It happened on a weekend— One of those sleepy, golden Saturdays where time forgot to move fast.

Himawari had texted you in the morning with a “Hey wanna hang out? 💙 My mom’s making curry later!” You were at her door twenty minutes later, pretending you hadn’t sprinted like your life depended on it.

Her place was cozy. Warm smells drifted from the kitchen—Hinata humming a soft tune while cutting carrots. And you? You and Himawari were already tangled up on her living room rug, Switches out, playing co-op on Monster Hunt: Neo Eclipse. (Her favorite.)

You’d both started sitting next to each other. That lasted about five minutes.

“I can’t see the map unless I’m closer,” she said sweetly. Then she turned, grinning innocently—and plopped right onto your lap.

Boom. All motor functions: gone. Your soul probably ascended temporarily.

“Is this okay?” she asked, twisting just enough to look at you with those shimmering bluebell eyes.

“Y-Yep. All good. No problem,” you croaked. You’d never been less okay in your life.

She giggled—soft and mischievous. Her thick thighs settled on either side of your legs, her back resting against your chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Which it absolutely wasn’t. Because Himawari. Was on. Your lap.

And she kept. Wiggling.

“Sorry,” she whispered after adjusting for the fifth time. “I just get squirmy when the game’s intense.”

Her hips shifted again, and you very nearly lost the will to live—or at least the will to stay sane.