doors open and he sees you walking down the aisle, his whole face softening without him even realizing it.

tamsy who just stares at you in complete silence for a few seconds because you genuinely take his breath away, and suddenly all the teasing comments he planned in his head disappear completely.

tamsy who quickly looks away and laughs under his breath when his eyes start burning a little, trying to play it off like nothing’s happening because there’s no way he’s crying in front of everybody.

tamsy who keeps rubbing at under his eyes “just because they’re irritated,” yet the closer you get to him, the harder it becomes to hide how emotional he actually is.

tamsy who mutters a quiet “damn…” under his breath when you finally reach the altar because he honestly can’t think of anything else to say after seeing how beautiful you look.

tamsy who ends up tearing up during the vows instead, especially when he hears the emotion in your voice, and suddenly he has to look down for a second so he doesn’t fully break apart in front of everyone.

tamsy who denies crying afterward even when his eyes are obviously red, immediately grumbling “shut up.” when people tease him about it while still holding your hand tightly the entire time.

tamsy who eventually admits later that seeing you walk toward him was the moment it really hit him that he got to spend the rest of his life with you.

𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐔 who stands at the wedding ceremony looking unusually still, like he’s forcing his body to stay composed, because anything else would mean letting himself actually feel what’s happening.

zanka who thought he had already experienced the worst kinds of pain before—betrayal, abandonment, from his siblings and other things that carved themselves into him too deeply—but somehow this moment hits him in a way he wasn’t prepared for at all.

zanka who goes completely silent the second the doors open, his eyes locking onto you instantly as you begin walking down the aisle, and for a split second he forgets how to breathe.

zanka who feels something crack inside his chest, not like pain exactly, but something overwhelming and unfamiliar that makes his throat tighten in a way he doesn’t understand at first.

zanka who instinctively grips his own hand behind his back just to ground himself, because his emotions are rising too fast and too strong for him to keep under control.

zanka who tries to process it logically at first—why does this feel heavier than everything else I’ve survived?—but realizes it’s because this isn’t loss or betrayal… it’s love being given back to him so freely.

zanka who watches you get closer and feels his composure slip in slow, almost silent pieces, his expression tightening as he fights the urge to react at all.

zanka who finally exhales shakily when you reach him, his voice lower than usual when he quietly says your name, like he’s grounding himself in it.

zanka who doesn’t fully cry at first, but his eyes go glassy and unfocused, like he’s holding back something too big to name, and it frustrates him that he can’t control it the way he usually does.

zanka who finally lets out a quiet, broken breath when the ceremony ends, still not fully understanding the emotion in his chest, but holding your hand tighter anyway because he knows one thing for certain; he’s not letting go.

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀 who stands very still and proper, hands folded neatly in front of him, face calm like always—but his eyes are already softer than usual, like he’s quietly waiting for something important.

corvus who looks up the moment the doors open, and the second he sees you, his expression changes just a little—his eyes soften, his shoulders relax slightly, and he stops blinking for a moment.

corvus who watches you start walking down the aisle and doesn’t move at all, like he’s afraid even the smallest movement will make him miss a second of it.

corvus who feels his chest get tight in a way he doesn’t fully show on his face, but his breathing slows because he’s trying to stay calm while his emotions build up inside.

corvus who slowly starts tearing up, but quietly—his eyes just get a little glassy at first, like he didn’t even notice it happening.

corvus who keeps looking at you the entire time, taking in every detail: your steps, your expression, the way your clothes move, like he wants to remember this moment forever.

corvus who gently lowers his gaze for a second when it becomes too much, then looks back up right away because he doesn’t want to miss you coming closer.

corvus who quietly wipes under his eye once, very carefully and subtle, like he’s still trying to stay composed and respectful in front of everyone.

corvus who lets a small, soft smile show even while his eyes are wet, because he feels proud and happy, not overwhelmed in a bad way—just deeply moved.

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐙𝐀 who is already emotional before the ceremony even starts, pacing a little, fixing his outfit over and over, acting loud and confident—but his voice is a bit too shaky when people talk to him.

the second the doors open he literally stops moving mid-breath because he sees you and completely forgets how to function.

august who immediately starts crying the moment you take your first step down the aisle, no warning at all, just full tears because he’s already overwhelmed seeing you like that.

august who doesn’t even try to hide it—he’s wiping his face, laughing through it, crying harder at the same time, like he’s too happy to care how he looks.

august who keeps pointing at you like “that’s my girl” under his breath, even while his voice cracks and he’s basically sobbing openly in front of everyone.

august who looks at you like he’s seeing the best thing in the world, completely in love, completely unbothered by how loud he’s crying.

august who sniffles loudly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, but still keeps his gaze locked on you the entire walk down the aisle like he can’t look away for even a second.

august who cries even harder when you get closer, laughing and saying “you’re so pretty, what the hell!” in between tears because he’s genuinely overwhelmed.

august who proudly tells everyone afterward, still teary-eyed and smiling big, that he cried because he’s lucky and he’d do it again every time just to see you walk toward him.

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐍 who’s shoulders relaxed but his hands slightly tense at his sides, like he’s trying to keep everything calm on the outside.

gris who looks up when the doors open, and the moment he sees you, his expression softens so quickly it almost feels like it happens before he can even think about it.

gris who watches you walk down the aisle without saying a word, his eyes following you carefully like he’s afraid to miss even a single step.

gris who slowly starts to tear up, but very quietly—his eyes just get a little glossy at first, like he’s trying to blink it away but it doesn’t work.

gris who keeps his breathing slow and steady, but his gaze never leaves you, like he’s fully focused on you and nothing else in the room exists.

gris who looks down for a second, pressing his lips together, then looks back up at you again because he can’t stop himself from watching you.

gris who softly wipes under his eye once, very small and careful, like he doesn’t want to draw attention to it at all. he lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a tiny laugh, because he’s emotional but in a warm, gentle way.

gris who smiles softly through his tears when you get closer, his expression calm but full of love, like he’s proud just to be standing there waiting for you.

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐎 who looks calm from a distance, but if you pay attention you can see he’s nervous the whole time—fingers twitching slightly, swallowing a bit too often, standing a little too stiff at the ceremony.

follo who keeps telling himself he’s fine, that he can handle it, but the moment the doors open and he sees you, all of that disappears instantly.

follo who goes completely still like his brain just stops working, because seeing you in your wedding outfit hits him so hard he can’t even react at first.

follo who feels his chest tighten immediately, like all his nervousness turns into something bigger and heavier, and he has to blink fast just to keep his eyes from burning.

follo who starts tearing up way faster than he expects, like he didn’t even get a chance to prepare himself before it happens. he tries to look away for a second because it feels too overwhelming, but he just can’t—his eyes keep going back to you no matter what.

follo who quietly wipes his face with the back of his hand, a little embarrassed, because he’s clearly emotional but also trying not to make it obvious.

follo who lets out a shaky breath when you get closer, like he’s holding himself together by a thread, and his voice almost fails him when he whispers your name.

follo who looks like he’s on the edge of crying fully, but it’s not messy—it’s just pure overwhelm, like he can’t believe you’re really there, walking toward him.

follo who is still visibly teary during the vows, but he keeps looking at you with soft, overwhelmed eyes like he’s terrified of losing the moment even though it’s already his.

𝐅𝐔 𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑 who stands at the ceremony very quietly, shoulders a little stiff, eyes lowered most of the time because he’s trying so hard to keep his nerves under control.

fu who keeps swallowing and breathing slowly, because his heart has been beating fast since the moment the ceremony started and it only gets worse the longer he waits.

fu who looks up when the doors open and sees you, and instantly goes still like his whole body forgot how to move. he feels his heart jump so hard it almost hurts, and he has to grip his hands together in front of him just to stop them from shaking.

fu who watches you start walking down the aisle and slowly starts to tear up, not in a loud way, just quiet emotion building in his eyes. then he looks away for a second because it feels too intense, then looks back right away because he can’t stop himself from watching you.

fu who quietly breathes your name under his breath without even meaning to, like his feelings slipped out before he could control them.

fu who keeps blinking a lot, trying to calm down, but his eyes are already glassy and soft as you get closer. he looks like he’s overwhelmed in a gentle way—no panic, just pure emotion and nervous love mixing together in his chest.

fu who gently reaches for your hand when you finally reach him, his fingers still slightly shaky, but he holds on like he needs the contact to stay steady.

fu who softly looks at you during the vows, still a little teary, but his heart finally slowing down a bit now that you’re right there with him.

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐋 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍 who looking completely unreadable at first, with calm face, steady posture, no visible reaction—like nothing in the world could shake him.

zodyl who sees you appear and doesn’t move at all, but something in his gaze changes—so slight it would be easy to miss, like his focus sharpens completely on you.

zodyl who feels something unfamiliar tighten in his chest the moment you start walking down the aisle, like an old instinct he doesn’t fully understand trying to surface.

zodyl who stays silent the entire time, but his breathing slows, heavier than before, because the emotion hits deeper than he expected and he doesn’t have a name for it.

zodyl who doesn’t cry openly, but his eyes soften in a way that contradicts everything about his usual cold expression. he keeps staring at you like he’s trying to memorize every step you take, as if this moment is something he refuses to ever forget.

zodyl who briefly looks away, almost annoyed at himself for feeling anything at all, then looks right back because he can’t stop watching you.

zodyl who subtly clenches his hand behind his back, grounding himself, because the feeling in his chest is too strong to ignore but too unfamiliar to show.

zodyl who finally speaks your name when you reach him, voice low and controlled, but there’s a quiet weight behind it that gives him away.

𝐉𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 who is already buzzing with energy before the ceremony even starts, unable to stand still for more than a few seconds, talking too fast, grinning like he’s about to explode.

jabber who tries to act “cool” at the event but keeps shifting his weight, cracking his neck, and laughing under his breath because he can’t handle the anticipation.

jabber who the second the doors open just loses it completely—eyes snapping to you like a switch flipped in his brain. he starts laughing out loud in disbelief while also tearing up at the same time, like his emotions are fighting each other and neither is winning.

jabber who points at you like “that’s you, that’s REALLY you,” even though everyone can see you, because he’s too overwhelmed to act normal.

jabber who starts talking nonstop mid-walk—half compliments, half nonsense, all emotion like “you’re insane, you look insane, i can’t believe this is real—”

jabber who is openly crying now but still smiling huge, wiping his face with his sleeve and laughing like he’s having the best moment of his life. he nearly steps forward too early because he just wants to grab your hands immediately, like he physically can’t wait anymore.

jabber who finally gets to you and immediately holds your face or your hands too tightly, shaking his head like he still can’t process it.

jabber who keeps blurting out “i’m done, i’m actually done, i love you so much” in between laughing and crying, completely unfiltered.

𓏲⠀denki ：ྀི i think he would totally treat your island like his own personal reality show. he is absolutely the type to give everybody god awful outfits and give them even worse catchphrases just to hear you giggle. but underneath all the chaos, he secretly gets sooo happy whenever your miis interact :c like he’ll act all smug about it while smiling at the screen. “guess even digital me got game.” . . . but really, that’s far from the truth.

𓏲⠀shinso ：ྀི pretends he’s above it at first, he really does try . . . until you catch him watching over your shoulder while his mii is taking care of your own miis hiccups. trying to be nonchalant while mumbling a : “what’s wrong with her now?” while walking by sipping on a cup of espresso. shinso makes dry little comments the entire time he you force him to watch you play, but you can tell he’s paying attention to everythingggg. especially your mii. and he’s definitely the type to lowkey get attached to the routine of it all — sitting beside you late at night while you click away ! ! bonus points if he tries not to smile when your mii asks to move in with his first.

the apartment was quiet, it was late and the city lights bled softy between the curtains, all while the hum of traffic was somewhere far below.

you were both in bed. well, technically, bakugo was on top of you--thankfully not too heavy, just close. one arm was around your waist, the other was tucked under your back, all while his face was buried in the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin and you could only assume his eyes were closed, he was relaxed in such a way that made it seem like he had no intention of moving for the next decade. these were the nights you loved, when he was free from patrol and all his hero duties.

it was rare to have this kind of stillness and you were sure many, many people would be baffled that the number five, pro-hero dynamight could exist like this.

"you're warm," he muttered into your neck, voice rough and sleepy from the long day.

you smiled while your fingers brushed lazily through his untamed hair.

and, if it was even possible, he pressed closer.

it was such a sweet, simple moment that you almost felt bad about the phone that you held above him. it had been recording for a few seconds now.

it was just for a trend mina had shown you earlier (and, of course, you have absolutely no intention of sharing it to anyone), but it was something stupidly cute to torture him with.

"he doesn't know when you're recording." she'd said. "that's the whole point."

you laughed lightly, "seems kind of mean."

well, bakugo definitely didn't know.

he shifted slightly and lovingly tightened his hold on you. then, his voiced dropped a little and he drawled out the words, "don't move."

"i'm not moving," you whispered in return, amused.

"good."

there was a pause. you almost didn't want him to see the camera and ruin the moment.

his hand flexed slightly at your waist as if he was checking that the moment was real, that you were real.

"stay here." he mumbled into your neck.

"you're clingy." you teased gently. even after all this time, he still gave you butterflies.

"shut up." he said, though there was no bite to it, only comfort.

his head sank deeper into your neck again and, for a moment, you thought he'd fallen asleep like that. his breath was so quiet and steady and the weight of him felt so familiar now, it made your heart ache a little.

then he murmured a little absentmindedly, "love you.." it was so soft that you almost missed it. your fingers paused in his hair, all the while the other hand kept the phone steady.

you had a small, more-than-content smile. "yeah, i know."

he hummed like that answer satisfied him.

then, bakugo shifted his head upward a little and pressed a soft kiss to your jaw.

that's when his sleepy, crimson eyes caught the dim light from the corner of his eye.

"what is that..." he muttered sleepily.

you stared at the ceiling when he shifted his head slightly, just enough to look up... just enough to see your phone... still recording.

the second bakugo fully registered what he was seeing, his eyes locked onto the camera and he jolted.

honestly, jolted is a bit of an understatement. the blond practically jumped back off of you so fast that the blanket shifted, then his hand snapped up instinctively like he was about to detonate the room out of pure reflex.

"WHAT THE HELL-"

he was already halfway from falling off the bed, glaring up at the phone then back to you like you had betrayed him more than anybody ever had.

you could already hear denki's stupid voice saying, "good one y/n, it could get, like, twelve million views."

"the hell is this!?"

you wheezed a little, "it's just a trend-"

"A TREND?"

"yes!"

"I'LL CREMATE YOU." at that, you lost it. you fell back onto your pillow and laughed, all the while he just sat there with messy hair and looking at your phone like it was the worst villain he'd come across. "DELETE IT NOW."

"i was gonna-" you tried to speak, still laughing, "i was literally gonna-"

"I'M NOT BEING RECORDED IN MY OWN DAMN HOUSE." he barked out and turned his head away, acting like he could escape embarrassment that way.

from somewhere deep in your laughter, you managed to speak, "you were being cute."

at that, he whipped his head back. "DON'T CALL IT THAT!"

"you're ashamed of love, katsu." you teased as your hand went out to pull him back into bed, the other hand putting your phone down.

despite his yelling, he leaned into your touch without fight. though before he could lay down, he leaned across you and grabbed your phone and threw it onto his side of the bed. you had to restrain yourself from calling your boyfriend dramatic.

then, he grabbed the blanket and yanked it up over the both of you. it looked like he was trying to erase the entire incident from reality.

"...whoever gave you this idea is dead." he muttered.

you were still smiling into his shoulder when he finally settled back down. he was a little grumpy and flushed, refusing to look directly at you now. but his hand still found your waist again anyway.

i just want to say how thankful i am for all the likes, comments, and reblogs. i just started this blog and it truly is so exciting and means a lot! also, if you send in a request, i got it but it might just take me a moment! (i'm graduating in 3 weeks and then i'm all yours) <3

tag list : @paleepeaches (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

He always does, but he mimes reflection as he makes his way slowly next to you. His hands are behind his back as he looks closer to the yellow flower, humming along. 

"This is a Dahlia. It represents elegance, strength and creativity," he starts, stealing a glance your way only to see you watching him like he holds the most precious knowledge. "It symbolizes lasting bonds in friendship and is a great gift anniversary for an enduring relationship." 

You nod along, drinking his words with a small hum, staring at the flower for a few seconds before turning his way again. 

"Do you like them ?" you asked sharply. 

"I do," he shrugs. "They're not my favorite, but still pretty." 

"I'll give you some then," you declared, straightening your back so it seems more assured. Or so your blush would go on a second plan. 

As you did so, as you looked at him as if he was your whole world, the wind decided it could add something to the scene and made your hat fly away. You were a second too late to catch it, Suo was too stun but the look on your face to react and you stay like this for a second, looking at each other before you giggle.

His face went cold when a guy came behind you and touched your shoulder gently, your hat in hand. 

"That's yours ?" He asked, a huge smile on his lips.

He might just be polite, but Suo knows when someone's using charms to get what they want – he's the first to do so. He hated the way his hand stayed on your shoulder a second too long, how he smiled at you a little too friendly for simply helping around. It gets worse when he starts complimenting your outfit.

"It would've been a shame to lose the perfect accessory, don't you think ?" 

"You're right," he stepped in front of you before he could take a step closer, with a cold stare that could kill. "Thank Gods, you were here. Now they look perfect for couple pictures." 

His smile was nothing but welcoming and after a quick nod, he took your hand in his and turned away without a second look. A soft giggle escapes your lips.

"You're so mean sometimes, he was just being nice," you comment gently, squeezing his hand. 

"Nice, huh." 

Then it hit you, and a gasp left your lips. 

"You're jealous of someone else helping me ? Really, Hayato?"

He hesitated in his step, barely noticeable, but sadly for him, you know him well now. 

"Of course I'm not," he scoffed. "Why would I be jealous of him ?"

"You tell me," you flirted, hitting his shoulder with yours. "But you can't lie to me anymore, my dear." 

Despite himself, a tender smile grew on his lips. That's true, he lets you in too deep now to play this kind of game on you, and he's not sure how to feel about it yet. 

Sakura is not difficult, he's really not, he follows you around like a stray cat who's taking a liking to you. So when you told him you wanted to go makeup shopping, he didn't hesitate before saying he'll tag along. He just likes spending time with you, no matter what you're doing. 

He didn't argue when you asked for his arm and started swatching the product on his skin. He didn't mention how much he hates lipstick's texture or how annoying he finds glitter to be – it was all worth it if he could see you with a big smile on your lips and talking excitedly. 

"You see, this," you pointed at the baby pink line on his wrist, "would work wonders with another blush I have at home!" you said excitedly, barely looking up to him that you were already looking at something else. 

He has no idea what you're talking about, but you love this so much, you're so specific about it and know so much that he can't help it but listen carefully to every word coming out of your mouth, holding on to your smile and does his best to participate.

"I– I'm sure it'll be pretty !" he assured as if he had no idea what you were talking about. 

You know that, and yet you look at him sweetly and smile every time. "You think so ? Maybe I will get it then." 

His heart stops when your eyes stay on him a second longer, a fondness he doesn't know how to answer yet. His face turns pink all the time, but he loves this, coming with you, he really does. He never thought he'd get fed up about it. He gladly follows you around the store, just to compare or see something else, then come back where you were – or to ask for a missing product to the staff. 

Until a rather passionate conversation started between you and the staff member. Sakura had no idea what was going on or what you were talking about, and maybe it was the worst. Seeing you with someone else, talking about your interest passionately, made his blood boil but not with anger – rather with something more sneaky, that adequately made him feel like a fool in front of you. He couldn't talk, at all, only stares at you and the way you smile and giggle with the person next to you while leaving him behind and out of it. He hated it.

To not help it, it seems to take hours all of sudden, as if so many things could be said about three products and he believed it, truly. He just wished you were talking with him. He has no idea how to reach out to you, would it be rude if he talked and asked what you were talking about ? Or simply tug your sleeve so you pay attention to him again ? He feels bad for the unnecessary hatred he feels about them – they're just doing their job. But are they ? The way they smile at you seems a little more than polite, more than just happy to talk with someone like this, more than–

"Let's go, Haruka ?"

Just like that, you tug on his shirt and bring him back to earth, back to you and your pretty eyes only looking at him. He feels flush at the sweetness in your voice, but nod anyway, following you to the cash register.

"You– you thought they were cool, no ?"

Your ears tilt at the shy tone of his voice, but don't mention it at first. "What do you mean ?"

"You could talk with them easily, it must be what you want in your partner, right ?"

You swore your heart broke at his words. Never, even for thousands of yens would you trade your boyfriend – for him to feel insecure? You definitely failed. You turned him away after the lady gave you your bag and took his hand in yours. You didn't stop to talk to him, it would be too much, instead you slowly walked out of the shop with him.

"I'm not looking for someone like myself, Haruka," you started, maybe sounding a little too serious than you wanted to.

"And I don't even want somebody else. Ever. You're the best boyfriend I could ask for and, even if you can't talk about it with me, you always listen carefully. That's enough for me."

On that, you stopped in your tracks and kissed his cheek, and his heart stopped. For everything you just said, the weight of your words taking him in a comforting embrace. That's exactly what it felt like, dating you, and he would never trade it for anything either. 

If there is one thing Kiryu really loves to do, it must be window shopping at the mall with you. He loves shopping more, maybe, but he honestly can't afford much yet and neither do you. As long as he spends time with you, he's happy. So he doesn't care to stay around beauty shops or bookstores the longest if that's what you want. Yet, the best is still when you two spend hours around clothes shops.

After spending countless hours around most of the shops in the mall, running around the hallway, talking about all the things you'll get when you'll be rich and joking about the fact that he's, in fact, already rich, you two decided you deserved a sweet break. That's how you end up sitting at a pretty Café, a frappuccino in front of you as Kiryu shows you the next phonecase he wants to get.

"Doesn't it look just like one you already have ??" you asked, frowning as you were SURE he had the same at home already.

"Nooooo, look," he brought his screen closer to your face, "see, that's a bit different there and I prefer this color honestly. The cat is pretty cute, don't you think?"

You titled your head to the side, not fully convinced but nod anyway, because it was in fact, very cute. You took his phone off his hands to run through his order, taking a look at the few he added and doing your best to de-influence him, when a hand brushed on your shoulder.

Looking up, a girl was smiling at you with a smile reaching her eyes. They were shining as she looked closely at your outfit and how you put together you look.

"I love your style and outfit so much !" she said excitedly, not so shy despite the blush on her cheeks.

Of course you smiled back, turning her way. "Thank you so much ! Your top is pretty too, where did you get it ?"

As you two started exchanging brands and cool websites, Kiryu started pouting on his side. You both have an amazing sense of style and it shows. It's not the same vibe, each of you had their things and that's what makes you stand out the most you think. There's nothing new for people to come out of their ways to compliment either of you, but something in this girl seemed a little too friendly for him.

He didn't quite like the way her eyes go around your body so many times, touching your necklace as she asks for the brand, making sure her fingertips brush your skin. He hates it, being jealous of a girl, it doesn't really go with his values. Yet he can't help but feel threatened at the moment, without knowing how to reach out to you. He'll pass for a possessive guy anyway.

"This ? It's a gift from my boyfriend! Mitsuki, where did you get this again?" your voice cutting right through his internal rambling, you took him off guard, but in a good way.

The girl frowned, barely but still, and he knew he was right about her. His eyes stayed glued on you and your pretty smile.

"I got it from Taobao, Chinese have great products and good quality, after all," he answered with a faux smile to her.

"Now please, we're on a date soooo," he added gently, but anyone could sense the venom he was holding back.

She gulped and excused herself quickly, not wanting to overstep even more. Waving her goodbye, you turned back to him with an eyebrow lifted.

"Really ?"

He shrugged. "She was a little too friendly for me."

"She was just asking Mitsuki," you added, trying to make your point but not mentioning it anymore after.

It wasn't your goal to make him feel bad about his feelings. It was just insane, in your point of view, for him to even feel jealous when you're so head over heels for him. Taking his hand in your, you left a kiss on his fingers, before going back to your discussion. But you didn't miss the way his eyes widened before getting soft again.

"You love me so much, don't you," he said, cutting you off.

"I fear I do," you giggle back, not letting go of his hand.

Umemiya's eyes narrowed in the distance, fixed on you and the heated conversation you were having with Tsubaki about Gods know what. He loves it deeply, seeing you being close to his friends, happy and comfortable with them. The warm smile on your lips is something he never wants to lose, it doesn't matter if it comes from him or not.

He's lost count how many sleepovers Tsubaki and Momose had to your place. He can only imagine how late you three actually get to bed. All afternoon you spend there, drinking tea and talking about life with Hiiragi. From the weather changes because of the climate to the times he and his friends had to fight their way to the top.

Hiiragi helps you with a lot of your worries when Umemiya can't seem himself to do as much as he wished he could. Tsubaki helps you express yourself more. Momose offers you to get to know more about art and Mizuki to be the nerd you are deep inside. His friends are totally yours now, and for that, he's thankful. Deeply.

Yet it leads him to the point he feels a little left out, even if you still spend the majority of your time with him. Sometimes, seeing you spending afternoons or moments with them instead of him makes him get through mixed feelings as he had a hard time finding his place around. So, sometimes, he tends to be a little more territorial about you.

He knows he shouldn't impose his presence right now, not when you're half whispering with Tsubaki, sitting on the ground around a cola, but he can't help it but walks your way. Tsubaki saw him first, not really expecting him since he seemed quite busy the second before.

"What is it, Tsubaki ?"

You barely have time to ask that Umemiya is dropping on the ground dramatically behind you, his arms hugging you close immediately. You jumped a little, taken aback since you didn't hear him at all, but you're just as astonished as Tsubaki. You two exchange a question gaze before your hand finds his hair by reflexes.

"You ok, Hajime ? What is it?" your voice is soft, the same way it is when he's upset or insecure.

He knows he's outside on the rooftop, but your voice brings him back to the safety of your room, inside your embrace at night when he feels like crying, letting all out.

A relaxed sigh left his nose. Yeah, there's nothing better than having you close, at the end of the day. It feels like all his negative emotions vanished into the warmth coming from your body. He's already hot, and probably sweaty, and he's glad you don't mention it.

"Hajime ?" you ask again, not receiving an answer.

"Hum, I'm fine now," he whispers in your neck, his hair tickling your cheek a little. "Can I stay there a little?"

"Sure."

He can hear the smile in your voice as you lean more into his embrace. You continued your conversation like he wasn't there, but your hand now resting on his arm and playing with the few veins popping out.

He doesn't need you to say it to know you read the room – he gets clingy when he feels left out or jealous, and it's fine by you. You'll always be there to answer.

Kaji knows he has no right to feel like this. He only got to meet you and spend time with you because Kusumi is close to you. He knows that. He barely talks with or to you, and he tends to be a little aggressive every time it happens on top of that. He's surprised you're still answering him at all – he would hate himself if you stopped. It doesn't seem like you two have much in common, or to talk about; and since he's always on his phone so maybe – just maybe – you think he doesn't want to talk most of the time.

Which can be the case, but if it was you, he'll drop everything he was doing and listen to you, anytime. Not that he ever told you that. Again, you two barely talk. That's why he doesn't understand why he feels so damn jealous when he sees you talk happily with Kusumi.

He's your friend before you're his – if you even consider him a friend. It's normal to talk like this with one of your closest friends, about everything and anything, really. To smile their way when they agree with you, to laugh when their joke hits just right, to look at them with genuine happiness and comfort. Kaji on the other hand is nobody to you, he barely knows you, and you barely know him.

So why does it feel like he's about to get sick ? Like the sugar of his lollipop felt like too much, resting heavy on his stomach. Why does it burn inside like he just got betrayed ? Why does he want to be in Kusumi's place so bad it hurts. He had no right to that : your time, your smile, your laughter, the way your eyes wrinkle when you smile too hard. Yet he's longing for it, never able to take his eyes off you.

He wished he was the one you were going to help find a better shampoo for his dry hair after bleaching it so much. He wished he'd get to know why you wear your makeup like this lately because you see this trend and you prefer it to another. He wished you would smile his way a little more just because you like being around him, not just to say goodbye.

Maybe if he was a little less armed around you, you'll drift closer to him? You'd start asking about his day when you're both at the back. Damm, he'll lend you his headset if you ever ask what he's listening to.

But none of this will happen if he doesn't take the first step, and he's too scared to do it.

What if you don't care about him? Not the way he wants you to ? He has no idea how he'll react. So he sticks to watching you from the sidelines, getting all he can get without risking anything – not that he's content with it.

A sigh left his nose when he realized his lollipop was done, before taking one out of his pocket. There, a sound caught his attention despite the high volume, or maybe it was you, so he was paying extra attention. He took off his headset, looking your way only to find your pretty smile toward him this time.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Can I have one please?? I'm so hungry, I might faint right now, some sugar would be great !" you asked, a little theatrical.

"You should eat then, the fuck," he frowned at you, out of worry, but still got out a few from his pocket.

"I'm eating with a friend not even 40min from now, I'll wait for this !"

"You should still eat," he scolded gently. "What do you want ?"

"Strawberry milk please !"

The last one was in his hand, he was about to open it. He took a moment to look around for another one, even going through his bag to see if he had one left. None. Yet, he didn't hesitate and gave it to you.

"There."

Even if it's his favorite too.

Nirei had no idea how to treat this information. It was just supposed to be a chill date, all he had to do was meet you and go to the new Cafe you wanted to try with him – that's all. How could it go wrong from the first step?

When Nirei showed up at the meeting point, he expected to see you ready to leave on sight! A pretty outfit and eager to go. Instead, you were talking with a guy he didn't know – and that takes a lot. So, like any normal person he started to panic. What if he was harassing you ? You seemed to smile a little too much for that, and not the tensed type either. After going through all the possible possibilities, he concluded he was probably some close friend he never heard of, but something still felt off. He was scared to take one more step closer, his mind jumping straight to the worst case scenario.

He could hear the two of you talking, making everything worse. How did he know your favorite color or even your favorite brand ? Did you ever go to the restaurant you keep talking about with him ? He seemed to know it really well. Too well.

"You should come by ! Like back in the days, they'll be happy to see you," the guy laughed, and so did you.

"Sure !" You sounded a little too happy about it. "Are they doing well ? Is your mom doing better too ?" you asked right after, more concerned this time.

"Yes ! She's back and she still make the best curry ever," he confirmed, making you hold your stomach with a smile.

"I'll die for it I think!"

Nirei started spiraling. It was definitely more than a close friend to know so much about you. How did he never heard of him ? It wasn't that the informations were hard to get, everybody knows how much you love curry, but the way he knew your favorite restaurant for it that made him tilt. It took Nirei so much time before you invite him there, before you even talked about it, because you wanted to keep it your secret spot. He hated it.

"Akihiko ? I was waiting for you !" your voice pierced through the street as you waved at him.

He freezes for a second before jogging to meet you, trying to match the smile on your face.

"Talk about a coincidence ! This is my childhood friend, you know the one that got to a different junior school. He's back in town !"

You were so happy, you didn't even notice Nirei's shoulders falling or caught the sigh of relief he let go.

"He's inviting us to his parents' restaurant, we really should go soon ! We can even bring Sakura and Suo, if they want."

You were impossible to stop, so happy that you got to see him again, that Nirei barely had a place to approve. But honestly, he likes this better. He got to put a face on his name, and it sat better with him.

Soon after he arrived, you parted ways to finally leave for the said Cafe. You could tell Nirei was less tense than he was when you first met him this afternoon. Stealing a glance to him, you asked.

"What were you so tense about ?"

He jolted at the question, but sigh faintly.

"I didn't know who he was but he knew such specific things about you that I got upset about it," he admitted shyly, running his hand through his hair.

A small blush showed in your face but you looked away quickly, finding it more hot than you should.

"But since he's your childhood friend, it makes sense ! I just got carried away," he tried to tempered down himself, before you could say anything.

You took his arm between yours in response, keeping him close for a second.

"You know me the best, don't worry about that," you giggle. "You're the only one I take to ALL my favorite places, that should be enough to realize how special you are, don't you think ?"

The knowing look in your eyes told him all he had to know, how genuine you were and how important it was to you that he knew it. Everything was long forgotten the second you smiled his way earlier, but now, there is no way he'll ever think someone is doing better than him.

Togame checked his phone one more time, before closing it again. No text from you and 5 minutes late. It wasn't your type, but anything could happen, after all. You were supposed to meet him after school, since your club activities were canceled today, you asked him to spare time for you and he gladly did. He'll spare all the time you ever need, ask him to come in the middle of the night and he's on his way with your favorite continence store drink and snack.

Yet if there was one thing in your relationship, it was to let the other know if you're late, even a few minutes, that's what makes him tilt.

After a small stretch, he decided to move and met you half-way – hopefully you weren't too far and just forgot to text him. Despite himself, he still picked up his pace, just in case something happened to you. He'd never forgive himself for leave you alone longer.

Taking a corner, Togame found you there, talking with a guy, with a hand resting on your arm. It didn't take him more than a minute to arrive beside you, pushing the guy away and pulling you to his chest.

"Back off," his voice is so low, it sends shivers down your back.

He didn't need to waste any more second, you've spent enough time with some stranger to his liking and he was ready to throw hands.

Everything happened so fast, your heart started beating faster and you barely registered it was him before he spoke. The guy in front lifted his hand in the air, showing he wasn't doing any harm but the tension in Togame's muscles didn't loosen.

"Stop, stop," your hands land flat on his chest, getting all his attention in a second. "He was helping me," you explain quickly, barely articulating.

He frowned at you, then harder to the guy before letting you go from his crushing embrace.

"What do you mean ?"

"I got hit on by some annoying guy, and he helped me out, scaring him away," you added further, looking back at the guy with a sorry smile. "Sorry, he's a little like that."

"That's fine, really. I'm just glad you're not alone anymore," he said, returning a gentle smile.

Everything in his body language screamed that he was done and wouldn't wait around anymore, proving Togame he didn't do anything wrong, but something new started eating inside his stomach.

Another man had to help you, protect you, and he hated it to his core.

As you thank him once more, he couldn't help it but stare at him before imitating you and shaking his hand. He smiled at him despite the venomous thoughts going through his head and the guy left like nothing bad happened. His jaw clenched for a second, keeping his eyes on his back before turning your way. He took you in his arms again, crushing you inside it once again.

"You're alright ?" He asked in a sigh, burying his nose in your hair.

He hated himself for taking so much time to ask, for being jealous of someone helping you when the top priority was always for you to be alright.

"Yeah, thanks to him, nothing happened," you assured with a soft smile, smoothing his back. "You're still so tense, what is it ?"

He chuckled, shaking his head slowly before kissing your forehead.

"Nothing. You're alright, that's all that matters."

“Look, buddy, we’re back at the beach house,” Sokka tells him with a careful nudge, prompting Zuko to lift his head in confusion. Though clearly inebriated, he manages to make out your figure in the doorway and immediately lights up excitement.

“You found y/n!” He cheers, nearly toppling over as he tries to reach for you. Thankfully, Sokka and Toph manage to catch him before he falls flat on his face.

“Hi, Zuko,” you coo with a sympathetic smile that immediately fades as you turn your reproachful stare towards Sokka. “What did you do?”

“Nothing illegal,” Toph answers in their defense only to receive a glare from her accomplice.

“He had a bit too much to drink at the tavern, and he kept insisting on coming to see you.”

You don’t give an immediate reply, instead choosing to mull over his words as you look from him to Zuko. You realize then that you’ve never actually seen him drunk before. As Fire Lord he took great pride in keeping his composure and maintaining his image as a responsible leader, but being on vacation with your closest friends must have coaxed him into letting his guard down.

“Give him to me,” you finally respond with a resigned sigh, accepting the fact that your night of relaxation will have to be saved for another time. Sokka and Toph are careful as they maneuver Zuko into your hold, helping him drape his arm around your shoulders as you hold onto him by the waist.

“So uh, do you need any help? Because we were thinking of joining the rest of the group for that night swim—”

“Go,” you tell him with an amused roll of your eyes, “I’ve got it from here.”

You watch with a quiet laugh as he quickly bounds off towards the beach with Toph in tow, leaving you on your own to take care of Zuko. You manage to balance your combined weights on one foot as you use the other to shut the door. His head lulls to the side at your movements, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he struggles to keep his eyes open, and you try not to let this distract you from the task at hand.

“Alright, Zuko, I’m going to need your help getting you to your room,” you inform him softly, giving his waist a gentle squeeze to ensure he remains awake. “Can you do that for me?”

He hiccups, letting out a laugh before he responds, “I’d do anything for you, y/n— anything at all! You deserve nice things, and I-I can do those nice things. I’m really nice now.”

You try not to encourage his behavior, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his change in demeanor. It’s certainly a stark contrast to his normally broody personality, and you enjoy getting to see the more playful side of him shine through. Compared to your days as teenagers he’s definitely learned to lighten up, but he still tends to convey his humorous nature more sparsely in comparison to the rest of the group. You like to think he’s most comfortable sharing that side of himself with you, but you try not to dwell on the fact in order to avoid setting yourself up for disappointment.

You don’t remember when exactly you first realized you had a crush on Zuko or how your feelings had transitioned from platonic to romantic, but for years you’ve harbored your affection for him under the guise of friendship. There hadn’t been time for romance during the war, and when he became Fire Lord he resumed his relationship with Mai, thus effectively destroying any chance of you ending up together. Even though they’d been broken up for years now, you’d long since accepted that it was never going to happen, and you wouldn’t jeopardize your friendship over a silly childhood infatuation that was clearly unrequited, so you told absolutely no one and swore yourself to secrecy.

You manage to get Zuko into bed, though not without difficulty, and assist him in removing his shoes so he can lay comfortably on the mattress. Though he’s now in the perfect condition to sleep off the alcohol, he simply sits propped against the pillows with his hands resting upon his stomach as he watches you move about the room. You open his window to allow fresh air to waft through and bring a bucket to his bedside in case he grows nauseous. You do everything in your power to make him content in his drunken state, and this doesn’t go without notice.

“I’m going to get you some water,” you inform him quietly only for his hand to immediately shoot out and grab onto your wrist, effectively keeping you in place.

“Don’t go,” he nearly begs, the emotion in his voice catching you off guard. “I want— I need you here.”

“It’ll only take a second—“

“Later,” he insists with a dramatic shake of his head. “That’s not impor-important… Need you. I only need you.”

His words hit your stomach like a gut punch, your heart lurching in your chest and your face heating from the drunken tenderness of his request. He has no idea how much of an effect he has on you, and even in his inebriated state you catch yourself yearning for him to return your affection. Things could be so much easier for you if you simply told him how you felt, but your fear held you back. You firmly remind yourself that you’re just friends, and he’s only seeking the comfort of a companion to help him deal with the intoxication.

“Okay,” you finally relent through a trembling breath, thankful he’s in no state to pick up on your nervous tells as you seat yourself beside him on the mattress. His head immediately falls to rest upon your shoulder, and you allow yourself the privilege of wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you’ve done so many times before.

“Thank you,” he sighs in relief, allowing his eyes to shut in hopes of stopping the spinning sensation he’s felt since returning to the beach house.

You sit in a comfortable silence for some time, neither of you daring to speak as you enjoy the quiet period of rest. Your fingers find their way towards the back of his head, and you absently begin to rake through his long strands of hair in the way you know he likes. These stolen moments are what allow you to ease the longing ache in your chest every time you’re around him, and you’re grateful he’s never seemed to mind your displays of affection. You let him believe they’re platonic for his sake and for your own sanity. It’s better this way, you think.

“You smell good,” Zuko blurts suddenly, effectively rupturing the silence. “Did you know you smell good?”

An amused huff escapes your nose as you glance over at him. “I didn’t know that, but thank you.”

“You’re just so good… you’re a good person, and I want you to know that you’re a good person. The best person!”

“I think that’s the alcohol talking,” you jest playfully, causing him to shake his head vehemently in protest.

“It’s the truth talking,” he argues passionately despite slurring his words in the process. “You’re so nice and funny and pretty. You’re like… you’re the prettiest girl.”

“Zuko,” you gently try to interrupt. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel the blood rushing towards your ears as you try to stop his drunken rambling. You know he means well and can hardly comprehend what he’s saying right now, but you don’t think you can handle him spewing compliments at you when he doesn’t understand just how deeply it affects you.

“I wish you knew how much I like you,” he sighs, causing you to stiffen in place beside him. You don’t dare look at him or speak, simply holding your breath as you wait for him to continue. “You’re so good for me… I think about you even when you’re not around. I miss you all the time… do you know what that’s like?”

“Yeah,” you admit in quiet defeat, clearing your throat to ease the knot that had formed and pensively looking out towards the window. “Yeah, I do.”

You feel him relax against you, his steady breathing filling the air as he finally passes out from exhaustion. You let out a sigh as you carefully maneuver yourself out of bed and allow him to fall back against the mattress. You make sure to position him on his side and leave the bucket nearby before you set off to fetch him a pitcher of water.

You have no idea what to make of his drunken confession. He’d called you pretty, insisted that he needed you, even confessed to having feelings for you, but did it really mean anything? You don’t want to trust the words of an inebriated man, but you can’t deny the nervous fluttering in your stomach as you replay the moment over again in your mind. You so desperately want him to return your affection, but you know by morning he’ll have no recollection of your conversation and everything will return to normal. You can do nothing but settle into your own room and hope you can avoid ever having to talk about this night.

You manage to get some sleep in spite of your inability to quell your racing thoughts, and when morning arrives you make no mention of the conversation that had occurred when your friends ask about last night. They inform you they’re going to the local marketplace in search of groceries for breakfast, and you volunteer to stay behind to keep an eye on Zuko. You two have always been close, so no one suspects anything of your offer as they bid you goodbye and assure you of a quick return.

You enjoy the silence of the morning as you sip your tea and watch the waves crash on the shore from the window. A soft thud breaks you from your contemplative state, and you glance towards Zuko’s bedroom where a groan drifts through the sliding doors.

“Y/n…?” He calls hoarsely, and you wince at the sound of dry heaving that follows. Setting your cup aside, you quickly make your way into his room and find him hunched over the bucket you left behind. Rushing to his side, you help him pull the hair from his face and fashion it into a loose bun with your own hair tie.

“I’m here,” you assure him with a careful smile as you rub soothing circles into his back. You try not to pay too close attention to the feel of his muscles beneath your palm or the fact that he’d managed to remove his shirt in the night.

“I feel horrible,” he complains with a groan as he leans back against the bed frame. “Never let me go drinking with Toph ever again.”

“You found that out the hard way, huh?” You tease him with a gentle laugh as you reach for the pitcher of water and pass it into his grasp. “Drink water, you’ll feel better.”

You watch him begin to take greedy gulps from the pitcher, droplets of water dribbling past his chin and down the expanse of his chest. You look away flustered and silently curse the spirits for putting you in such a precarious situation. Every time you think you have your feelings under control Zuko unknowingly finds a way to push you over the edge.

“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble last night,” he apologizes after drinking the last of the water. “I made such a fool of myself.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much. I mean, you definitely were nowhere near as bad as Sokka on cactus juice,” you humor him with a giggle, earning a wry smile from the Fire Lord in return.

“That makes me feel a little better,” he admits softly, carefully wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before allowing his head to fall against the edge of the mattress. “Spirits…”

“What is it?”

You tilt your head curiously when his features turn solemn. His eyes shut close as he releases a slow breath, and after a beat passes he allows them to open so he may turn to face you. His golden irises shine with an emotion you’ve never seen him convey before, and it has your breath catching in your throat as you struggle to maintain eye contact.

“I know what I said last night,” he professes timidly, causing your heart to nearly leap out of your chest with anguish. Your face starts to burn and you want nothing more than to find a way out of this conversation, but with the rest of the group gone you know there’s no chance at escape.

“Oh… right. That,” you breathe shakily. Your gaze trails to the floor as you prepare yourself for the inevitable rejection. If you can survive a lightning strike from Azula, then you can survive Zuko taking back everything he’d side while drunk. At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself. “Listen, it’s not a big deal-“

“It is to me,” he interrupts you with a faint frown. You startle when his fingertips touch the skin of your cheek and gently guide your face back towards him. You hope he can’t feel how warm to the touch you are or hear the rapid beating of your heart. “I’d never want to put our friendship in jeopardy or make you uncomfortable.”

“Zuko, it’s fine-“ you try to interrupt only for him to grow frustrated.

“No, y/n, you need to hear what I have to say,” he demands firmly, and finally you fall quiet. He sighs, not meaning to snap at you but desperate to get the words out. “I… I meant what I said.”

“What?”

A faint blush dusts his face as he nervously grasps the back of his neck and offers you a meek smile. “I know I wasn’t exactly myself last night, and though I wish I could have conveyed my thoughts when I was in a better state of mind, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t telling the truth.”

“So you…. You do like me?” you murmur softly, your stomach fluttering with nerves as you try to process his confession. You can’t believe what you’re hearing, and a part of you thinks you must be dreaming, but the feel of his hand reaching for your own proves otherwise.

“I have for a while now,” he assures you sheepishly, “I guess I just needed some liquid courage to tell you. This doesn’t have to change anything between us if you don’t want it to, and I understand if you don’t feel the same-“

“I like you too,” you interrupt, wincing with embarrassment at your abruptness. He lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s the reassurance you need to continue. “I never wanted to tell you in case you didn’t feel the same, but then you called me pretty and I kind of lost any sense of rational thinking…”

“You are pretty,” he affirms with a tender smile, taking your hand in his own and lifting your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight so I may ask to court you the right way.”

“I’d love nothing more,” you nearly swoon, enjoying the feel of his lips against your skin and the satisfaction that comes from knowing the boy you’ve loved since childhood returns your affections.

You’ll have to thank Toph for this later.

~~~