Fluff, Apologising And Making Up After A 'fight' Kind Of Drabble Bc I Miss Suna

Hey hey! If you're taking requests could i request headcanons for sakura, kiryu, suo and sugishita(if its too much you can chose just two of these characters) reacting to their s/o confessing they used to be apart of a gang and that they can fight really well.

Thank you!

It's not headcannons but short stories but I hope it's still fine. It was so fun to write. Just imagining how badass the reader could be and the dynamics between the reader and their previous gang members.

Haruka Sakura, Mitsuki Kiryu, Hayato Suou, Kyotaro Sugishita x prev Gang Leader! reader

Haruka Sakura

You were supposed to meet up with Haurka a few minutes ago but well there were some more pressing matters you had to take care of. The moment you came near your meeting spot you heard an argument, a pretty loud argument and then the glass shattering.

Immediately you ran toward the sound turning the corner into some alley and your eyes were met with two groups fighting with each other. Your eyes widened slightly when you recognized the jackets of one of the groups as your previous gang. One of the guys saw you and cried your name in excitement before being punched in the face and you flinched at that almost feeling it. The sound of your name brought more attention to you and you didn't think twice before jumping in the fight to help your friends from the gang out.

At the same time, Haruka came to the meeting place late and he was surprised to see you were not yet there. He looked at his phone but there was no message from you either. He was about to call you when some young boy came running to him. "Hey, you're from Bofurin, right?" "Yeah, what? You got a problem?" He asked ready to defend himself but the frightened look on the boy's face got him alerted. "There's a fight going on. I think they are from some gangs but they might move to the streets soon." The young boy spoke quickly grabbing Haruka's sleeve and dragging him in the direction of the brawl.

Your partner ran, quickly taking over the shorter boy, and turned into the alley where he heard grunts coming from. He expected a lot of things but you punching some guy, twice as big as you, was not one of them. Haruka stood frozen watching you expertly beat up the guy before throwing him over your shoulder and kicking for good measurement.

When the last guy was on the ground the few guys dressed in similar jackets yelled happily crowding you and patting your shoulders singing praises. "Y/n, what the hell was that?!" Your boyfriend yelled running up to you and you pushed some of the guys away to have a clear view of him. "Oh, Haruka don't worry we already took care of everything." You said trying to calm him down but he was more concerned about you fighting and possibly getting hurt. "Are you alright? Any bruises?" He asked stepping closer to you and looking over you checking if you're alright.

When he saw you weren't injured he processed what you said before his eyes glared around you and on the several guys surrounding the two of you. "Who are these guys?" "Oh right. Guys, this is Haruka Sakura, my boyfriend." At these words, several oh's and ah's echoed around you, before you rolled your eyes at them and moved further with the introductions. "Haruka these are my friends from my previous gang." You said nonchalantly smiling at him at the thought of your past with them. "Gang? Wait yours? Like you were a part of gang or-" He was cut off by one of the gang members.

"(Y/n) was our leader before they left." The others nodded confirming the statement and Haruka's shocked expression made you scratch your cheek while laughing awkwardly. "You were a gang leader." Your boyfriend thought saying the words out loud would help him accept it was true, as well as seek confirmation from you. "Oh right, I forgot to tell you, surprise." Your smile was forced and you hoped he wouldn't be mad at you for omitting confessing something like that before you started dating.

When Haruka didn't say anything but just stared at you, your hand reached toward him and pinched his arm. In return, he slapped yours lightly frowning at you. "Ouch sorry don't hit me. I really forget to tell you." You told him once more and he sighed deeply before turning away from you and mumbling. "When we get back you'll tell me all about it." You smiled softly happy he wasn't that mad and nodded. "Sure I will."

Mitsuki Kiryu

It was getting rather dark outside when you decided to finish your small date with Mitsuki and go home. You left the small establishment with his voice filling you in on the new game that was releasing in a few days.

Suddenly something, or rather someone, bumped into you trying to run past and push through the crowd, a few people behind him. Your quick reflexes would be useful if they worked fully as you didn't fall down but your bag got ripped from your hands and met the ground. Your gasp was accompanied by one of the guys pushing you away and almost stomping on it.

"Move it!" The voice sounded very familiar to you and when you looked at him you noticed one of your friends from the past. Mitsuki tried to grab and stabilize not to let you fall but you moved away from him and grabbed two of the guys stopping them. "What the-" "Ey!" Their yells alerted the three others as they came to a stop and ran back to them. They were ready to throw hands but when they saw your unimpressed face glaring at them they gasped and stepped closer to you. "Oh (Y/n), long time no see." One of them happily greeted and the others nodded set on hugging you.

But what they received was different. You sighed before smacking each of them on their head as they yelped. Mitsuki stepped closer to you curious about your strange behaviour but also prepared to protect you if they decided to punch you. "Why are you running like that idiots, can't you be more careful with people around?" You said your voice firm ready to lecture them while you crouched to grab your bag before dusting it off. "Sorry boss, we got a call from Tachizo to get there for the meeting." The tallest boy said and another added. "We had to be quick."

For people around you, it seemed like they were explaining themselves to their parent who was scolding them and they wouldn't be far from the truth, as during your gang times you felt like a single parent of unruly kids. You pinched your nose looking at them and some of them gulped ready for another lecture but you just sighed again. "I see then be more careful from now on." You said and they nodded. "And greet him from me." You added as they got ready to run along to their meeting. "Got it, boss." They called before disappearing trying to move more carefully through the crowds.

"(Y/n), are you a yakuza by any chance?" Mitsuki asked reminding you of his presence. "Yakuza? No, I was a leader of a small gang and these were some guys from the team before I left and Tachizo took after me." You explained turning to him. "You were a gang leader?" He asked taking your hand in his and moving in the direction of your home.

You were worried he might take it the wrong way but seeing that he didn't really mind it brought you immense joy. "Yes, just before we started dating, but it was taking too much time from me and I wanted to spend more of it with you." You explained and Mitsuki tightened his hold on your hand smiling at you. "So you want to tell me my partner used to be a gang leader?" He muttered to himself and you quickly confirmed. "Yes." "That's so cool, did you have some cool jacket or some band." He asked and you the whole walk home by talking about your past with the gang.

Hayato Suou

Suou stood in front of you trying to protect you from some thugs that as soon as they saw that he wore Bofurin uniform went wild. Your boyfriend took a protective stance keeping you away from them and gracefully beating them up.

Suddenly one of the guys came from the side while his friend was still struggling with your partner. He thought you would be an easy target seeing as the only thing you did was stand behind and observe what was happening. Little did he know, you did so only because Suou was very worried about you and you didn't want to disturb him from his fight, causing him more stress if you were to fight beside him.

He rushed for you swinging his fist in your direction. You stepped back grabbing his forearm and pulling him to you. Your right hand quickly turned into a fist as you took a swing and punched him in the stomach. He bent over and you used this opportunity to kick his leg making him stumble. Your foot curled back as you pushed his shoulders and he hit the ground.

As you sight and corrected your tousled hair, you heard a groan behind you and turned to see Hayato finish the other guy. He looked at you with a glint in his eyes as he observed you the whole time from the corner of his vision. He was ready to help you but you surprised him positively and he walked closer to you with a grin forming on his face. "Where did you learn how to fight like that?" He questioned as he moved his head left and right to check if you were hurt. Hayato still worried even though he saw you expertly take the guy down. "Were you secretly some part of a gang?" He asked jokingly not knowing your past as you didn't tell him previously.

You didn't really want to tell him yet, as you were still unsure about how he would react, but it was now or never, it seemed. "Actually yes." You sighed your hand moving to the back of your neck as you started feeling nervous. "The small gang in the suburbs have you heard about it." You added deciding to confess about your past. "That's funny, (Y/n)." He replied petting your head and you groaned at him trying to swat his hand away.

You expected a lot of things from him, but denial wasn't one of them. "It's true, we were a neighbouring gang and some elders still recognize me, as I was the leader." "Mhm.." He hummed and you sighed. You grabbed his hand your fingers tangling into his as you stopped him and turned to face him. "Really, I'm not joking. We used to be together but when we went to different schools we decided to disband." You tried to convince him.

His eyes bored into yours, his head tilted slightly and he nodded once. "Fine, I'll believe you." He replied kissing your forehead before starting to walk your hand still in his as he pulled you after him. "You better-" You muttered as he cut you off showing you his grin. "But you need to show me some more of your moves"

Kyotaro Sugishita

Kyotaro followed after you to your room and you left him to look around while you went for some drinks. When you came back he stood in front of your wall where several pictures were pinned.

You placed the drinks on your desk and he took notice of you turning to you before looking back to the image that interested him the most. "Is that you?" He asked pointing at one of the photos you had hung on the wall. You came to stand beside him and looked closely at the picture he pointed. "Oh that's a picture from almost two years ago, I was a part of the gang in my town before moving here." You remembered smiling when you saw your younger self with the rest of your gang all of you wearing your iconic one-coloured bandanas around your arms, yours being the only exception as it had your gang initials sawn on it.

At the memory, your thoughts went to the said clothing and you moved to your wardrobe taking it out and handing it to Kyotaro. "Huh?" He asked taking the bandana in his hands and his gaze moved from it to the photo. "They gave me the band after I left to have like a reminder of being the leader." You explained. "Leader? Like Umemiya?" He asked curiously and you laughed at that. "I was far from being such a good leader like Umemiya but we had fun, and the guys write to me from time to time to ask how's it going." You said fondly looking at the photos and didn't notice Kyotaro's gaze stuck on you as you started thinking back to the time when you were the "boss" of your little group.

You picked one of the photos off the wall and showed it to him pointing at your beaten-up face and the others, who didn't look better. "This one is from when we tried to catch some thieves and jumped through the fence into the garbage can." You recalled the memory behind the photo and chuckled to yourself just thinking about the situation and how troublesome it was for the younger you. "Did it hurt?" Kyotaro said softly looking at you, showing his soft side reserved especially for you. "Yeah, but I got over it, and we did catch them so all ended up good." You responded joyfully your fingers running through the photo.

Suddenly you straightened up and put the photo away before turning to your boyfriend. "Actually I got a scar because of that, here." You said rolling up your sleeve and showing him the scar present on your arm near the wrist. His gaze fell down and he looked worriedly at your hand. The next moment, he took it in his hold and moved closer kissing your forearm just where the scar was. "Oh, you.. Kyo?" You flushed trying to grab the hand away from him but he only leaned closer. "You were brave, I think you were a great leader." His words almost gave you a heart attack and you felt so accomplished and grateful for them.

Taglist: @misticbullet

know, know better

suo hayato; 3,591 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", banter, so much flirting, mentions of bodily harm (its wind breaker lol), first!kisses, semi-whipped!suo, suo will break the world for the one he loves likes, suo is a jackass gentleman exhibit 329048293

summary: the only difference between a garden and a graveyard is what you decide to put in the ground

a/n: yes, i know i've used that metaphor before in another fic for another fandom. no, i do not care. yes, i will continue to reuse this metaphor bc i love it.

001.

He sees you for the first time on the roof, and for a second, he wonders if he’s hallucinating because — well, no one else wears dresses at Fuurin other than Tsubaki-chan and he’s certain he just saw them downstairs, arm slung through Umemiya’s, squealing about a new line of glittery eyeshadows that just launched over the weekend.

“Ah — excuse me!”

“I know, I know — but I couldn’t just let the poor cherry tomatoes suffer like this! Go tell Ume-nii that he’s been neglecting — oh!”

By the time you look up, Suo is already bending over your shoulder to peer politely down into the garden trough, his single eye wide and bright and curious.

“Uwah… you seem really good at this!”

You lick your lips, tasting salt, feeling an unfamiliar heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Uhm… yeah — well —” your clear your throat and turn back towards the cherry tomato plants, reaching out with a gloved hand to flick one of the budding green tomatoes, “these lil guys need a lot of sunlight and Ume-nii let them in a patch of shade, so I couldn’t just leave them there, yknow?”

You smile as you get to your feet, Suo backing up politely, his hands tucked behind his back, his eye following the graceful lilt of your movements, the lithe, slenderness of your arms and legs. He can’t help the way his gaze catches on the hem of your skirt, the way it brushes the creamy skin of your leg just above your knees.

He forces himself to look away.

“You… must be one of the new first-years, right? I heard Kotoha-chan talking about you guys!”

Your voice is clear as a bell-chime, and almost as sweet, but its your eyes he can’t stop himself from coming back to. Irises purled with gold, limned by dark lashes that cast shadows against the round of your cheeks. He feels something inside him stutter as he tries to focus back on the way you’re reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, how the other errant strands frame your face so perfectly that he has to fight down the urge to reach out and tug the slip of hair back down.

“… your name?”

“Hm?” Suo smiles before he realizes you’re waiting for him to say something, “Ah — apologies — how rude of me. Suo Hayato, it’s a pleasure.”

He dips his head in greeting as you extend a hand.

“Pleasure, huh?” you giggle as he takes your hand in his and shakes. Your skin is warm and soft, and Suo finds — for the first time in a long while — that he doesn’t really want to let go.

002.

He sees you the second time at Cafe Pothos, laughing behind the counter with Kotoha. He pauses in the doorway and lets the sound wash over him, even as you both look over at the sound of the doorbell.

“Oh! It’s you!” your smile sets his world spinning off on it’s axis and it’s all he can do to keep it from showing. Beside him, Sakura frowns.

“You know each other?”

Suo grins, stepping over the threshold to slip into one of the bar chairs.

“Yep! We met on the school roof the other day!”

“School roof — wait, I thought there weren’t any girls in Fuurin — unless —” Sakura cuts off as he whips back towards you, his eyes wide as he looks you over once, twice — before Kotoha rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers in front of his face.

“Oi! Quit ogling my friend — and no, there aren’t any girls in Fuurin, but we do have a delivery service for the VIP clients.” Kotoha winks as Sakura’s cheeks go pink. Suo props his chin on the heel of his hand and offers you a bright smile; your mirrored smile back makes his chest squeeze.

“So… how’re the cherry tomatoes doing?” you ask, reaching out to set a traditional tea service in front of Suo, your fingers light as they pluck a tiny porcelain cup from a shelf to place it on a small, bamboo tray.

“They’re getting really ripe! I’ve been checking on them like you asked…” Suo’s voice trails off as you go about the work of putting loose leaf tea in a tea bowl and warming it before pouring out the first wash of liquid.

“How… did you know I’d like this kind of tea?”

You grin, shrugging, “I just… had a feeling.”

“It’s her superpower,” Kotoha leans over with a sly smile, “she can usually guess a person’s favorite kind of food and drink within… about five minutes of getting to know them!”

“Oh stop it — it’s nothing like that! I just… had a hunch is all.” You glance up to catch Suo staring, his gaze so intense you almost fumble the teapot in your hands. It clinks against the empty cup, but before the cup has a chance to tumble off the table, Suo reaches out with a deft hand to catch it, placing it smoothly back onto the tea tray.

There’s a faint stutter in the fluidity of your movements as you blink at the cup now sitting innocently, perfectly centered, on the tray. And then you’re reaching out to fill the cup with a steaming, golden liquid, fragrant enough to fill half the room. Even Sakura leans over with a curious sniff.

“Whoa. Smells good,” he says, “smells like…”

Suo smiles, reaching down to trace a finger along the razor-thin rim of the tiny glass, “Smells like flowers.”

003.

You are young in all the ways that teenage girls can be young, and old in the all the ways that people have to be in Makochi. Your ribs hurt, your lip’s split, and there’s an ache settling over your right eye that tells you there’s probably an incredible bruise blooming into existence there.

“Ouch… damnit… I’ve really… done it this time…” you groan as you try to push yourself up off the dark alley wall. You wiggle each of your fingers in turn and say a silent prayer when you find that they all respond. Good, you think, so nothing’s broken. **

Not yet, at least.

Footsteps to your right. Light, but hurried. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for the worst but instead — there’s only warmth, and a soft palm cupping the curve of your face.

“Hey… it’s okay — you’re alright.”

“S-Suo…kun?”

“That’s right — it’s me —” a soft, exasperated sigh, “we were looking for you afternoon —” arms wrapping around you, lifting you up. You hear the soft rustle of bags and groan as you try to reach out but a firm hand stops you.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

He doesn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounds just as measured as he usually is. But pressed up against his chest like this, you can feel the wild, racehorse hoofbeats of his heart, feel the shakiness in his every breath. His fingers are tight as he cradles you to him, carrying you from the alleyway.

“I wanted… yokan…” your voice is hoarse, and a bit ragged. Suo casts his eyes up toward the sunset sky and counts down from ten.

When he’s certain his voice won’t shake, he says —

“Eh? But the Minami tea store always sells really good yokan — why’d you… ah… you wanted to get the famous mizu yokan from across the tracks, didn’t you?” Suo sighs, gently adjusting his hold around your body, pressing you ever closer to his chest. Your breathing is shallow but even; like this, he can almost hear the faint fluttering of your heart deep inside your chest, see the soft quiver of your lashes as you shift in his arms.

“Silly girl,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips into the seam of your hair, “next time, just tell me and I’ll go with you.”

He can sense your consciousness fading, and though the logical part of him knows that you’re in no immediate danger, he still hastens his steps, his stomach twisting inside him like a wrung-out towel, dry and aching.

“But…” he leans in; your voice is barely a whisper. He almost jumps as you reach up to trace a finger along his eyepatch, “Then it wouldn’t have been… a surprise.”

004.

“Happy Birthday!”

“Wow! Thank you!” Suo blinks for a second before his expression breaks into a bright smile. He’d had an inkling, after the “yokan-incident”, that this might’ve been the reason. But still, it twists something deep inside his gut to know that you’d gotten so hurt because of — well — something to do with him.

Even unsolicited. Even then. He detests the thought of it.

Nearly the entire first year class is there, and a good few students from the second and third years, crammed into Cafe Pothos. There’s a full traditional tea service set out on the tables, pieced together into the center of the room, and an array of tea snacks enough to make even the most ascetic eaters take pause.

“Suo-kun! C’mon, you shouldn’t keep everyone waiting, right?” Kotoha waves him towards the center table, where a multicolored display of mochis are placed in a barely legible “Happy Birthday”, each with a matching colored candle shoved into the middle.

“Sakura-kun did the mochis!” Nirei offers, pointing, seconds before Sakura smacks him upside the head.

“You don’t have’ta single it out!”

Suo takes his time, moving from person to person, chatting and laughing and thanking them in turn. There’s a softness pulsing inside him, something warm and growing, purring, curling up with a creamy, spine-deep contentment. Until he gets to you, busy wowing a group of first-year boys with your kung-fu tea skills, pouring the steaming water from higher and higher, never spilling a single drop.

“— the water can’t be too hot, or else the tea will get burnt — and that’s why sometimes —”

“Sometimes, when you make tea at home, it tastes awful and bitter, right?” Suo sits down, smiling even as he purposefully encroaches on the personal space of the freshman closest to you. To his credit, the freshman boy laughs, inching back as Suo props his chin on his palm and turns to look at them.

“A-ah… that’s really uh — cool! Wow — those shortcakes over there look really good — guys, let’s go grab some before they’re all gone!”

They scurry off, dipping their heads in your direction before ducking away.

“Mm… you’re lucky its your birthday,” you say, placing a warmed cup of tea in front of him, reaching over to slide over a glistening piece of mizu-yokan.

“Hm?” Suo takes a sip of the tea, savoring it’s depth of flavor, before taking a bite of the tea-snack.

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice to someone who’s driving off all my best customers,” you say, flashing him a knowing, indulgent smile. Suo doesn’t miss a beat.

“Your best customers?” he makes a show of pivoting towards where the clueless freshmen boys had run off to, now crowded around Sakura, laughing all too loudly, “if I didn’t know better… I’d say you need to raise your standards.”

You cock your head, hands pausing over a fresh pour of tea.

“But you do, don’t you?” you ask, resuming your movements. A second later, you place a fresh cup of tea in front of him.

“Don’t I… what?” he asks, playing at innocence.

“You should,” you parry, propping open the lid of the tiny teapot with two fingers, bending down to take a deep breath of the fragrant leaves.

The lid snaps back onto the pot with a solid click.

Suo blows at the surface of his teacup, pausing at the sound. He looks up to meet your knife-sharp gaze.

“Know — better.”

A shiver kisses up the length of his spine, and he nearly drops the fresh cup of tea. He clears his throat and takes a long sip. The heat drips down his throat, unfurling in his stomach, setting his whole body ablaze with the kind of fire that refuses to go out.

“Mm… this tea is delicious! Where’s it from?”

You shake your head, the motion just on the other side of innocent. But as you said — he knows better now.

“Somewhere… over the rainbow, I suppose.”

In a flicker, faster than a flash, he reaches out, fingers skimming along a thin line marring the perfect skin of your left cheek.

“This wasn’t there two days ago,” he says, almost casually, before his voice drops in register and his eyes go dark beneath his curtain of too-long lashes, “where’s it from?”

You make you shake off his hand but he’s too quick, catching your chin between two fingers.

“Don’t know. Must’ve been an accident.”

Suo tugs you towards him, his grip now bordering on too tight, “Ah… pretty girls like you shouldn’t make a habit of lying so much.”

You lick your lips, breath caught in your chest as you tug your face from his grasp, flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder.

“And pretty boys like you should really know better than to ask questions they don’t want to know the answers to.”

“And if I don’t?” Suo’s voice is sweet and soft and low. He sets down his empty teacup; you reach out to refill it.

“Don’t what?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

He catches your wrist, pulling up your sleeve before you can protest to reveal a series of dark bruises scattered up the length of your arm. The air around him seems to condense and cool as he stares for a second before his expression fixes itself back into one of detached sweetness.

“Know — better,” he answers, simply, letting his hand fall as you snatch your arm back, massaging the place where his fingers had been.

You narrow your eyes, but before you can say anything else, a group of boys all stumble over, singing loudly as they pull Suo back towards the center of the room, where yet another cake has materialized out of god knows where. He laughs, clapping along, blowing out the candles on instruction.

But for the rest of the night, you can’t help feeling the weight of his eyes on you, though you never again catch him staring.

005.

“They’re doing well, aren’t they?”

You jump, jerking upright even as Suo approaches you on the rooftop garden, hands laced behind his back, his earrings fluttering in the light breeze.

“Y-yeah. They really are.” You turn back to your cherry tomato plants, a few of them ripe to bursting. You reach out to pluck one off a vine, turning to offer it to the boy crouching down next to you.

He takes it from you, examining it for a second before popping into his mouth.

“Mm… sweet!”

You laugh, reaching out to tug another one off the vine. You bite into the soft flesh, feeling the explosion of flavor on your tongue.

“So much better than the ones from the supermarket, right?”

Suo sighs, nodding, but his expression sobers a second later.

“You shouldn’t have done that — just for my birthday.”

You pause, hands halfway towards another tomato. Suo reaches out to pluck it for you. As he presses it into your hand, you sigh, shaking your head.

“I didn’t do it just for you.”

“Oh?”

You roll the bright red fruit between your thumb and forefingers, holding it up to the light.

“Do you know what the difference is between a garden and a graveyard?” you ask, dropping your hand back down, your eyes trained on the plump little tomato now sitting in the palm of your hand.

“Tell me,” Suo says, watching you intently.

You turn to glance at him, a sad little smile on your lips.

“What you choose to put in the ground,” you say, before reaching out to press the cherry tomato to his lips. Suo blinks at you for a second before slowly opening his mouth to let the tomato slip through. He bites down, doesn’t reach up to wipe at the thin streak of juice slicking down his chin. He watches as your eyes flicker down, feels the pad of your thumb swipe across his skin.

He’s tugging you forward before he can stop himself; you taste the bright burst of sweet and sour on your tongue seconds before he pulls back, eyes wide. You lick your lips, expression half-shocked, half-satisfied. He opens his mouth to apologize —

“S-sorry, I should’ve asked — mmphf!”

You reach up and pull him towards you by the collar of his school uniform. It’s all he can do to catch himself against the rough ground of the rooftop garden, bits of gravel biting into his palm.

The kiss is sweet, is savory, is tentative — and then, suddenly, it bursts into something more — like a bite of over-ripe fruit, with juice sluicing down it’s seams — he surges forward, catching you around the waist. He savors in the friction of your lips against his, the teeth-aching sweetness of your warm breath as you gasp open for him, and only him. And by the gods, he tries to be a good man — a respectful man, but the tiny noise you make as he curls his fingers into the bend of your waist threatens to render all his flighty codes and morals to ash.

It is a noble pursuit, he decides later on, this of all things — to kiss you until there is no other way for you to be kissed. To kiss you just like this, until your mouth is ruined for all other tastes but the one of his tongue. He’s never thought himself a greedy man, but like this — with your body pressed to his on this rooftop garden, he thinks he might’ve learned a few more things about the depths and widths of why greed is considered such a cardinal sin.

When he finally lets you go, he’s satisfied to see there’s a dazed, unfocused haze to your eyes as you blink up at him, fingers fisted into the front of his school uniform.

“You still haven’t told me —” he leans down to press his forehead to yours, reveling in the way you gasp, the hitch in your voice as you lick your lips and he fights back a thick groan.

“Told you what?”

“Why you’d go out of the city bounds to get all those things for my birthday.”

You sigh, pursing your kiss-swollen lips.

“Because… those stores, like the earth, they… they might just need one good seed — one nice interaction —” your lashes flutter and Suo has to physically bat down the urge to lean down and kiss you again. Perhaps, he thinks, this is how dragons are made of fairy tale princes — perhaps, all the dragons ever needed was just one more kiss from their fairy tale princess.

“So… you thought to take it upon yourself to be that one nice interaction? To turn all those graveyards… into gardens?”

You crinkle your nose, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as he pulls back to stare down at you.

“It’s a stupid thing to do, I know.”

Suo nods, “It is. But… only because you thought you could do it by yourself.”

He shifts, tugging you up into his lap as he readjusts himself to lean back against one of the taller planter boxes, his arms now comfortably looped around your middle.

“Well, if I’d told anyone… they would’ve tried to stop me.”

Suo tuts, reaching up to flick your nose with a gentle finger, “Oh ye of little faith,” he admonishes, grinning as you swat at his hand. He catches you by the wrist, pulling it in to press his lips to your palm, sighing as he nuzzles into your warmth.

“Do you really think we would’ve written off your feelings that easily? That I wouldn’t have at least tried to listen?”

You make to look away, embarrassed at your own oversight, but he tugs your chin back, forcing you to face him properly again.

“C’mon now… smart girl like you… should know better than that, shouldn’t you?”

You narrow your eyes, a feline glint alighting behind your eyes as you reach up to lace your fingers through his, leaning in with a challenge clear in your voice.

“And… if I don’t?”

Suo meets your gaze, a wide smile splitting his face as he tugs you closer, shifting your legs to settle on either side of his hips, his fingers now digging into the plush of your thighs, inching up to tease at the hemline of your skirt.

“Then I suppose… someone’ll just have to teach you better, won’t they?”

Words cannot express how fucked up I am for Haitani Ran and this work ಥ‿ಥ

friends | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: he shouldn’t have been so damn cocky when he told you not to go catching feelings for him.

genre: fwb to lovers, best friends to lovers

warnings: fem!reader, fwb tropes, semi-public sex, angry/jealous sex, degradation, car sex, UNEDITED

word count: 3.9k

notes: for @kshira​‘s FWB collab! :D 

Keep reading

🍊clementines.

synopsis. kiryu’s hiding something and suo knows what.

contains. fluff. all characters are 19. for some reason they’re all line cooks?? don’t ask.

note. this blog is 18+. mdni. my crush on him is getting real bad if im out here writing fluff for this idiot. UGH!

the tips of kiryu’s fingers smell of clementines in the morning.

it’s odd. unusual. suo points out that lately his blunt cut manicured fingernails are tinged in yellowed hues and all kiryu does in response is smile. sakura’s brows furrow. nirei’s mind wanders. however, the thought is fleeting, so as quickly as it comes, it leaves to make temporary space for another.

suo never forgets.

he notices more as the days trough on. some mornings kiryu comes to work with a sheen over his rosy mouth, haphazardly smudged away but still sparkling, dots of glitter pressed over the delicate folds of skin. other days it’s his hair that’s tousled, rumpled from more than just the wind, kiryu’s eyes blindingly bright though he retains his smooth demeanor.

it’s not until suo peeks bruise from beneath kiryu’s collar that the peculiarities are brought up again.

“have you been paying attention to me this entire time, suo?” kiryu’s tone is colored amused. suo, be he a weaker man would’ve blushed, but instead he keeps a charmed smile on his face, pretty brown eyes glimmering in intrigue.

“i’m an observant man.” he decides to say. “and you’re avoiding the question. is that a hickey, kiryu?”

kiryu smiles, licking at his canines. the quartet are sat behind the building of the restaurant on break. kiryu leans back, rosy knuckles dragging over his white apron. adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, pink hair slightly damp as it sticks to the sweat on his face.

“it could be.” he decides to say. the offending bruise in question stretches, peering over the top of his white t-shirt. “what if it is?”

“then my next question would be who gave you that hickey.” suo throws one leg over the other idly. “seems as if you’re keeping something from us.”

“or someone from us.” nirei’s eyes dart about as if he’s searching his mind. “come to think of it, there’s been a lot off about you lately. you smile more, you always leave our hangouts early and you’re always talking to someone in the background when we’re playing games together.”

“uh huh,” kiryu’s smile grows crooked. “have i now?”

sakura’s brows furrow. “you have.” he huffs. “and not to mention that ridiculous perfume you’ve started wearing. it’s so sweet, like pears or peaches or something.”

“you mean my girlfriend’s perfume?”

the three men freeze in their seats. the color drains from sakura’s face immediately, duotoned eyes wide as they stare back at kiryu.

“your…” he blinks.

“girlfriend?” nirei finishes.

kiryu’s smile turns dopey. “yup. my girlfriend.”

sakura colors red in an instant. nirei’s blinking rapidly, stuttering over words he doesn’t know to say.

“what- when- how did you- when did this- wait-“

“you had a girlfriend this entire time and didn’t tell anybody?!”

sakura’s outburst nearly makes kiryu laugh. instead, his eyes just light up the more.

“my bad. i thought you knew.”

suo chuckles, drawing the attention from kiryu to himself. the brunette shakes his head, pinkette tilting his head curiously.

“sakura, he wasn’t exactly trying to hide it either.”

sakura frowns deeply. “so you knew the entire time too?!”

“i had a feeling.” suo hums as he stands. “it was pretty obvious.”

“obvious?” nirei asks.

“i’m curious.” kiryu looks at suo, brows a little furrowed in wonder. “how so?”

suo smiles. “you don’t like clementines, kiryu-chan. yet you always smell like them.”

₊✩‧₊ ⎯  Decorating Sakura’s Room 『 ♡ sakura haruka x reader 』

content // after seeing sakura's empty room for the first time, you're determined to make him feel more at home with a few additions.

note // tumblr decided not to post this yesterday for softie sunday lol so here it is!

Sakura's always deterred you from coming back to his place for your date nights, avoiding the topic altogether by offering to meet up at Pothos or to watch movies at your place instead. For the first month or so of dating, you didn't question it much, but now? It's getting suspicious. What did he have to hide from you?

"C'mon, we always go to my apartment. Why do you never have me over?"

Your demand has Sakura sweating, unable to come up with a logical excuse to keep you away any longer. He knows damn well that you can see right through his lies...and he has a terrible poker face around you.

"Fine, but don't expect much," he mutters, stomping passed you and continuing down the street. When you approach his front door, he takes a deep breath before twisting the handle.

"Do you not lock your door?!" You exclaim, noticing he didn't have a set of keys on him. "Saku, that's dangerous as hell!"

"S'not a big deal," he mumbles before kicking his shoes off into the corner, completely ignoring the shoe rack behind the door. "Don't have anythin' to steal, anyways."

You're confused by his words until you get a decent look at the apartment. It's...bare. Not a single decorative item in sight.

"Did you just move into this place?" you ask, confused. You're slowly making your way back to his bedroom, awestruck by the lack of evidence that anyone lives here.

"Nah, been here since I got to Makochi."

You turn to face him, a sad glint in your eyes before shaking your head. It makes him swallow nervously, the tips of his ears warming by the second. You don't say another word about it for the rest of the day.

A couple days pass until the two of you have plans again. You insist to meet at Sakura's place, and after lots of begging, he begrudgingly agrees. When you finally arrive to his place, you can barely knock on the door with how full your hands are with numerous bags of gifts. He opens the door as your mid-swing with your foot to "knock," immediately overwhelmed by the amount of stuff on your person.

"Th' hell is all this?!" Sakura shouts while attempting to grab a few of the bags from your hands. "Yer like a walkin' target with all this! Get in here already!"

"Sorry, Saku. I couldn't help it."

Sakura places the bags on the floor, slowly peaking through them to investigate just what the hell you've unloaded into his space. There are tons of essential items in neutral tones - a few sets of towels, a bath mat, two pillows and silk cases, a 4 set of plates and bowls, silverware, a pair of black house slippers, a brand new reusable water bottle, a water filter for the fridge, and a picture frame.

"I might've went a little overboard," you say sheepishly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I felt bad you didn't have anything to make your home feel like your own. So I got you some things to warm it up, make it feel more permanent and a place you like, not just one you sleep in."

Sakura's speechless - devastated, even. He can't comprehend what he did to deserve your sweetness, biting his lip to keep his emotions caged. His cheeks are ablaze as he picks up the picture frame, noticing the plastic film is missing and there's a familiar set of pictures behind the glass.

"I went ahead and put in the pictures we took at the photo booth from the theater on our first date, you don't need to keep⎯ "

Your silenced by Sakura's lips capturing yours, his shaky hands cradling your face. Your squeak of surprise makes his heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he whispers as you part, moving to wrap you up in a tight hug. "Yer...always so warm, like bein' under the sun on a hot day. I'm still getting used to that feelin', but this helps more than you know."

Your heart swells as you lay your head on his shoulder, absorbing all of his affection in the moment.

"Of course, Sakura. You deserve to be happy and feel like you belong."

His grip tightens on your shirt, a shiver running down his spine at your words. One day, he'll be able to tell you how you've made him feel at home for awhile now, and that the material possession are a nonfactor.

You pull back from his hug and pat him on the shoulders. "I'll help you put everything away and whatnot."

The two of you spend the next hour unpacking all of the goodies you've bought, leaving the picture frame for last. Sakura grabs the frame and paces the apartment a few times, pondering where exactly he wants to put it until the perfect spot pops into his mind.

Right above the shoe rack so you can welcome him home every single day with your bright smile.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Oi oi can’t get kaji being in a fight and absolutely loosing it and he can‘t let go of his rage so hiragi has to go get reader so she can calm hin and snap him out of it out of my head

welcome back. [kaji]

you were scared of a lot of things — the dark, bugs, long alleyways, sudden loud noises, violence; kaji, on the other hand, wasn’t scared of anything. he had no issues walking through the dark, didn’t mind when bugs flew by him, braved alleyways as if it was no different than taking a stroll through the park, never winced at a loud noise, and didn’t shirk away from violence like you did. how ironic (yet on par with the pattern) it was that the one thing you didn’t fear happened to be the only thing kaji did.

a/n: okay so this is also sorta combining two similar requests (one was more angsty so I added some angst in here) but like… I just love this idea??? like oml I’m falling hard for kaji like head over heels and back again.

wc: 1.3k

c/w: fem!reader, established relationships, angst, hurt/comfort w generously sprinkled fluff, fairly graphic depictions of violence/blood, kaji 🫠, language, I think I tagged everything but if you notice something pls lmk

you were scared of a lot of things — the dark, bugs, long alleyways, sudden loud noises, violence; kaji, on the other hand, wasn’t scared of anything. he had no issues walking through the dark, didn’t mind when bugs flew by him, braved alleyways as if it was no different than taking a stroll through the park, never winced at a loud noise, and didn’t shirk away from violence like you did. how ironic (yet on par with the pattern) it was that the one thing you didn’t fear happened to be the only thing kaji did.

kaji had briefly expressed this fear to you; but when he did so, it never seemed to feel very deep to you — like it was only something that affected him on a surface level, not something that had burrowed deep into his bones and constricted his very being on a day to day basis.

it wasn’t until a battered-looking hiragi had dragged you nearly half-way across town and straight to a scene that would have been more appropriate within a horror movie than in the middle of a sunset-drenched town that you realized just how cavernous this fear of kaji’s was — and why.

“what is—?” you could barely even produce words — your eyes were wide as you took in the sight before you; battered bodies lay scattered across the street, and if it weren’t for the multiple groans rising from them you would have assumed them cadavers, what with the amount of blood that covered them — and in the center of the carnage was none other than kaji. your muscles felt as though they were gripped by large, icy claws, chilled and immovable.

his headphones had been discarded from his head, laying feet away from him, the plastic cracked and scuffed from an obvious rough impact. thwacks and cracks split through the air as kaji rained a fist down on the face of the man he was currently straddling; the man was clearly unconscious, body limp and lips producing no audible sounds. even from the distance, you could see the sheer damage inflicted to the man’s face, and it was mortifying.

if kaji didn’t stop, he was going to kill him.

“I haven’t been able to snap him out of it,” hiragi panted beside you. “when I tried he just — turned on me. I was thinking if you called out to him, it might work.”

“what?” you croaked — you couldn’t understand why, but your throat felt thick, and your eyes burned with heat. you felt like you couldn’t breathe — was this fear? it felt similar, but…

“there’s no time, okay?! just call his name, quick!” hiragi barked, and you shook yourself harshly. you could do this — you just had to call out to him. kaji would listen to you. he would.

“kaji,” you tried, but your voice came out weak — small, as if your body didn’t want it to be heard. damn it, if you didn’t do something… why were you even scared? this was kaji!

“kaji!” you screamed, and the fist that was poised in the air stilled — kaji didn’t look in your direction, but the fact that he hadn’t yet thrown the punch meant something, didn’t it?

that weight atop your chest lightened and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. your lip quivered slightly when you gently ventured, “it’s over now, kaji. just come back, okay?”

kaji didn’t move. his entire body was frozen. that feeling that had frozen your feet to the cement seemed to disappear entirely, and you took a few steps towards kaji —

hiragi’s hand flashed out as quick as lightning and his fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea just ye—”

hiragi wasn’t able to finish his sentence; in what seemed like less than a second kaji had abandoned the man he was straddling and was now right in front of hiragi, his hand crushing his wrist in a brutal grip.

“don’t you fucking touch her,” kaji snarled, lips drawn back — from this proximity, you could see liquid saccharine of blood smeared across his lips; but he had no visible cuts, so where had that blood come from?

you didn’t have any time to worry about that — kaji’s eyes were narrowed, nothing but sharp steel daggers as they locked onto hiragi; with the intent to kill. kaji’s grip had caused hiragi’s fingers to release your wrist, and in a move that you were sure could have been stupid you wrenched yourself between hiragi and kaji.

you wrapped your arms around his ribs and buried your face into his chest — the strong, pungent scent of copper had you wrinkling your nose and your stomach twisting; part of you wanted to wrench away from it, but beneath that overwhelming scent was kaji — sweet powdered sugar and fresh-linen detergent, a combination that had soaked into your pillow from the various nights he’d stayed over. the very scent that cradled you sleep when he wasn’t there. the very scent that, no matter how often it wafted into your nose, you craved to smell in your every waking moment.

this was still kaji.

it was kaji’s heartbeat thundering in your ear, it was kaji’s breath tickling the top of your head, it was kaji’s warmth soaking into your body from beneath kaji’s sweatshirt.

your kaji was still there — you just had to bring him back.

“kaji, it’s okay,” you murmured into his chest. “I’m okay. it’s just hiragi. I’m safe, kaji.”

you weren’t sure why you had worded it that way; it was simply what your rapid heart had told you to do. but it worked — kaji dropped hiragi’s wrist you heard the older boy stumble back with a grunt.

kaji’s arms fell limp to his sides and his breath shuddered his ribcage. you kept your face pressed against his chest and your arms tightly wound around him. something wet plopped onto the fabric of your shirt, soaking into it and wetting your skin.

it took you a moment to realize that that wet warmth was coming from kaji — and that his ribs were shuddering from the force of barely-contained sobs, not heavy breathing.

“kaji?” you whispered, pulling back to look up at him. fat tears rolled down his cheeks and his brows were pinched tightly together — his teeth dug into the plump flesh of his bottom lip; it was an expression of pure agony — but not agony felt on a physical level.

your heart constricted in your chest and your very soul shook, the need to wipe that look away and smother all the pain within overwhelming your entire body. before you could think about it you unwound your arms from his ribs and brought your hands up to cradle his face.

you surged upwards and slotted your lips against his; you may have been squeezing his cheeks a little too hard within your palms, and you knew that the salt you were tasting on your tongue wasn’t from kaji’s tears alone — but you had to tell him. you didn’t know what you had to tell him; but you prayed with every fiber of your being that he’d hear it, that he would understand and believe it.

kaji seemed to, at least on some level, because his shoulders slanted and his hands met the curve of your hips. his fingertips dug into the meat there as if it were a lifeline — and with the way he pressed his lips back against yours, you knew it was.

only when you felt your message had been received loud and clear did you pull your lips from his, but you kept your hands firmly in place on his cheeks. you pulled his face down slightly so that you could press your forehead against his and feel his breath fan over your lips.

“welcome back.” you whispered, a sentiment meant to be shared only between the two of you, one to be understood and deciphered only by kaji— and it was, evident in the way his voice was thick with emotion when he murmured,

“thank you.”

I hope I conveyed what the sentiment is~ I’m not too good at really emotional things like this but it was very very fun to give it a try! I kinda teared up a bit ngl

also, there’s a lot more kaji content to come! I’m so excited for it!

boyfriend.

yandere!female!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied (cyber)stalking, cheating, dub-con, alcohol/intoxication, characters written as 18+ note - riddle seeks to prune the filthy weeds from your life, starting with your ill-mannered boyfriend. // inspired by dove cameron's boyfriend.

i. i can’t believe we’re finally alone. i can’t believe i almost went home. what are the chances? everyone’s dancing, and he’s not with you.

Riddle has never traveled to this part of the city before—the seedy, unsavory sliver overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, illicit, perilous secrets tucked away in every alley. It’s not as if she’s here under duress. Although if you were to frame it from her perspective, it would feel less like an active, consensual choice and more of a you’ve-forced-my-hand choice. It’s blatant rule-breaking all the same, a stain on her delicate character. Blight on her shiny social status as a golden child, forever marked as the obedient one.

She’s lived her rebellious streak, was punished swiftly and accordingly, and strived to be better in the aftermath. It was one thing to slip out during independent study, and that fun had been trampled upon by a cruel, heeled foot. That was a child’s error. A lesson learned. A valid reason to sever all distractions and improve academically, consequently maturing with sharp, sparkling intelligence and abysmal social skills. 

But Riddle is no longer that starry-eyed, impressionable child, and she does not make the same mistake twice.

Or so she’s always believed, but she’s willing to risk an unforgiving tongue-lashing and life imprisonment at the hands of her mother if it means she can fix things. No matter how she spins it, the truth remains the same: She’s fallen back on an old habit, sneaking out and keeping secrets. She’s an open book to Trey, though, who she’d taken care to message on the train ride into the city, her text mostly cryptic: Should anything happen, this is where I’ll be. It’s wrong to skirt around the truth, especially when it’s your closest friend. She knows this, but then she also knows Trey gives terribly good advice. The type of terribly good advice you often don’t want to hear.

Advice like: “You need to let her go.”

And Riddle can’t—won’t. 

So she steps into the digital footprints left by that brash, brutish party animal you lovingly call your boyfriend, and she follows the string of social media posts like a diligent detective, flicking through each with manicured fingernails. She commits them to memory so that they remain imprinted in her mind before they’ll eventually expire at the twenty-four hour mark.

In the days leading up to tonight, Cater had taken her out for their usual self-care makeover day, which was really just a day dedicated to dressing up and gossiping at the salon. It was a monthly arrangement, and it kept the both of them entertained and sane. The latter of those two was called into question when Riddle, wholly out of character, selected black nail polish for her mani-pedi, which left Cater looking on with brewing curiosity. She gazed at him, pouty lips upturned slyly, and said, “I thought I’d give red a temporary break.”

“Oh, but red is so your color!” he insisted, raising his phone to capture both of them in frame. 

Riddle smiled at the camera. “I know.”

It has always been her color, a staple in her closet. It’s a favorite she can never truly shake, hence why it stains her lips instead. Bright like arterial blood, a blossoming carnation, it stands out starkly on her pale countenance—the only splotch of color on her person. Cater took her shopping when he’d learned she was attempting to fit a new style into her wardrobe of prim, modest clothes. They ran up and down the racks, grinning at each other from across the store and holding up sweaters and skirts, weighing whether either would suit Riddle’s night out. In the end, she settled for the outfit she wears now: a red tube top, a cropped puffer jacket, a pencil skirt that doesn’t pass the fingertip test (not that she cares to follow that rule), tights, and knee-high heeled boots. To finish the look, she’s pulled her hair from its usual plaits, allowing it to cascade down her back like a crimson waterfall. Fingerless lace gloves adorn her hands, stitched with intricate patterns of roses and thorns.

Cater called it the Femme Fatale Friday fit. It’s a Saturday night, but it feels like Friday when she peers at her reflection in a pocket mirror, checking her makeup once more. 

She will not make the same mistake twice. She’s a paragon of perfection—Riddle Rosehearts, for seven’s sake! 

Stuffing the mirror into a matching handbag, she eyes the skyscraper looming before her, sleek with its metal framework and industrial glass. The bright cityscape reflects off of each window, dazzling with luminous specks of light. She considers the contents in her purse, reviews each with a critical eye, and inhales a steadying breath. 

This is necessary.

She’s an adult now, nearly finished with her graduate studies. She lives on her own in a quaint, pet-friendly apartment with her hedgehog, and she works part-time at the café down the street, putting forth her best effort as she weathers the woes of university. Despite all of this independence, she doesn’t feel like an adult. 

Not when she can hear her mother in the back of her head: You look ridiculous. Come home right now before you make a fool of yourself and sully my good name.

Riddle scowls at the concrete, curling her fingers into fists. 

She’s an adult now. She is not her mother’s doll.

Leaving all hostility and self-doubt at the door, she steps through the lobby and beelines for the lift. It carries her to her destination—one of the highest floors. A penthouse suite. 

And not just any penthouse suite. Floyd Leech’s penthouse suite.

Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly set foot in his territory. She survived four years of school with him, which was already a sickening amount, and in that time she watched him glide through his undergraduate with just barely passing grades. That wasn’t enough to stoke the red-hot embers of envy, though. It only made him seem even more like a cockroach, unable to be crushed by the weight of scholarly responsibilities, for he never took anything seriously.

For that reason, Riddle has never envied Floyd. But by the end of their third year, he had something Riddle didn’t. 

He had you. 

How he managed to settle into a relationship when all he did was slack off, party, and break the rules was beyond Riddle. He was a slippery delinquent, hardly deserving of your sweet affections, and yet you looked at him like he was the only one on the planet. Just where was the appeal? His manner of dress is sloppy. The way he carries himself is unpalatable and crude. The way he acts suggests his insipience is incurable. Even when he applies himself, he is still Floyd and that doesn’t clean his slate or shine his reputation. So in Riddle’s discerning eyes, he does not possess a scintilla of romantic appeal.

You don’t seem to agree with these sentiments, for you’ve been with Floyd for four long years. 

Love is blinding, but Riddle has never been in love before and so she doesn’t have adequate data to prove this point. It was forbidden in her home. She’s only allowed to love the men her mother handpicks, plucking each specimen like they’re ripened strawberries from a bush. In the beginning she found all manner of minor details to excuse them from her life, insisting upon a nonexistent list of impossibly high standards. He was too tall. He was too forward with his interest. He wore contrasting colors. He didn’t like tea. These reasons were far too critical and childish, and each man had been sent away in a huff. Her mother would scold her, halving her with a nasty glare: “Are you planning to die alone?”

Yes, Riddle realized by the twentieth admonishment, yet another man cast aside. If dying alone means romantic freedom in life, I’ll do just that.

The elevator spits her out into the hall, which isn’t as silent as she thought it’d be. Bass shakes through the walls, reverberating all the way through her ribs as if it intends to stir up her organs. She catches her reflection in the windows, noting the dark, monstrous scowl, and smooths her face into something courageous. She means business as she clicks down the hall, preparing herself for the whirlwind that undoubtedly waits behind the door. Riddle starts to wonder how Floyd’s neighbors have yet to file a noise complaint and then stops, her thoughts cutting off abruptly. It’s a challenge to make complaints when your father holds parts of the city’s underground in his palms.

He’s got it easy, that spoiled pest. 

Riddle’s gait slows to a halt and she reaches out to knock thrice. The door is thrown open before she can even bring her fist down. Soon she’s staring at a rosy-cheeked stranger, whose eyes trace her figure like he’s trying to paint her on his mental canvas. She’s prepared for the worst, having tucked the spray in her bag, its container disguised to look like lipstick. The strawberry keychain hanging from her purse is a self-defense alarm, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. His ogling does not frighten her, nor do his intentions, if he can even harbor any in that intoxicated brain of his. She’s braved scarier horrors. Like living out years of her life with her mother.

“Heyyy, you one of Floyd’s girls? Here for the party?”

Riddle suppresses the disgusted shiver threatening to crawl up her spine, swallowing bile. “Just the party.” 

She is no one’s girl. Definitely not Floyd’s. 

When she’s let inside and the stench of sweat and alcohol assault her nostrils, coupled with the too-loud party music, she considers retreating, her mother’s judgment echoing: You look ridiculous. Her fingers twitch towards her purse. One text and Trey would pick her up. One call and Cater would be on his way. But then she’d be forced to tell them the truth—would have to admit that she’s chasing the one person she can never have. 

She hardens her resolve, pushes through the throng of bodies in an effort to find refreshments, and there you are, her perfect, pretty wallflower in a perfect, pretty silver dress. The dim neon lighting casts you in a luscious pink haze, and she watches you scroll through your phone, your eyelids falling and opening. You’re so beautiful—the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, more saccharine than a truckload of strawberry tarts. Her hand slides away from her purse, and she tamps down a gleeful smile, stepping over to you with newfound confidence.

“(Name)?”

You turn your whole body towards her, your gaze unfocused. She can smell the liquor on you, can see the hickeys not quite covered by a velvet choker. Her gaze narrows. He’s all over you, isn’t he? From top to bottom, you are covered in traces of him. Her nose scrunches. Just what do you see in him?

It should be her teeth on your skin, tearing it open, bruising it, tasting slick copper on her tongue. It should have always been her, but it’s not. Why did you have to settle for less when you’re entitled to so much more?

You peer at her like she’s something in a museum, perplexing and abstract. And then it clicks. You gasp, your mouth falling open in awe, and your words come out horribly slurred. She fails to hide her wince when you throw your arms around her, hanging off of her like a tote on a shoulder.

“Riddle! You…seriously showed up… Can’t believe it’s really you. It feels like it’s been forever.” You pull away, swaying with the motion, and place your hands on her arms. “Your outfit is suuuper cute.”

She’s blushing. She knows she is because her face is burning with heat and suddenly it’s much too stifling in here. “Oh. Ah, um, t-thank you very much… You look very nice, too.”

Really? Is that the best thing I could say? ‘You look very nice’? Honestly, Riddle…

But you smile, and the sight steals her heart all over again. You can have it. By all means take her heart. Take it and love it to pieces. That way it will be fair when she takes yours. An even exchange in accordance with the rules of love. 

Or maybe it’s more so the rules of romantic warfare, carried out to the extreme on a chessboard. Or a croquet court. Something sporty and metaphorical, anyway.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, refusing to say his name lest she speak him into existence and tarnish her near-perfect evening.

Her question strikes a chord within you, and you heave an exaggerated sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall for support. “Left me to go hang with the guys. S’not fair!” you whine, sliding further down until you’re sitting in a defeated heap. 

Riddle bends down to your height, her tone as soft and sympathetic as her expression. “Does he always do this?”

Hurt flashes across your face, but you don’t say anything. So he does. Why is she not surprised?

Who in the world leaves their partner at a party, vulnerable and alone? Riddle thinks, anger flaring up in her chest. Someone could take advantage of you. You’re in no state to be standing here by yourself. That fool… He doesn’t know how to treat a lady at all. How have you put up with him for four years? Your patience amazes me.

“It’s not like…” You shut your eyes and rest your head against the wall. “Not like an always-happening thing…”

Riddle isn’t going to sugarcoat it. She wants her words to cut deep, all the way to the heart you’ve allowed Floyd to bind. “Whether or not he does it often, the fact still stands that he left you intoxicated in the corner of this room. That’s careless and unsafe.” She tilts her head, admiring the way you’ve done your makeup, the way your plush lips jut out in a miserable pout. And it just rushes out, words she’s thought but never had the courage to say. At least, not to the sober you. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Like me, she almost adds, but that’s too direct. And she’s not even sure the admission will land when you’re so out of it.

“Appreciate it…” You scrub your face, groaning. “Ugh. I feel sick…”

“Would you like to get some fresh air?” 

You shake your head, stubborn to a fault. “Can’t. Gotta wait for Floyd.”

Riddle frowns. “I highly doubt he’s coming back anytime soon.” 

“Still.”

“At the very least, let’s get you some water.” She offers her hand, hoping and praying to the heavens above that you’ll take it.

You do. It’s a flawless fit. Her heart flutters, weightless and feathery, when her fingers close around yours. She wonders what moisturizer you use, what sort of lotions kiss your skin. Are they scented, or is that just your perfume? Or have you done away with perfume for tonight and is that a natural fragrance? Or maybe it’s the sweet scent of a fruity wine, printed on your tongue like a delicious tattoo. 

She wants to kiss you. 

“Just how much have you had to drink?” 

“Like a cup or two? I…dunno. Does it matter?”

You stumble when she helps you up, grabbing at her shoulder for support. Riddle almost falls back, but the wall braces her. You place your palm right by her head, and suddenly you’re leaning in, inadvertently pinning her to the wall. Her pupils nearly eclipse her blue-grey irises, and her breath sticks in her throat. Oh, you’re so close. You’re a drunken mess, pushing yourself up against her, your beauty enveloping her like a chrysalis. If this is a dream, she never wants to wake, for the world that awaits her beyond this is cold and colorless. 

Your head lowers to the dip between shoulder and neck, and she gazes heavenward. The ceiling is much nicer at this moment, if only so she can clear her own heady haze of impure thoughts. 

There are people about, she has to remind herself, shaking off the urge to close her fingers around your chin and tilt your head up to meet her mouth. And she has a boyfriend. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.

But the chance is much too beguiling. You’re right here, quite literally within her reach, and Floyd’s nowhere in sight. It’s too perfect. She can’t quite wrap you in an affectionate embrace—though that is an irresistible urge she must fight off—so she settles to rub circles into your back instead, dutifully reflecting the role of a concerned friend. It’s not the part she wishes to play. Rather, she’d gladly take on the title of boyfriend if it meant you’d feel loved. Every day, at every hour, for the rest of your life. She’d do all the things Floyd ought to do: care for you, appreciate you, protect you, stay by your side through thick and thin. 

Love is a dangerous, thorny thing, but it’s the encroaching jealousy that kills. 

Floyd doesn’t deserve you. If anything, he deserves a mouth full of soap to scrub every profanity he’s ever uttered. Just what does he tell you in bed? That you’re a good girl? That you’re soooo tight? That you can take it? Does he know which ways you like it? Does he know where to touch so you’ll unravel faster? Does he know how to get you properly, thoroughly worked up, so much so that it feels like your skin is aflame with potent want and desire? 

Does he even know your anatomy, or are you simply a body for his avaricious appetite? 

Like roses twining possessively around a trellis, Riddle holds you close in her arms, her hand sweeping across your lower back. Her glacial eyes scan the crowd, warding off anyone who may be curious with her most malevolent death stare. 

“Mm… I need to lie down. My head is…spinning…”

With that, the murderous, overprotective haze sticking to Riddle like a poisonous fog dissipates. A sickly sweet smile widens on ruby-red lips. “Let’s find someplace quiet.”

Together, the two of you stagger-walk out of the room, leaving the party and its inhabitants behind. Crossing through the attached kitchenette, Riddle pilfers a bottled water from the fridge.

Her mind is sharp as a cut diamond. Her skin prickles with anticipation.

Down the hall you go, with Riddle supporting you with what minimal physical strength she has. A door looms before the both of you, cast in a comfortable glow from a neighboring skyscraper, and you struggle to pull your heels off while she pushes the door open. It reveals a messy room, clothing and candy wrappers strewn about sloppily. 

Riddle feels like she’s on top of the world, and she is. Up in the clouds on the forty-third floor of this luxurious penthouse apartment. 

ii. i could be a better boyfriend than him. i could do the shit that he never did. up all night, i won’t quit. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle pined. Hopelessly. Forlornly. Desperately.

Hungrily. 

It was unbecoming to want something to such an obsessive degree. She buried herself in her studies to do away with lustful delusions, each more distracting than the last. But then you would crop up in her life when she least expected it and soon the two of you were studying together. Soon you were visiting her dorm to watch movies during the times in which she allowed herself the break (and she only did so because it was you). Soon you were spending nights in her room, sleeping sprawled on the floor even though she offered her bed time and time again. You’d get ready in the mornings, debating what the breakfast menu would entail. She’d watch your reflection in the floor mirror as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, eyeing the way you slid seamlessly into a lacy black bra. And then she’d change out of her nightgown, and you’d comment on her undergarments. 

“We should go shopping sometime. You gotta get cuter stuff!”

“Why should I? No one’s going to see it,” she insisted with a flustered huff.

“I’ll see it the next time I sleep over,” you told her, smiling innocently as you stepped into a blue handkerchief skirt. “Besides, there are so many cute sets you could wear. You’d look so pretty in something red and frilly. You’re totally missing out.”

Riddle considered it back then. Your eager eyes had almost won her over, but she was firm in her decision. “I’m fine with what I have now.” 

And the conversation ended there. She really wishes you would have pushed it back then because just a little nudge in that direction and she would have given in, entirely at your mercy. 

Selfishly, she just yearned to be stuck in a changing stall with you. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle fostered a special sort of friendship with you. You’d stop by her dorm during finals to insist she take a break, your offer too tempting. She’s always been weak to sweets. You were close enough to exchange intimate details with one another. She listened to all of your dating woes, and conversely you’d sit still and bear witness to her ramblings about fascinating law facts. Sometimes she’d rant about her mother. You always listened. “She sounds like she sucks,” you said once. “How are you even related to her? You’re so nice.”

It was a pleasant three years. If she deluded herself enough, she could have pretended you were her girlfriend and then she’d have something to tell her mother to put an end to the countless attempts at scoring her a husband. I will never marry any of your options, she would think, playing the confrontation out in her head. I have a partner now and we’re very happy together. Sometimes Riddle imagined her mother tossing darts at a board with photographs of men attached to it, disregarding compatibility altogether in favor of upholding traditional rules. But then Riddle realized she’d have to die before she could ever admit her own romantic freedoms to her mother, and so that conversation only ever came about in daydreams. 

I’d rather die alone than live life shackled in a loveless marriage. She wonders if her father thought the same.

Those three years had been a wonderful reality, filled with sugared, candy-coated love. A one-sided love, sure. But Riddle could settle for platonic affections, for that was just as sweet.

And then he arrived at the doorstep to Riddle’s fantasy cottage, kicking the walls down and sweeping you off your feet.

Floyd Leech has always been a nuisance. You were there to shoo him away every time he came knocking, all broad grins and vexatious jeers. He listened to you most days, a mutt without proper leashing, oddly loyal to you. As if you were his keeper of sorts. Riddle was amazed, befuddled, and worried all at once. Unlike her, you could keep your cool, could still smile so kindly even when Floyd was being an utter pain in the ass with his foolish nicknames. When he tried to pluck Riddle’s hairpin from out of her braids—a handmade gift you had given her for her birthday—she slapped him hard across the face and hissed, “Don’t ever put your filthy paws on me again.”

And maybe it was because you were there that she was able to recover shortly after the outburst. (Although she still meant that slap with every fiber of her being.) Maybe you were her collar. Maybe you were her keeper. Maybe she was meant to meet you so that you could color her world, lead her along into the friendship she’d been robbed of as a child. 

Looking back, Riddle realizes that was the catalyst. Because when Floyd cradled his bright-red cheek, giggling like a maniac, you asked him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you bother someone else?”

And then you were made the prime target. 

What’s worse is that you reveled in it, adored every ounce of attention Floyd gave you like it was something holy, later admitting to Riddle during a movie marathon that you “wondered if Floyd was seeing anyone.” She wanted to retch. You, a seraph incarnate, with a devil like Floyd? Impossible. But your tone was so whimsical; you were dreaming of it. You liked him. 

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

By the end of her third year, just as finals gave way to summer, you threw your arms around Floyd’s neck while he pressed you up against the trunk of a flowering tree. Pink petals fluttered to the ground, and with the falling blossoms came Riddle’s hope, crashing and burning in a heartbroken heap. 

She won’t make the same mistake twice, which is precisely why, when you flop onto Floyd’s unmade bed, she turns the lock to keep all outside influences away. The party is but a mere muffle now, thrumming through the floorboards with reckless abandon.

Her nose wrinkles at the pile of dirty laundry. Slob, she thinks, brimming with hate. What does she see in you? You’re a mess, you’re definitely a criminal, you can’t keep a stable job, you throw obnoxious parties every other week, you leave your own girlfriend unattended… What part of that is appealing? She gazes at you next. You’re too good for him, (Name). You can do so much better. Raise your standards. Find someone respectable and attentive. Someone who’ll stay with you forever. Someone who won’t let you get stupidly drunk and then run off to Queen-knows-where.

“Someone like me,” she mutters.

You have to be coerced into drinking, and you’re so sleepy that the water dribbles down your chin. Riddle tuts at you, swiping the liquid away with her sleeve. 

“You’re a mess,” she says, affectionate despite the barb. 

You’re my mess.

She slides your heels off, casting them elsewhere. You look like a starfish when you lay sprawled, or maybe you’re more like a snow angel. Only rather than snow, you imprint yourself amongst wrinkled sheets. Riddle knows it’s wrong, but you’re right here. She’s waited so many years for a moment like this one.

It’s not fair. 

She unzips her boots, kicks them off, and stands at the edge of the bed, locked in a fierce debate. You should have thrown your arms around her that day. You should have kissed her, should have spent the last four years with her, should have stayed in her life like the permanent fixture you were destined to be. She’s never wanted anything more than this. Not even a surplus of strawberry tarts. Not even the dreams she’s working tirelessly towards achieving. She’s only ever wanted you. 

But Floyd took you away, and her world has never been the same since. 

The mattress dips under her weight; she’s made up her mind. 

“Do you remember the promise we made?” she whispers, running her hands up your legs. You lift your head to look at her, eyes glassy with inebriated exhaustion. “The one in which we’d live together after graduation? You said you’d want to live somewhere pet-friendly so we could get hedgehogs and name them Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

You hum, your lashes fluttering. 

“We could still do that. Just you and me. Without your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Her fingers catch on the waistband of your panties. “Hm?” 

“Mm, no, nothing… You should get going. It’s late…” “Someone has to look after you.”

“Floyd can.”

She presses her thumbs into your hips and the tiniest gasp leaves your parted lips. “But Floyd’s not.”

“He will.”

“He won’t,” she snaps. Something flickers in your eyes, a flash of unrest. Riddle chews her lower lip. “He’s… (Name), what do you see in him? Honestly, truly, what is it? Please educate me. Please… What does he have that I don’t? What makes you stay?”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” you mutter slowly, perplexed, “and I love him.”

“Do you?” 

“Riddle, why are you so…” The words fizzle out on your tongue when her touch strays too close to home. “Wait… We can’t… Not in here.”

“Why not? It’s just one more mess. He won’t even notice.”

“That’s not it… Riddle, wait. I… I don’t like you in that—”

She collapses, anchoring herself to you, her manicured nails digging deep into your arms. And then her mouth is on yours, clumsy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t want to hear it—can’t bear to hear it. She knows the truth. It’s haunted her from the day she met you, a shadow looming like a guillotine’s blade. You were fated to be forever out of reach. Just like those strawberry tarts in the bakery window. The kiss is filthy, all desire and zero skill. Her tongue flashes into your mouth. It’s nothing like the way they describe it in fiction or portray it in films. It’s obscene. Sinful. Libidinous. Her lipstick smears; she tastes the wine in your throat, licks your teeth and nibbles your lip, delicate and gruesome all at once. She tries her best, unyielding. 

The technique doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. It’s just blind, unrequited passion. She’ll learn it eventually and when she does she’ll kiss you drunk. It’s just another thing she’ll master. And she will because that’s just who she is. Give her a textbook and she’ll have it memorized. Give her a kiss and she’ll return to practice it to perfection. 

She pulls away, panting, her lipstick in disarray. It’s all over you, smudging on the corners of your mouth. Running a hand through her hair, her figure outlined in the tantalizing glow from the city lights, she licks her lips. 

“Riddle…” 

Spoken soft like prayer, it’s a whisper she’ll treasure. Over and over, without end, repeat it like a mantra. 

“Riddle, please…”

“He doesn’t know anything about your preferences, does he?” Your dress is slid up next. She traces a heart into your bare stomach, capturing your navel in invisible lines. You shudder under her touch, grabbing at her wrist with a limp hand. She brings it up to her lips and presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “I know you much better than he does. I always have.”

To prove it, she presses two fingers to your clothed pussy. You whine, reedy and high-pitched. “But…”

“I read it takes fourteen minutes for women to reach their end during partnered sex.” She levels you with a half-lidded stare, smirking. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in raw confidence. “I’ll only need less than that, so you won’t have to feign anything for my sake. I know you well enough, my rose.”

A wide range of emotions waltzes across your countenance. Your arm falls over your face next. It’s defeat or hesitant acceptance, but to Riddle it’s love. 

“Ten minutes,” you whisper, conceding. “And then…you need to leave.”

She makes you cum in just five, covers you in lipstick prints, each kiss a sly cover-up. Floyd may be all over you, bites and bruises blooming new and old, but he’s not inside you, wringing you out like a sodden towel. You sob like you’re in heat when she sinks her fingers into your slick warmth, scissoring so slowly, until you’re begging her to make you cum again. Your fluids soak through the sheets. The scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air. She’s alive, wildly untamed, a knight who’s just rescued the princess and slayed a bloodthirsty dragon. 

Her head is between your thighs next, her hands braced on either leg to keep them apart. You watch her with glazed eyes, soon throwing your head back when she slides your hood up to reveal your pretty, pert clit. Experimentally, she licks a teasing stripe up your slit. You shiver and dig your fingers into her scalp, imprisoning her there. It’s where she’s always wanted to be. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs, the words fanning across your pussy, “if he’s so good, why haven’t you proven it? Is this the most you’ve ever cum in a night? Does he please you or do you please him? If he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, why are you still so unsatisfied?” 

“Because… B-Because!”

Your protests are fragmented and spotted with gasps. That’s arguably more telling than a detailed response. 

Riddle smiles like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed victoriously. Spidery digits creep along your thighs. Her thumbs dip into your pussy, spreading it wide for her viewing pleasure. “Don’t think of him. Tonight, it’s just you and me. I’ll give you what you’re owed. That and so much more.”

Like a fragile statue, you topple. Right into her, bucking against her mouth like the world is ending, and she’s there to steady you.

She always is.

iii. i’m gonna steal you from him. i could be such a gentleman. plus, you know my clothes would fit.

“Sooo… Gimme the goss. How was your night out?”

Riddle looks up from an assortment of nail polish colors, each one more red than the last, and says, “It was more enjoyable than I thought.”

“Yeah?” Cater prompts, brows raised. “Don’t be so vague! I wanna know all the juicy details. It’s rare for you to stay out so late. And to go to a party, of all things, in the city? Hello?! New Riddle, who’s this?” 

“I was only meeting an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

The technician asks her to pick a color. “This one,” she says, pointing. “The one named Sanguine Sunrise.” 

“You’re totes keeping me in the dark!” Cater whines, dramatic. “At least give Cay-Cay some hints! Something! Anything! Spare change, please?”

Riddle smiles smugly. Pride drips from every syllable when she speaks next. “My friend will be spending this Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Bummer.”

“Not quite. She’ll have me and half-priced chocolates. A rather charming combination, no?”

Cater laughs. “GL. I’m rooting for you.”

You don’t need to, she thinks, tracing the love bite stamped into her skin, hidden under the soft fabric of her blouse. Because I’m already winning.

Her phone buzzes with a text: about last night… if i did anything weird, i’m so sorry. i was way too drunk. 

Riddle turns it over, dips her feet in the heated water, and settles into the massage chair, pleased as a peach. “It was one bad decision. Four years of bad decisions, but it’s forgiven. We all make silly mistakes when we’re lovestruck. Hopefully her silly mistake disappears for good and we never have to speak of him again.”

“You’re so scary, Riddle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Another message arrives: i think we might’ve kissed last night. i’m really super sorry.

There’s a brief delay.

ok this is gonna sound weird coming from me but maybe we can do it again??? floyd’s kisses are sorta… :/ 

Her phone vibrates for the final time that afternoon.

actually i’m just gonna stop talking omg i’m crazy. i have a bf and everything. sorry riddle please ignore all of this kk tysm ttyl <3

wait one more text before i forget,, if you wanna meet up for tea i wouldn’t mind. we should definitely catch up when i’m not hungover. kk bye fr this time <3

A start is a start. You can’t grow a rose tree without first planting a seed.

Hiiii, just to say I love your Shishitoren and Bofurin contents, I'm so glad that I found your blog 😊. Personally, I prefer Togame, but your writing of them all is so great ^.^

Could you maybe do a jealous story like them reacting to you beings jealous or just them being jealous/possessive (I love this trope)?

Like Togame and Suo being jealous, just give me life 😂

It's okay if you don't want too no worry ^^❤️

(Sorry if it's not clear. English isn't my first language)

When they are jealous

—Haruka Sakura, Toma Hiragi, Jo Togame, Hayato Suo

Haruka Sakura

When it comes to someone else taking your attention away, as much as he'd like to convince himself he's chill about it, inside he is jumping around in circles.

For the most part, he's able to control himself and differentiate when you're being just kind and flirting back, so usually, he doesn't mind it if another guy speaks to you in a nicer tone.

However, if he comes to notice that the guy begins to go on a tangent, ultimately speaking a little too much to you than he'd like, starts to grow a bit irritated. Of course he won't go up to the guy and punch him, after all, the person he so happens to be usually jealous of is Nirei.

His face transforms into a small scowl, while trying to shift his eyes away from the scene. At the same time he keeps repeating to himself,

'I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care.'

Spoiler alert, he does care.

The worst part is, he can not blame the air-headed male for acting like how he acts, when it's literally his personality. So when he witnesses the both of you becoming a little too friendly, the best he will do is force himself into the conversation, regardless if he was even in it or not.

Afterwards when Nirei finally leaves, he waits till he's far enough before launching his body towards yours in a flash.

Toma Hiragi

If you've never seen jealous, then you have now. It's not the usual for Hiragi to explode on sight at another dude that seems to be hitting on you, other than if it was a random guy, then he's surely dragging you away with him to wherever, while cussing out the boy to leave you alone.

But when it comes to people he knows, he's jealous of Umemiya, and not for those reasons. Hiragi is aware that he's best friend simply has an outgoing and extroverted personality, he doesn't blame him whenever he gets a little too close. But jeez does it drive him crazy on the inside.

His mood instantly shifts, but not in way anyone would expect it to go. Rather then blowing up at the grey-haired male, instead, the atmosphere around him grows calmer, almost as if he's trying to avoid its not happening. The tactic for him, is it straight up ignore it by any means possible.

He'll start responding with dryer answers to anyone and spends a hefty amount of time on his phone to get the scene off his mind of Umemiya guiding you with him around the place on the roof top. He might even throw in some earbuds and blast rock music.

Afterwards when you two are back together, you can't tell if he had a scowl on his face while walking away with you by his side.

"Is something the matter?" You asked looking up at him. He doesn't say anything, still too pissed about what happened earlier so instead, he reaches his long arm behind your back to the side of your hip and brings you a bit closer to him without saying another word.

Jo Togame

Whenever he finds himself in a tight situation, specifically in public when a guy that's being friendlier than usual comes by to say hello, he's able to hold himself together very well for the first few minutes.

He even adds himself to the conversation whenever he sees a chance to—purely because he does not want to seem like a loose thread just watching the both of you speak when he's right beside you standing like a weirdo. However, when he starts to take note of how the other guy is getting closer, all up in your face, flat out ignoring whenever your boyfriend chimes in, and worst of all throwing in hints that you two should meet another time, he knows right away.

This is one of the very few times where he finds it extremely hard to keep his cool and usually, he's able to do that.

Seeing that he can't really talk to the guy because he keeps ignoring him, he'll slickly wrap his arm around your shoulder to lean on you or he'll wrap his arm around your waist and at the slightest—pull you closer to him. He stays quiet the entire time, he won't see this situation as such a huge deal where he has to hammer the guy into pieces, but there is a tiny part of him where his ego begins to escape.

He'll never cut your time short simply because he wouldn't want his time to be cut short either, but the most he'll ever do (which is quite intimidating), he will whisper in your ear.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" All while putting a smile on his face.

He only does this when he feels like it's going too far and for him, it works. Hearing his deep voice whisper in your ear to watch what you're doing makes you do a reality check that if Togame really wanted to beat up the guy right in front of you, he would without a doubt.

Hayato Suo

It's extremely hard to make him feel jealous. He knows how to keep his cool and trained himself to never lash out at all, only if something absurd had happened right before his eyes. But aside from that, even if you try to get him jealous, chances are—it's not working.

Even speaking to another guy, spending more time with your friends, or replying late, he will never get jealous or mad at you for that. So what is the only circumstance where he does feel a slight hinge of jealousy?

That is only when you get physical with another guy. He can flirt with you for all he cares and yet, he will never get upset at the sight of the random guy calling you pretty (he might even add on and say "She is, isn't she?") but the moment he sees him trying to lay a finger on you, there's a chance where he'll grip his arm in midair to stop him from touching you.

"I think that's enough yes?" He says while pulling you closer to him and putting the guys arm away.

Afterwards, the whole mood of the conversation changes, in fact he might be the only one who continues his happy go lucky personality and on with the conversation. It's awkward, the way he flat out rejected the guy for you without you even asking. Not to say that you didn't appreciate it, but now it made the other guy uncomfortable which was what Hayato was striving for anyways.

He's pricky whenever someone tries to touch you and the only time where you'll see his attitude changes.

are you jealous?

synopsis: he gets jealous when he sees you with his friend

character/s: sakura, suo, kiryu

warning/s: none!

sakura: 

sakura was new to emotions, that was pretty much clear to anyone who knows him or has even heard of him. but one thing he was sure of was that he’s very fond of you and he likes being around you. 

when sakura asked you to be his, you were shocked but the bright blush that coated his face was pretty much an indicator that his feelings were genuine. and if people were to ask him, he thinks that he’s doing the best he can as a boyfriend. 

so why the hell were you spending time with suo? there was nothing wrong with hanging out with suo, but why is it always in your free time and why wasn’t he allowed to come?

sakura shouldn’t feel jealous, you’ve never given him a reason to be, and he can’t demand that you stay away from him because suo was the one who convinced sakura to confess to you in the first place, plus you were suo’s close friend before sakura was your boyfriend. 

you and suo don’t even do anything that could spark jealousy but sakura couldn’t help it, okay? he’s trying his best. 

but his best wasn’t good enough for now as he sees you and suo smiling at each other while giving each other a hug. 

“what the hell is going on here?” sakura couldn’t help the tone in his voice. he wasn’t mad, but his emotions were on a haywire.

“oh, haruka!” damn. don’t smile at him like that because he’d forget why he’s feeling conflicted in the first place. 

“hayato and i were just—” “why were you two together and why are you sweaty? what happened?” sakura asked in an accusatory tone, you took a step back, a bit surprised at the tone that your boyfriend was using on you.  

“oh? sakura-kun, are you jealous?” suo cuts you off before you could even respond with an easy smile on his face, succeeding in ticking off your boyfriend. 

“you bastard, do you want to go at it?” sakura asks, raising his sleeves and cracking his neck, looking ready to beat the daylights out of his friend. 

“now, now, sakura-kun, fighting in front of your lover is a big no-no.” suo clicks his tongue playfully as he shakes his head. you can see a vein pop out of your boyfriend’s forehead before he lunges. only to be stopped by you who mimicked suo’s technique. 

“what the fuc—” “i asked suo to train me in self defense.” you said sheepishly, “i didn’t want to keep relying on you when i’m in danger.” you continue. 

“i know you help the town enough so i didn’t want to add to that.” sakura visibly softens as your words sink in. 

“i’ll leave it to the two of you.” suo smiles and nods before he walks away, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. 

“i’m sorry… i should’ve said something.” you said.

sakura’s cheeks explode in a blush as he turns his head away and clicks his tongue. “no, it’s— i mean— damn it!” sakura struggled to find the words to say before he huffs, and tries to meet your eyes. 

“you’re my girlfriend. of course i’m gonna wanna protect you.” now it was your turn to be flustered. “you don’t need to worry about holding your own. i’m here to protect you— and furin!” sakura adds the last bit and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. 

“you should’ve just told me. i would’ve trained you instead of him.” 

“i’ll keep that in mind.” you say before you moved closer and pecked him on the cheek, sakura froze but relaxed after a split second as he felt your soft lips on his face. 

“come on, i’ll treat you to some omurice, consider it a late lunch!” you say, pulling him towards the direction of pothos. 

sakura couldn’t help but soften at your touch, his face still a bright red as he lets you lead him to the direction of the cafe.  

suo:

suo was always level headed, calm, composed and sometimes a bit cheeky, and he always seemed to have a hold on his emotions. everyone and their moms knew that. 

so there weren’t any alarm bells ringing when suo approached you with a smile on his face and his hands behind his back. you smiled once you saw him. 

“hayato, hi!” you beamed and his smile got wider. cute. he thinks as he places a hand on your head affectionately. 

“would you like to accompany me to get coffee after the day?” suo asks, you gave him an apologetic smile before you shook your head. “ah, sorry, nirei and i have plans.” 

ah. yes, nirei, again. 

“hayato, are you okay?” oh. suo didn’t even notice that his hand turned into a fist. 

“of course i am, love.” suo says, “you’ve been hanging out a lot with nirei, is everything okay?” suo asks as calmly as possible, you nod, giving him a small smile but suo can see right through it. 

“yep, peachy! i promise i’ll go on a date with you tomorrow, though.” you reassure him but suo still couldn’t help the frown that appeared on his face but nonetheless, he gives you a small nod before he lets you walk away from him. 

suo sighs before he busies himself with his daily patrol. 

he was halfway through patrolling when he saw you outside a cafe but you weren’t alone, nirei was beside you and he was showing you his notebook. suo couldn’t help it as his usual smile twitched in annoyance at how close you seemed to be. 

so with light footsteps, he headed towards the two of you and made his presence known.

“good afternoon.” if suo wasn’t fixated on the fact that the two of you were closely huddled and reading the notebook, he would’ve let out a chuckle with how quick the two of you jumped away like startled cats. 

“hayato!” “suo-san!” the two of you looked at him almost guiltily and nirei, not wanting any kind of misunderstanding, started explaining at a rapid pace. 

“this isn’t what it looks like! i know it seems like we’re up to no good but i swear it isn’t! (y/n)-chan just wanted to know more about you so she asked to meet up and read through my notes but the information i have is outdated and—” “nirei.” the blonde shuts up after hearing suo cut him off. 

“sakura-kun needs help with painting the walls behind washijo-san’s store.” nirei stood abruptly before he nodded and set off, not before waving at you, leaving his notebook behind.

you sat there with your eyes wide, face warm at getting caught reading info about your boyfriend. 

suo only smiles as he sits in the seat nirei once occupied, “so–” “don’t even start, hayato.” you say, feeling embarrassed. 

suo gives you a reassuring smile. “nothing to be embarrassed about, my love.” suo says as he takes nirei’s notebook and flips to his page, humming in acknowledgement. 

“you could’ve asked me all this, you know that, right?” “you wouldn’t have answered me properly, hayato. don’t even lie.” you huff and suo let out a mirthful chuckle. 

“it’s adorable to see you fall for my words, love.” suo says and you couldn’t help but smack his arm, your face warming up at his teasing. 

“how about this,” suo compromises, “you can ask anything and i’ll answer.” he smiled at the way your head perked up and nodded at his statement. 

“ask away, my love.”

suo still didn’t answer your questions seriously.

kiryu :

“kiryu, you said we’d do something today!” you whine as you sat on his bed, kiryu only hums as his thumbs press on the screen of his phone. “later, baby. i need to beat the boss, this level is so annoying.” kiryu whines back, adjusting his position on the bed. 

you huff, knowing that kiryu wouldn’t be paying attention to you in the next half hour because he was too locked in his game. 

you clicked your tongue, pulling up your phone to see your messages only to end up scrolling through your social media feed out of boredom.

your head perks up once you hear the doorbell to kiryu’s house ring, kiryu hums, not taking his eyes off the phone, “(y/n)-chan can you go get that for me, please?” he pouts and you oblige, finding his expression to be adorable. 

you weren’t expecting taiga to be the one behind the door and it seemed like he wasn’t expecting you to be here either. 

“oh, (y/n), hello! how are ya?” you parrot back the pleasantries, letting him inside and that was when you noticed that he brought his dumbbells to kiryu’s house. 

“what ‘chu got there?” you couldn’t help but be curious, taiga looks at where your eyes were and lets out a chuckle, flexing his arms. 

“i asked kiryu if i could come over and have him help with my workout and he said yes.” that did not sound like kiryu. 

“oh, i didn’t know you two had plans.” “it’s fine (y/n), it was sudden and kiryu agreed for me to come by after classes so here i am!”

“was kiryu playing with his phone when he agreed?” taiga looked confused. “i didn’t notice but now that ‘ya mentioned it, i think he was.” you nod. biting back a sigh. 

kiryu probably had no idea that taiga was here. 

“i’ll go get kiryu for you.” “thanks, (y/n)! ‘ppreciate it!” you trudge to kiryu’s room and see that he hasn’t moved from his spot. 

“did you know you invited taiga here?” kiryu’s eyebrows furrowed at your statement. “eh? tsuge-chan’s here? why?” 

“he said you were gonna help him with his workout.” kiryu pauses his game and you almost wanted to throw his phone across the room because it could’ve been paused?? 

“eh, that sounds so much like a hassle.” kiryu pouts, “and i’m so close to beating this game, can’t he come back tomorrow?”

“no, baby, he’s already here and that would be rude.” kiryu huffs before he smiles at you like he has a brilliant idea. 

“can you help tsuge-chan out for m–“ “no.” “please, (y/n)-chan. i promise i’ll buy you something you really like!” it took a few more convincing from the pink haired male before you finally relented. 

“fine.” kiryu grins at your surrender. “thank you baby, i love chu!” he says out cutely and you almost want to smack him with a pillow. 

you go back to where taiga was expecting kiryu before you give him an apologetic look. “ah, sorry! kiryu is currently busy but i can help you out if you’d like?” taiga looks unsure at first. 

“are ya sure, (y/n)? i don’t wanna push you or anythin’” you force a nod, “yeah, i’m sure.”

— 

when kiryu finishes the game, he isn't even aware that a lot of time has passed. he turns off his phone, raising his arms and moaning out as he stretches the kinks that accumulated from his unmoving position. 

he realizes that taiga must’ve been still in the house as he hears laughter from the living room. he trudges over to where he hears the source of the sound and the doorframe almost broke with the force he exerted as he watches the scene before him. 

you, his lovely girlfriend, was in taiga’s arm as he squats. 

“you’re so strong, taiga! i didn’t know you could do this.” kiryu’s brow twitched with annoyance. 

“‘yer not even heavy, (y/n), don’t worry about it!” taiga says as he squats you again and again. 

“what’s going on here?” kiryu asks, as clipped smile on his face as taiga sets you down 

“ah, kiryu! thanks for lending (y/n) to help out!” kiryu only hums as a response. 

“tsuge-chan, isn't it getting late?” kiryu asks and taiga’s eyes flit towards the wall clock before he gasps out loud. 

“i have to make my pre-dinner protein shake, i forgot! ‘yer such a lifesaver, kiryu!” taiga quickly says his goodbye and runs out the door, his dumbbells doing nothing to hinder his pace. 

you turn back at him, who was now glaring at the door before his green eyes turn to look at you. 

“really?” you asked, arms crossing against your chest. kiryu steps closer to you and his nose scrunches. you smelled too much like taiga, how long was he squatting you.

“tsuge-chan was being too comfy with you.” 

“well, he was being respectful the entire time so there was no problem.” you clarified and kiryu only pouts. 

“plus,” you continued. “i wanted to see if taiga was really strong and the rumors are true!” you gush and kiryu feels his brow twitch with jealousy. 

“he carried me like it was nothing!” the next thing you knew, your usually gentle and graceful boyfriend lifted you into his arms as if you weighed nothing and squatted you thrice. 

“if you wanted to be carried, you should’ve just told me, (y/n)-chan!” kiryu smiles and pecks your cheek. “no need to praise tsuge-chan like that.” 

“mitsuki, are you jealous?” “you’re being ridiculous, (y/n)-chan”

he definitely was.

note/s: i have no idea why kiryu's was so long... i blacked out and it just happened..

in which: you need to make it to liyue harbour in time so you can give kazuha a piece of your mind and a response to his love letter.

cw: fluff, 1.3k words, not too sure how canon accurate this is, potentially ooc-kazuha, gn!reader from inazuma, confessions, two wholesome idiots in love

a/n: for my little sibling @sixosix, i hope you enjoy

Liyue, out of all regions in Teyvat, is the hardest to run through.

It’s mountainous, your muscles will ache from going uphill, your ankles will be sore the next day from going too fast downhill. It’s grassy, the gravel is rough against the soles of your feet, and there is an abundance of hillichurls and samachurls waiting for you with their clubs and shields. Yet, they provide more motivation for you to outrun them, speeding right by their camps to get to Liyue Harbour in time.

Stupid Kaedehara Kazuha, when you see him, he’s in for an earful from you. Making you run from Lingju Pass all the way back to the Harbour, doesn’t he know how much you despise running for long periods of time?

A break is not plausible, especially when Beidou’s boat could leave the dock at any minute now.

When Liyue’s bustling harbour is in sight, it’s vast oceans appearing out the horizon, you feel like you can breathe. The sunlight glimmering on the ocean cheers you on, and you won’t stop until the waves are underneath your feet, the only thing separating you from them being wooden planks. 

You push through crowds, too tired and determined to be polite and apologetic to shoppers you push aside. You run past Mingxing Jewelry, Wanmin Restaurant, and Master Zhang’s workshop, and don’t stop until you, yourself, are climbing onto the Crux. Crew members are shouting in protest at your sudden appearance, yelling at your unexplained entrance.

There are people trying to pull you off the boat, and you don’t really know where the strength to push off burly sailors came from, but you successfully fend off all of them, and find Beidou at the bow of the ship. 

“Where is Kazuha?” You demand, decorum be screwed, nothing can stop your momentum now. 

Her uncovered eye lights up in amusement, a hint of knowing behind her crimson gaze. “Right behind you.” 

Lo and behold, the beige-haired in question was right behind you. “Uh, hello?”

“I have a bone to pick with you, Kazuha!” Stomping over to him, he grabs your wrist before you have another chance to talk, dragging you away from the bow of the ship where all the crewmates were unloading their cargo. (Beidou’s thundering laughter can be heard as he’s dragging you away, at least she’s not mad at your sudden intrusion.)

He stops when the two of you are on the quarter deck and turns to look at you with panic all over his face.

“What did I do?” 

From your pocket, you pull out a piece of paper like it’s an incriminating piece of evidence, one that he’s stared at for too long, so much so that he can recall every dip and curve of the dry-pressed leaves he added on for a more personal touch. It has sat on his desk for ages, seen all of his turmoils and frustrations over delivering it to you. 

The paper contains a mix of poems, haikus, and different confessions Kazuha has been harbouring in his heart for the past few years, ever since the two of you left Inazuma. Your hand clutching his gloved one as the two of you hurry onto Beidou’s boat with nothing but your visions, weapons, and the clothes on your back.

He has loved you for this entire journey, and words could not surmise the depth of his feelings, let alone a measly piece of paper. Some days, it sees the sun when he dares it to, but it always ends up right back on his desk, waiting for the day that it will leave Kazuha’s possession and fall into yours.

This morning was the exact moment. He slipped it in your bag before you went on your expedition, the two of you meeting for a quiet breakfast before his eight-month long expedition, and your two-week one. He had waved you goodbye as far as he could go before leaving Liyue Harbour, even staying on the outskirts until your group left his sight.

Nothing could have prepared him for seeing you so soon, not after putting that letter in your backpack. 

“You’re a coward!” You accuse immediately, poking your finger to his chest. “A lousy coward!”

He takes it, knows that he should have just braved his fears and handed it to you in person, but the idea of being rejected on the spot causes his chest to ache in unbearable ways. The samurai rather you read it, then have eight months to prepare for your inevitable rejection.

Yet, he should have known that in the face of a storm, you are the only one brave enough to fight against the waves. Nothing ever goes the way he wants when it’s with you.

“You should probably sit down, Y/n, your legs are shaking and I’ll grab you some-”

Your hands fly up to grab the sleeves of his kimono, whether to stabilise yourself, or to stop him from leaving, or both, he stays. “Kaedehara Kazuha, I like you too,” you declare. “I just ran all the way from Lingju Pass, so I have nothing flowery nor sweet to say like your letter except that you are so very mean for making me come all this way.”

With one last heaved breath, you collapse to your knees. Kazuha, being the gentleman he is, freaks out and mimics your actions, clinging onto your shoulders.

“Y/n!” He calls out, his usually level voice breaching a panicked cry. “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself like this. Stay here, I’ll go grab water water.” 

Listening to the samurai, you rest against a nearby pillar, feeling the dull aches in all muscles of your legs. Archons, you’ll feel the pain tenfold tomorrow.

Kazuha returns not too long with a canteen in hand, and he twists it open before handing it to you. After a few beats of tense silence, he speaks up. 

“Honestly, I don’t really have anything to say either, I wasn’t expecting to see you for another eight months, and even then, I was expecting a rejection.” He admits sheepishly, a blush blooming along his cheeks. “Maybe an apology for making you run all this way just to see me is my first course of action.”

“Accept my confession first, jerk,” you punch his shoulder lightly, smiling up at him.

“I’ll accept anything so long as it’s from you, I thought I made that clear in my letter.”

“Don’t think you can charm your way into my good graces!” 

He thinks it’s adorable that you’re trying to maintain your cool mask despite your inability to look him in the eye, even if he’s hardly faring much better. The usual lyricism of his words have faded, and his quick mind can’t think of anything poetic to say, as if your confession has intercepted all the functions of his brain.

You like him back, you like him back, you like him back, and he doesn’t know what to do with that information except smile like an idiot.

“Are you still going on your expedition?” asks Kazuha. “Your group must be waiting for you.”

“I told them not to, dumped my rations and things with them and told them they could use it. I’m not running all the way back now.”

“Then, does that mean you can join us?” 

“I don’t want to intrude, and I don’t know if you have enough things on board for another-”

“-I’m sure Beidou and the crew wouldn’t mind. There are always extra rations, you can have some of mine if it gets to it, and our first stop is at sunset, so we could go and grab some clothes for you to bring along!” He quickly suggests, hope shining brightly in those crimson eyes of his, as if pleading for you to say yes.

The wind blows gently through his beige strands, and the moment feels enchantingly similar to one you had read in an Inazuman poem. Then again, Kazuha always had that effect; the ability to slow time and let you see the world through a different, prettier lens, even if the consequences were completely dire.

You want to continue seeing through his lens, exactly the way you did when both of you fled Inazuma and the Vision hunt Decree. And you want to see the rest of Teyvat the way he does. 

“Okay.” You agree, “I’ll come along.”

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.