sweet-n-s4lty

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*we all whoop and cheer*

and may this year be filled with *looks down at notes* nanami kento??

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I DON’T WANT SMUT I WANT FLUFF OR SOME GOOD ASS ANGST GOD DAMN IT

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HUZZAH?!

1/3 through csm instead of starting hq s4...

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im gonna cry aghhhh, this was so good?!

OMG! congrats on the followers milestone!!! can i do option 1 please? i can see ur nanami's wife haha so i'd love to see something about like, post-shibuya nanami angst...

it's going to be okay (but it's going to be different) ༺ nanami kento

↬ masterlist

wc : 2.6K

content : oneshot. post-shibuya nanami angst, hurt/comfort. you find out what happened to your fiance.

note : i'm literally his wife

“shoko.” 

the brown-haired woman comes to a slow halt in the hallway ahead of you but doesn’t deign to turn around. you’re certain she’s aware of what you’re about to say; you can’t blame her for not being able to meet your eyes.

“i’ve known you for nearly my entire life. i know when you’re lying to me.”

shoko’s shoulders slump, and you feel a pang of sympathy for the weight she's had to bear throughout these long years.

“i am.”

you give a small smile, though she cannot see it. “so…?” your voice breaks slightly, and you inhale deeply to get yourself back in control.

“is he… alive?”

at your words, shoko turns and rapidly closes the distance between you, steadying your trembling body with her hands on your shoulders. “of course he is. i wouldn’t lie to you about that. never.”

she makes no attempt to conceal the hurt in her voice; you'd regret thinking so unjustly of her if you were able to feel anything at all.

“he’s alive - he’s healing. he just…”

“shoko, please,” you beg, the last of your restraint falling away from you. tears of exhaustion blur your eyes. “i don’t care what’s happened to him - if he’s lost a limb, if he’s blind, if he won’t be able to walk - i need to know. it’s been nearly three weeks - i need to see him. i need to talk to him—”

“he doesn’t want to see you.” 

her compassionate tone does nothing to alleviate the harshness of the words, laid bleak and bare before you. you reel and accidentally tear yourself from shoko’s clasp. she makes no attempt to take you back, instead attempting to dredge up a saddened smile.

“i’ve tried talking to him, but i don’t know if he’s all there. there was no physical trauma to his head but he’s retreated so far inside himself… he’s barely spoken a word, even though his throat and vocal cords are undamaged. he’s a completely different person. i wanted to tell you earlier, but…”

shoko trails off as you pale further, trembling helplessly. she swiftly takes you into a tight embrace, holding you together as you fall apart. for a moment your combined grief thunders through you both like a tidal wave has crested and crashed through the hallway, threatening to sweep you away.

“he’s been broken, y/n,” shoko rasps.

“as if any of us were ever whole,” you retort, but there’s no strength behind your words.

after some time you pull away, clearing your throat. shoko takes your hands in hers, looking more tired than you’ve ever seen her.

“maybe you can still—”

“no,” you cut in. “i - i don’t think i will. if he doesn’t want me there - if he doesn’t want me at all—”

“it’s not like that. i think he’s… ashamed. insecure.”

“kento? insecure?” the words come out before you can stop them. your fiance has been self conscious at times, but never insecure. then again, you suppose the horrors of what happened in shibuya would change anyone.

“does he think i’d reject him, if he looks any different to how he was before? what kind of person does he take me for? how can he doubt the nature of my love, and reduce it to something so superficial?” your voice rises.

“i can’t speak for him, y/n. that’s something you need to talk about with him, yourself—”

“and how am i to do that if he will not see me?” you break in bitterly.

shoko continues calmly, as if you never spoke. “—but i know, and you know, that he’s the type to think of himself as now unworthy of your love, now that he’s… damaged.”

“damaged. and you still have not told me how.” 

you know shoko doesn’t deserve to bear the brunt of your anger, but you’ve spent two weeks at the edge of insanity, and slowly, you believe you can nearly feel yourself starting to tip.

“maybe you should see for yourself.”

“you just said he will not see me.”

“he’s most likely asleep, now.”

“and… you wouldn’t tell him i was there?”

shoko gives you a tight smile. “if i can lie for him, i can most certainly lie for you.”

it's hardly a comfort, but you take it.

what else can you do? __

the outline of his body rises and falls with each breath he takes in his deep sleep. you can nearly imagine the slow rhythm of his heart - how often have you rested your head against your chest, and memorised its pattern?

you take small steps towards him, hesitant, as shoko closes the door behind you, leaving you alone with your lover. the trepidation that rises in you is foreign; never before has being in his presence unsettled you like this. but circumstances are different, now.

everything is different.

you fear what you will find when you reach him, staring at the curve of his back. the blankets of the hospital bed are pulled up, leaving only his head exposed, and there’s nothing visibly wrong with him that you can see. but those white sheets can hide a lot. you must walk around to his other side, to his face, to properly assess the damage.

but you find that you don’t want to.

it’s not that you fear what you might see would mar your love for him. nanami kento has, and always will be, your soulmate - the very oxygen you breathe. no… you fear to see that which has made him fear you so. what could possibly be so horrific that it has driven a wedge between you?

with slow, dread-filled steps, you round the bed to the other side, your gaze averted until you stand in front of his face. you exhale slowly, deeply, then look into your fiance’s face.

he’s as beautiful as the day you first saw him.

his face is the same, exactly how you’ve come to learn and love it, the curve of his cheek and jut of his jaw and slope of his nose all angles you’ve memorised in the dark, under the stars, bathed with sunlight.

he’s okay.

you don’t realise you’ve let out a strained gasp of relief until it’s too late. your hand flies retroactively to your mouth, as if it could snatch the sound from the air, as if it could reverse time and stop kento’s hazel eyes - well, the single eye you can see - from opening and staring into your own.

a moment of absolute stillnes; a silence thick and deep and prickly. the weight of betrayal in that single moment is so acute that you nearly stumble backwards. his gaze bores into you like an open wound, bleeding out his hurt. you’re certain that nothing could possibly be worse than this - until his eyelids fall shut and he turns his face into the pillow, essentially ignoring you.

“hey,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice light. “don’t hide from me.”

“why are you here?”

his voice is raspy and faint, and he has to repeat himself before you can discern the shape of his words. there’s no accusation in his tone, but rather a type of fatigue that extends beyond mere weariness.

“kento - i don’t understand… why didn’t you let me know you were okay? why did you push me away? i mean, you look—” fine, you’re about to say, but the word is caught in your throat as he wordlessly heaves himself upright, the blankets falling away from his bare shoulders as he sits against the headboard to reveal what you were unable to see before.

“oh, god…”

his entire left side has been fully burnt, separating his body in half in a manner so neat it feels entirely unnatural. much of it is a raw pink as it slowly heals; but in other places where the fire reached deeper, he’s had to have skin grafts - explaining the scars on his otherwise unscathed right side.

and he’s missing an eye. his left socket is dark and empty, and slightly out of shape.

“i can’t apologise for keeping you in the dark; i had good reason.” his hand hovers for a moment over his missing eye, as if trying to hide the horror of the gaping hole from you, before he gives up and drops it into his lap.

“kento—”

“i had intended to wait until i’d healed further, but i suppose you visiting me now simply means we’ll have to have this conversation earlier than expected.”

he tilts his head back to rest against the headboard and looks unerringly ahead. “i know we had a relationship - i know we had plans. but objectively, i’m a damaged man.”

“we have a relationship. nothing’s changed. i love you.”

he doesn’t respond.

“kento, i’m not asking for us to be the same.” you close the space and drop onto the bed in front of him, attempting to force his gaze towards you.

“i just… don’t even think of breaking up with me, because i’m not going to let that happen.”

“you’re not understanding.”

“help me understand, then. please?”

“i’m missing an eye. that alone would be enough cause for difficulty, but i also have the burns of my body to deal with.”

“but you’re healing.”

“some damage cannot be fixed; it’s too deep. my body is strained, and parts of it are stiff. rigid. if i manage to walk, it is only with much difficulty; i will at the very least require a cane.”

the dull steadiness of his voice breaks at his last words; his adam’s apple bobs as he tries to swallow down the sudden rise of emotion.

“i can’t be a husband to you, y/n. we can’t be the same. i won’t be able to provide for you; i’ll never be able to fight again.”

“good,” you lash, so savagely that he jerks his head back up to look at you. “you won’t be in danger again. i have a well-paying office job, and i'm a Window; we’ll be fine. i won’t have to wait at the door and imagine how much blood you’ll be covered in when you walk through it, and how much of it is your own. i won’t have to hunch over my phone in the deadest hours of the night, waiting for a text from you to assure me you’re alive.”

“i never asked you—”

“you didn’t, but that’s how it is. people worry about the things they love. about the people they love.”

“how could you love me when i look like this?” he scrapes out.

“kento,” you whisper. “do you really think my love is so shallow as that?” 

“no. but i’m also being realistic. because every time i catch a glimpse of myself… it's repulsive - i'm repulsive. objectively. and i'm not saying this with any self pity or vanity, but there's no point denying that i'm not the man i used to be—”

“so it won't be the same between us? we'll never go back to how we were? you're right. we won't.”

you shift forward on the bed until your knees touch the side of his leg, closing the distance between you.

“and you know what? that’s okay. all that’s happened is you just have different needs now - a bit more support in some areas, a bit less in others. we’ll figure it out together. isn’t that what we did when i got my autism diagnosis?”

“see, but that’s…”

“kento. i know it's different, but...” you don’t know how to say it, how to verbalise any of it, but you try. “you know - at first i loved you with admiration, and then infatuation, with all the passion of youth. it was the novelty of it all, the freshness; the exhiliration of there being so much to know about each other, so much to experience together. but now it's the familiarity that gives me comfort. i know your scent, i know the shape of your body, i know the way you take your tea. i know how to kiss you until your knees are weak. and at some point in the future - or maybe slowly, gradually - it’s going to change again.”

you exhale, reaching out to take his hand in both your own, brushing your thumb over his knuckles, and he lets you.

“i guess what i’m trying to say is, neither of us are the exact same people we each fell in love with. time and circumstances have changed us. but we’re still here, aren’t we? we’ve survived everything that life’s thrown at us so far. this is just another thing we’re going to get through.”

his hazel eyes are fixed on yours, now, quietly imploring - drinking you in like he’ll never see you again, or perhaps like he’s just seen you for the first time. “are you sure?”

“of course i’m sure.”

“still, if you’ve changed your mind - if you don’t want to marry me…” he trails off at the look on your face. “never mind.”

“that’s right.”

you move forward, and his arms automatically come around you to pull you closer. you sit in silence for a while, head pressed against the beat of his heart, your face on the jagged line between his burnt and undamaged halves.

“i’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “for keeping you out. i can’t imagine - i know if the roles were reversed—”

“you would’ve broken down the door.”

“i would’ve,” he agrees. “but for what it’s worth, i’m sorry. i guess i was feeling insecure, if that’s the word, but i was childish and... disrespectful. to even think that about you - that you'd react in any way other than you just did."

“i understand. kento?”

“hm?”

you lift your face, rest your forehead on his. “you’re still beautiful, you know that?”

“oh? is that so?”

“it’s like you’ve been carved out of marble. you’re perfect.”

“i don’t feel very perfect right now.” his hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. it’s with a flash of his usual humour that he murmurs, “perhaps i’ll need some convincing.”

and when you kiss him it’s clear that the passion between you, at least, has not changed. it’s not fierce or heated; it’s tender enough to make him cry. but you brush away his tears with the pad of your thumb and press butterfly kisses to his empty eyelid, and the side of his ruined face, and his healing shoulder. you kiss every damaged part of him. you kiss all of his scars.

this time, when you say “i love you”, he says it back.

shoko walks in on u making out instead of fighting and is simultaneously relieved and Not Amused.

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real tbh

need to redo my blog but im also So Done

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Happy birthday to me (•̀ᴗ•́)و

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i lwk forgot i'm in the middle of a story...

I'll try storyboard the 3rd chapter and then maybe write it :3

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This is saur cute omg

Call it what you want !

I can definitely see Ino wearing a necklace with your initial on it,

and he wouldn’t do it in a possessive way (well, maybeee juuust a littleee), but mostly because he wants to keep you as close as he can!! Because, duh! You’re his partner, his most precious person!!

When he's away on missions, he kisses it like a lucky charm—because to him, that’s exactly what it is! You’re his lucky charm, even if you’re not with him, at least not physically<3

And every time he touches it, he smiles, and it feels like a promise that he'll come back to you, like he always does! The chain around his neck is like a reminder to him that you're waiting patiently for his return—your initial engraved in metal, so close to his heart..!!

a/n: I hope the Ino girlies like this, because the lack of content this boy has (in comparison with other characters !!).. I love him, I just can't- 😕 And I hope I did him justice, because I'm not good with personalities.. but this is just a headcanon!!

English is not my first language btw!! If there's any mistake, I would be very grateful if you can tell me where<33

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retweet

i really miss aki hayakawa

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Lmao logging off for a bit to go explore space or sumn.

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i want a pizza. someone get me a pizza

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Finding spelling mistakes while rereading your already published work is so humbling

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Cupid & The Crown: Chapter the Second

ꪆৎ ˚⋅Yuji Itadori x reader -> Fluff + Royal AU Content Warnings: None 1.7k words. ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩

It had been exactly 46 hours and 23 minutes since Yuji was assigned your knight, and it has been 46 hours and 23 minutes since you had known peace. The boy had the usual squire expression about him, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He lacked the dull boredom that the knights you knew held. You couldn’t tell if you should feel sorry for him or not. 

You were returning from the library to the kitchen to snag a snack or two to enjoy while reading. Yuji was hot on your tail, merely a few paces behind you, exactly how he was always following you everywhere you went, as per your father’s orders. Currently, he was trailing behind you, acting as your personal servant rather than a knight. He cradled large, heavy books you had borrowed from the royal library. Many had yellowed pages, and the once ivory sheets had tinted into a rustic beige with both time and use; the pages lay stacked in a rippled motion. Your arms wobbled with the sheer weight of the stacks, requiring a few trips back and forth depending on where you needed to take them. You supposed his strength had earned him a few brownie points in your book.

“Princess, what exactly are you gonna do with all these?”

“Read.” He felt sheepish. Maybe that was a dumb question on his end, he thought, scolding himself mentally.

“Oh.” You wanted to laugh. Despite the couple of days you’d known him, you recognised him as a puppy more than anything else—an annoying, sickeningly sweet puppy. 

His face morphed into a look of pure boyish glee at praises you sent his way, even if it was in passing. Upon actually having gotten to know the boy, you quickly found yourself coming to terms with the fact your original hate wasn't hate per se, simply an outburst fueled by jealousy. He had his moments of course. Moments where you enjoyed his company, moments where small doses of his endearing nature had you laughing or cracking jokes with him. Despite your standoffish attitude with him, he wasn’t unlikeable… and although you’d rather throw yourself into moving traffic than admit it— he was okay at times.  

His boots against the rugged hallway floors served as a constant reminder of your father’s orders and the presence you’d now have to grow used to, trudging behind, only a few paces after you. 

Yuji lacked the stern visage the other soldiers you were used to had. Even the younger recruits were sombre in nature. But not Yuji. No, he wore his earnestness as a badge, his heart seemingly on his sleeve regarding his duties as a makeshift medal. It was endearing, his earnestness you meant. 

You felt your face practically strafed by the warmth and cinnamon scent of the kitchen. You smiled at the few chefs and maids hustling to and fro, each one that left being replaced by the ones who came in with equal scrambles in their steps, hurried “Afternoon, Your Highness.” spoken in hurried mutters, all of which faced with a smile of your own. The kitchen held an abundance of tarts, all of which were too much for your father’s appetite, so a few you tucked away in a napkin. His dentist would thank you for it, you were sure. 

Your eyes caught Yuji’s as he stood awkwardly at the door, neck craning and head peeking from the stack of books he cradled in his arms. You felt a strange pang of guilt, and maybe it was because he was so kind to you despite your aloofness, but you wrapped just one more tart away in a napkin, tucking it away in your dress pocket before waltzing out, head tilting in the direction you were going, inviting him to follow.

The weather was nary too cold or too windy, except for reading. You perched yourself on the rim of the fountain that lay graciously in the gardens, patting the seat next to you, more for Yuji to place the pile of books you were itching to sink your brain teeth into, instead, the soft clang of armour against stone had you looking up from the tarts on your lap to find him sat right next to you, arms lazily on his thighs, books placed— to your horror— on the cold stone below, damp from previous rainfall. You let out an offended gasp, looking between him and the books before placing the tarts on their nakin, next to your thigh and standing promptly to pick them up. He started helping after a second, realising that maybe he shouldn't have done that. “Are they not supposed to be on the floor?!” He rambled as he struggled to pick them all up as quickly as she was. 

“Not when it's damp!” He placed half of it on the stone you were both previously seated on seconds before, the pile messy and unstable. As he picked up the others, the heavy splash you both heard had your eyes wide and his face drained of colour.

…Soaked. That’s what they were. Soaked and ruined and you’d never be able to fix them. You sighed in slight relief upon realising none of the limited editions had fallen in, only some literature books you were eager to reread. There were annotations left however that you'd miss, annotations left by your English tutor, and annotations that held so many perspectives you never got to analyse fully. Bummer but maybe not a total disaster. “I am so so so so sorry!” He apologised frantically, arms waving around in slight defence. His lips were downturned into a frown, thick eyebrows warped into apologetic bearing. “I’ll— “I’ll replace them, no matter how much they cost,” He stammered.

“With what money?” You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms. In all honesty, you weren’t angry at all, maybe disappointed, but you recognised a mistake when you saw one. 

“I—”

“I’ll have to stop you right there,” you said, holding your hand up to his face. You took a moment to recognise the way his shoulders slumped and his gaze averted yours, mousy brown darting around the scene rather than looking at you. “I’m not angry, nor did I ask you to repay me.”

“You aren't angry?” You shook your head, restacking the currently safe books and placing them in a steady, stable assemblage before re-seating yourself and flipping open a rather thick book. You flipped through the pages and picked up your tart after a while. The air was quiet, silent even if you disregarded the insubstantial chirping of mockingbirds and airy whistles of the crisp autumn gales. 

You frowned, however, the minute you felt two holes searing into the side of your head.

Ignored.

A minute later, you felt the boy next to you leaning over your shoulder, eyes similarly tracing over the words, hardly understanding anything, but finding contentment in simply being included (despite being uninvited).

Ignored yet again.

“Did you want something?” You finally asked, an exasperated countenance trailing your face after you were pulled out of the pages with the ‘clank’ of his armour once again. He shook his head, a sheepish pink hue brushing over his cheeks and ears. 

“...No.” 

“You sure?” You felt a small smile itching to curl the ends of your lips as he shook his head, head hung, eye curiously peeking up from time to time. He was entertaining, you found yourself thinking.

You closed the book, placing it next to you and folding away your napkin, the cloth now dusted with golden crumbs that remained. Your hands smoothed over the lap of your dress and you looked up at him. “Say…you don’t feel out of place?” 

He sat up, looking at you curiously. “Uhm, I’m not quite sure I understand?”

“Well you were knighted and so far all of you’ve been doing is carrying books and on the off moment you’ve “defended” me from something it was from a tiny knot of hair I thought was a spider,” He huffed out a laugh, reminiscing the earlier morning when you shrieked like a banshee all from a tuft of stray hair the previous morning. “I’m sure this isn't what you were expecting.”

“It isn’t so bad, my job is to serve you, yes?”

“Correct.”

“So I’m just doing the job I swore I’d do.” His donnish nature with words made it increasingly harder to hold a grudge against him. “Even if it means being diminished to…carrying books.”

A snort escaped your lips. “And you do it well, I must say.”

“Really?!” He beamed, head snapping around to face you, almost like a child basking in adolescent praise. 

“Don’t get used to it.” You chuckled softly, reaching into your pocket and giving him the tart you’d snagged on his behalf. 

“For me?” He pointed to himself, hand gloved in sheets of lustrous grey. He slipped it off and graciously took it in his hands with a quick ‘thank you’ and smile of gratitude. He took a bite and nodded in contentment, the sugary treat seemingly playing into his palette. “I promise I’ll do my best, even if this job is a little more boring than I initially thought…”

“What, did you think you’d be slaying dragons and fighting bandits?”

“Would you laugh at me if I said ‘yes’?”

You thought for a second before nodding, a chiding smirk already playing on your lips. “I can guarantee it.”

“Then please target I said anything, Princess.” You let out another laugh, cracking up a little.

“My father is paranoid, I don’t think I’ll need a big strong guy to protect me anytime soon, I’m more focused on not suffocating in these damn walls.”

He hummed in thought, nodding along as he bit into the pastry, the soft red of the jam smearing on his upper lip before he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. “I think I can do that too, I’m like an all-in-one package!” He beamed, boyish grin plastered on his face.

“Even if you are, don’t expect me to call you ‘Sire Yuji’ anytime soon.”

“Not even after my outstanding show of skill?!”

“Not even after your outstanding show of skill, I fear.”

Tbh, I think I did well on this chapter, wasn't sure abt it at first lmao.

Taglist: @stillnotherapy

©Sweet-n-salty -> MINE!!

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Cupid & The Crown: Contents.

In which Princess {Name}, to her dismay, is to be guarded by Yuji Itadori, a newly knighted squire who seems to be on the wrong page in her books.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ Royal AU - Princess!Reader x Knight!Yuji Reader is fem + afab (tho not mentioned, was written with said intention in mind), if this isn't your cup of tea, please do scroll, or maybe try to find a post of mine you like, thank you :)

ᥫ᭡ Chapter The First.

ᥫ᭡ Chapter The Second.

ᥫ᭡ Chapter the Third.

...Loading!

౨ৎ WARNINGS/TAGS: SFW Project, Maybe mentions of violence, Set in a royal au so some old ideals may be revisited sill mapping everything out lwk (eg; burning people at stakes etc), awkward teens navigating feeling; may piss you off tbh, no correlation to the jjk plot (me thinks), there won't be uses of 'y/n' purely because tt comments lwk aggravate me :3

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- Hibz (Thee goat tbh)

- 18

Please be respectful on my page :3

m.list

Intro post

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need to redo my m.list + intro post tbh, i have a lot to do

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Cupid & The Crown: Chapter the Second

ꪆৎ ˚⋅Yuji Itadori x reader -> Fluff + Royal AU Content Warnings: None 1.7k words. ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩

It had been exactly 46 hours and 23 minutes since Yuji was assigned your knight, and it has been 46 hours and 23 minutes since you had known peace. The boy had the usual squire expression about him, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He lacked the dull boredom that the knights you knew held. You couldn’t tell if you should feel sorry for him or not. 

You were returning from the library to the kitchen to snag a snack or two to enjoy while reading. Yuji was hot on your tail, merely a few paces behind you, exactly how he was always following you everywhere you went, as per your father’s orders. Currently, he was trailing behind you, acting as your personal servant rather than a knight. He cradled large, heavy books you had borrowed from the royal library. Many had yellowed pages, and the once ivory sheets had tinted into a rustic beige with both time and use; the pages lay stacked in a rippled motion. Your arms wobbled with the sheer weight of the stacks, requiring a few trips back and forth depending on where you needed to take them. You supposed his strength had earned him a few brownie points in your book.

“Princess, what exactly are you gonna do with all these?”

“Read.” He felt sheepish. Maybe that was a dumb question on his end, he thought, scolding himself mentally.

“Oh.” You wanted to laugh. Despite the couple of days you’d known him, you recognised him as a puppy more than anything else—an annoying, sickeningly sweet puppy. 

His face morphed into a look of pure boyish glee at praises you sent his way, even if it was in passing. Upon actually having gotten to know the boy, you quickly found yourself coming to terms with the fact your original hate wasn't hate per se, simply an outburst fueled by jealousy. He had his moments of course. Moments where you enjoyed his company, moments where small doses of his endearing nature had you laughing or cracking jokes with him. Despite your standoffish attitude with him, he wasn’t unlikeable… and although you’d rather throw yourself into moving traffic than admit it— he was okay at times.  

His boots against the rugged hallway floors served as a constant reminder of your father’s orders and the presence you’d now have to grow used to, trudging behind, only a few paces after you. 

Yuji lacked the stern visage the other soldiers you were used to had. Even the younger recruits were sombre in nature. But not Yuji. No, he wore his earnestness as a badge, his heart seemingly on his sleeve regarding his duties as a makeshift medal. It was endearing, his earnestness you meant. 

You felt your face practically strafed by the warmth and cinnamon scent of the kitchen. You smiled at the few chefs and maids hustling to and fro, each one that left being replaced by the ones who came in with equal scrambles in their steps, hurried “Afternoon, Your Highness.” spoken in hurried mutters, all of which faced with a smile of your own. The kitchen held an abundance of tarts, all of which were too much for your father’s appetite, so a few you tucked away in a napkin. His dentist would thank you for it, you were sure. 

Your eyes caught Yuji’s as he stood awkwardly at the door, neck craning and head peeking from the stack of books he cradled in his arms. You felt a strange pang of guilt, and maybe it was because he was so kind to you despite your aloofness, but you wrapped just one more tart away in a napkin, tucking it away in your dress pocket before waltzing out, head tilting in the direction you were going, inviting him to follow.

The weather was nary too cold or too windy, except for reading. You perched yourself on the rim of the fountain that lay graciously in the gardens, patting the seat next to you, more for Yuji to place the pile of books you were itching to sink your brain teeth into, instead, the soft clang of armour against stone had you looking up from the tarts on your lap to find him sat right next to you, arms lazily on his thighs, books placed— to your horror— on the cold stone below, damp from previous rainfall. You let out an offended gasp, looking between him and the books before placing the tarts on their nakin, next to your thigh and standing promptly to pick them up. He started helping after a second, realising that maybe he shouldn't have done that. “Are they not supposed to be on the floor?!” He rambled as he struggled to pick them all up as quickly as she was. 

“Not when it's damp!” He placed half of it on the stone you were both previously seated on seconds before, the pile messy and unstable. As he picked up the others, the heavy splash you both heard had your eyes wide and his face drained of colour.

…Soaked. That’s what they were. Soaked and ruined and you’d never be able to fix them. You sighed in slight relief upon realising none of the limited editions had fallen in, only some literature books you were eager to reread. There were annotations left however that you'd miss, annotations left by your English tutor, and annotations that held so many perspectives you never got to analyse fully. Bummer but maybe not a total disaster. “I am so so so so sorry!” He apologised frantically, arms waving around in slight defence. His lips were downturned into a frown, thick eyebrows warped into apologetic bearing. “I’ll— “I’ll replace them, no matter how much they cost,” He stammered.

“With what money?” You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms. In all honesty, you weren’t angry at all, maybe disappointed, but you recognised a mistake when you saw one. 

“I—”

“I’ll have to stop you right there,” you said, holding your hand up to his face. You took a moment to recognise the way his shoulders slumped and his gaze averted yours, mousy brown darting around the scene rather than looking at you. “I’m not angry, nor did I ask you to repay me.”

“You aren't angry?” You shook your head, restacking the currently safe books and placing them in a steady, stable assemblage before re-seating yourself and flipping open a rather thick book. You flipped through the pages and picked up your tart after a while. The air was quiet, silent even if you disregarded the insubstantial chirping of mockingbirds and airy whistles of the crisp autumn gales. 

You frowned, however, the minute you felt two holes searing into the side of your head.

Ignored.

A minute later, you felt the boy next to you leaning over your shoulder, eyes similarly tracing over the words, hardly understanding anything, but finding contentment in simply being included (despite being uninvited).

Ignored yet again.

“Did you want something?” You finally asked, an exasperated countenance trailing your face after you were pulled out of the pages with the ‘clank’ of his armour once again. He shook his head, a sheepish pink hue brushing over his cheeks and ears. 

“...No.” 

“You sure?” You felt a small smile itching to curl the ends of your lips as he shook his head, head hung, eye curiously peeking up from time to time. He was entertaining, you found yourself thinking.

You closed the book, placing it next to you and folding away your napkin, the cloth now dusted with golden crumbs that remained. Your hands smoothed over the lap of your dress and you looked up at him. “Say…you don’t feel out of place?” 

He sat up, looking at you curiously. “Uhm, I’m not quite sure I understand?”

“Well you were knighted and so far all of you’ve been doing is carrying books and on the off moment you’ve “defended” me from something it was from a tiny knot of hair I thought was a spider,” He huffed out a laugh, reminiscing the earlier morning when you shrieked like a banshee all from a tuft of stray hair the previous morning. “I’m sure this isn't what you were expecting.”

“It isn’t so bad, my job is to serve you, yes?”

“Correct.”

“So I’m just doing the job I swore I’d do.” His donnish nature with words made it increasingly harder to hold a grudge against him. “Even if it means being diminished to…carrying books.”

A snort escaped your lips. “And you do it well, I must say.”

“Really?!” He beamed, head snapping around to face you, almost like a child basking in adolescent praise. 

“Don’t get used to it.” You chuckled softly, reaching into your pocket and giving him the tart you’d snagged on his behalf. 

“For me?” He pointed to himself, hand gloved in sheets of lustrous grey. He slipped it off and graciously took it in his hands with a quick ‘thank you’ and smile of gratitude. He took a bite and nodded in contentment, the sugary treat seemingly playing into his palette. “I promise I’ll do my best, even if this job is a little more boring than I initially thought…”

“What, did you think you’d be slaying dragons and fighting bandits?”

“Would you laugh at me if I said ‘yes’?”

You thought for a second before nodding, a chiding smirk already playing on your lips. “I can guarantee it.”

“Then please target I said anything, Princess.” You let out another laugh, cracking up a little.

“My father is paranoid, I don’t think I’ll need a big strong guy to protect me anytime soon, I’m more focused on not suffocating in these damn walls.”

He hummed in thought, nodding along as he bit into the pastry, the soft red of the jam smearing on his upper lip before he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. “I think I can do that too, I’m like an all-in-one package!” He beamed, boyish grin plastered on his face.

“Even if you are, don’t expect me to call you ‘Sire Yuji’ anytime soon.”

“Not even after my outstanding show of skill?!”

“Not even after your outstanding show of skill, I fear.”

Tbh, I think I did well on this chapter, wasn't sure abt it at first lmao.

Taglist: @stillnotherapy

©Sweet-n-salty -> MINE!!