#coincidentally I also got this skin from my your shop

[kivino]

CLOSER || SLASHER!SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X M!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~2.9k

Tags/Warnings – very much dead dove do not eat, dealing with dark topics, stalking, unhealthy obsession, kidnapping.

Summary – You hear various dark rumors from your colleagues and you don’t believe them, until there is one particular ghost looking you right in the eye.

A/n – Fair warning, I am not trying to romanticize all those things. Requested by the anon from this post. Not proofread, so i'm very sorry if there are any mistakes.

At first, you didn’t believe all the rumors about ghosts, ghouls, and serial killers scouring every corner of the town in the dark, scratching the brick walls and howling in the tight alleyways. Your coworkers who usually talked about that kind of stuff appeared like gossiping teenagers exchanging something they heard or saw. Whispering on their breaks over lunch, or in those hours when business in the little coffee shop you worked in was slow. 

You thought their talks about some boogeyman hunting on the streets for new victims each night were silly at their best, and just distracting at their worst. You, coincidentally, were also usually the one working night shifts, taking over them after your female coworkers kept complaining about some creep waiting around until the end of the shift and scaring the crap out of them. 

So, how could you not help your colleagues out in a dire situation like this? Those shifts paid more anyway, and you needed all the money you could get. And, to be completely honest, you enjoyed the night. The lack of annoying customers, who’d scream at you for getting their order wrong, not smiling or some other stupid bullshit (whatever it takes to get that glossy paper with the words “20% off”, right?) died down by the night, so it was a breeze. Of course, you’d have to clean up and prep so much stuff for the morning shift, but then again, it was better money. So you could do with stacking some cups and taking out the trash and so on. After closing, you’d walk out a bit tired, but still enjoying the fresh night air, that would knock out any insistent worry straight out of your mind. 

And oh, what a fool you were for that. 

Ghost wanted to laugh, really. It was very amusing to him when you’d bravely head out into the dark, back to your shitty rundown apartment complex, listening to your music in your silly little headphones and not paying enough attention. Not a fucking thought inside this handsome head sometimes. Just perfect. Ghost knew he liked you for a reason. Which, of course, your appearance wasn’t solely why he felt drawn to you like you were a damn magnet. 

At first, he didn’t even notice you. Out and about, searching for any potential victims. Which became harder and harder each time he got bored and finished off the last one – their names fading from his memory as soon as the ringing from their strained, ear-splitting screams died down to a complete silence. They were borderline shrieks of wild, trapped animals that rang in his mind endlessly, day and night, echoes waking him from his restless dreams and lulling him back to sleep. Eyes snapped from figure to figure – searching, looking like a hound dog for something, someone that could satiate his hunger for blood. 

Followed a potentially interesting target to a small, cozy-looking establishment. Tried to look around more, still not completely set on the decision to commit to them. But then he laid his eyes on you and felt that familiar buzz under his skin, the pleasant vibrations that spurred him on like a prized stallion during a race. His blood felt scorching hot in his own body, anticipation for the desired thrill of the hunt already boiling in his veins.  That’s who he needed.

The huge man would follow you home with light, silent footsteps, uncharacteristic for his burly form. He would observe you from the dark corners of the forest, from between trees bunched together in thick, impenetrable layers. Ghost would come in during different times of the day, but wouldn’t ask for you, in fear of drawing too much attention – your coworkers looked like the types to run their mouths for fun, so he figured they would snitch on him to you. And that would just spoil all the fun, wouldn’t it? But then Ghost started feeling something he never thought he would. The more his eyes went over your form, over and over, like fingers picking at a bloody scab, or a tongue grazing gums where the tooth is missing, the more Ghost felt that ache poke needles through his skin, then change and transform into unfamiliar shapes and forms. Prickling on his insides, thorns gashing and bleeding his heart dry, his mind reeling at the mere sight of you in this stupid uniform, or just going about your business, and not knowing what kind of predator was following close behind in the shadows.

He craved more than your blood, your skin, and your smell on his knife, pooling between his fingers and onto the dirty floor of the basement. Etching scarlet lines into your sole being, slicing, cutting, and handling you like he would a piece of precious wood for his woodcarving projects. Ghost’s mind would go rampant with various images of you being with him. Not a victim, but a companion. A worthy one at that. The one Ghost deserves, with your presences intertwining until you two could not be separated from one another, grown together so deeply that you’d find parts of yourselves in each other wherever you’d look.

The only wish Ghost had was to be consumed by you wholly. And to consume you was a natural outcome of that. You’ll come around eventually. One way or another.

The images of his previous trophies resurfaced like thin, melting ice from fresh lake water. Each and every single one of them was an animal. In their life and their death. Scared but swift rabbits. Talkative crows that liked shiny things. Rabid hyenas that bared their teeth at him in a taunting grin. Gorgeous pheasants with their gentle coos. All of them so different, yet same in their dullness and lack of something Ghost was searching for in his prey.

You though, you were special. That’s why Ghost didn’t want to kill you, oh no. He wanted to keep you. All to himself. Lock you up like a wild bird in a golden, intricate cage and hear you sing lullabies and arias for him, and only him. Not for your stupid friends. Not for your idiot classmates. And not for your lazy ass coworkers. Only for him. 

So naturally if he wanted this songbird to be his, he had to get to work. Simon was a man of his words and actions, but Ghost preferred to act, rather than talk. First things first – he had to prepare a “cage”. One where you won’t escape from. One that will keep you safe from any harm. But not from him. He’d never harm you, in a million years. Ghost had to rearrange a room in the basement for that. And while it took some time and care, his feelings only grew stronger, when he would move and carry around so much stuff he had piling up in that dusty room. Then he had to know your schedule by heart, to know when and where he’ll be able to finally get his hands on the beloved songbird. It turned out to be pretty easy, Ghost got it down in a week and everything was working out perfectly. Finally, he had to catch you. Which, he was working on right now.

He waited until the perfect moment came to strike, like a hunter he was. One chance, that’s all it is going to take. And you’ll be his. His gut stirred with anticipation and excitement, that familiar buzz intensifying with each second, he waited to finally start his pursuit while hiding in the darkness. If it was anyone else but you the chase would’ve been lethal. For you, he had to contain his strength. Balling his fists together, beaten and bloody under the rough fabric of his gloves, he could easily snap a neck or break some fingers with the sheer power contained inside of his body, trained and adapted into the perfect shape for his…line of work and “hobbies”. For your sake, Ghost will have to use less force, for once in a long time. You’re only worthy while you’re alive.

The whole shift you felt like something was wrong. That sudden gut feeling, along with impending doom and anxiety that ate away at you was overtaking slowly but surely. Every second ticking away on the digital clock near the register only stretched that unusual, weird feeling like something (you weren’t sure what) was going to happen to you. You even felt a bit of cold sweat pop up right on your forehead, and the worst thing is, you couldn’t even point out what exactly threw you off your usual rhythm. So, all you had left to do was try to pretend like there wasn’t a whole hurricane of worry and panic bubbling inside of you.

You felt like you could snap any minute now from how tense you were. Intuition wasn’t your best suit, but you could not ignore a gut feeling so strong that you felt like vomiting up your lunch each time you were left in silence, alone with your thoughts, that spun around a variety of outcomes where you ended up dead on the side of the road because you didn’t listen to that gnawing dread curled inside your gut.

And you should’ve, really.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have been in the position that you’re in right now. Your chest and throat hurt, cold air burning with every shallow and quick inhale, as you ran, as fast as you could, blood pulsing in your ears with increasing pressure. You were pretty sure your heart was about to jump out of your chest. If it wasn’t for your headphones running out of battery and you having to walk back without any music you wouldn’t have heard the quiet, rapidly approaching footsteps. You couldn’t see your pursuer, too focused on the road, or lack thereof in front of you.

Why did you think dipping into the dark grove at the first opportunity to lose the person who was following you was a good idea? Your feet stumbled over the thick roots that webbed the fresh, wet ground, moonlight barely managed to pierce through the thick layer of leaves overhead and it seemed like any animal in your close vicinity disappeared, with how eerily quiet everything was, safe for your heaving and wheezing, that easily gave away your position.

You’re scared, oh, you’re so fucking scared you could feel the way hairs all over your body stand up from the terror, unknown follower sparkling fear so primal your thoughts are reduced to barely a semblance of your usual self.

You could hear the crunch of the leaves under your shoes, vines, and branches smacking you, as you ram through them in your attempt to get away, to save yourself from whatever wild beast was chasing you, whose heavy breath you could almost feel on the nape of your neck. You were pretty sure your face got smacked by another thorny vine, this time delivering a harsh, stinging cut that made you wince. You didn’t slow down, however, adrenaline made you push yourself to surprising lengths, that you didn’t think were possible in a normal, safe environment. The cut felt warm. You were pretty sure it started bleeding.

That is until your foot slips and you feel everything going upside down, crashing onto you, sharp pain digging into your sides, as you tumble down. And from water in your nose, eyes, and airway, you can give a wild guess that you fell into some kind of creek. If it’s true, then your clothes and your backpack are most likely busted. You try to get up, but your hands slide over slick, wet rocks on the bottom of the stream, making you slip back into the water and sending you into a whole coughing fit, bitter water resting on your tongue like a layer of algae. You yank your foot from under some rock, desperately trying to listen to the footsteps that at the moment were as loud as hell’s bells for you, stumbling to your feet, and through the thick darkness, you see that the path ahead will only be uphill. The ground is wet and muddy, but you don’t care, hands and nails digging into it, crawling upwards as fast as you can. You feel yourself grow cold when you hear a quiet slide and feel a hand grab you by your leg.

And then you start kicking, screaming, howling until a bitter burn on your throat makes you cough, spreading the sharp pain with every collapse of your chest. Fingers digging into the fresh mud and leaves, raking through them, earth sticking to the underside of your nails, as you try to grapple onto something, anything, to hold onto and save yourself from the iron hold on your ankle. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it pumping the blood through every single artery and vein, and you’re sure that animalistic fear is being spread through your body along with it.

“Sing for me, boy. Nobody will hear you.” The man’s voice, devoid of emotions, littered with deep sighs and grunts of exertion rumbled from above you, as he dragged you down from the insignificant height you managed to climb.

“Fuck off! Let go of me!” You scream, your body contorted into a bizarre shape as you turn your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the man and correct the aim of your kicks. Your neck was weeping in pain and strain, along with every other muscle in your body. Fear scorched your insides. This was it for you, truly. Nobody will find your body in this stupid fucking forest and you’re just going to become the food for local fauna. Beautiful.

You expected anything – harsh blows to the back of your head, being drowned inside this shallow creek, stabbed to death, until you paint the water red, getting your head bashed in, or even shot like a rabid, stray dog who had no one to care for it. Instead, you’re getting your hands and legs tied together, and the man throws you over his shoulder, despite your attempts to scratch or punch him. You scream and cry, burning your throat raw, kicking and writing in the hold of the unknown person. Chanting harsh insults, and trying to kick or punch didn’t work either, but you didn’t care. You weren’t about to find out more about the local serial killer. However, no matter your intentions, you could not see where you were going, dark earth being the only thing in front of your eyes. Your thoughts and presence float far away from here, as the man brings you somewhere, jabbing a needle with something that makes you light-headed and sleepy.

When you finally wake up you’re changed from your dirt-stained, wet clothes, with your body aching like no tomorrow and the cut on your face dressed. The room has barely any light in it, and you feel the warm covers enveloping you, reminding you of home until you turn your head and see…something. Someone. His presence is enough to send shivers through your body.

He’s sitting by the bed you’re tucked into. Skull mask. Large, looming figure. Dark eyes gleaming right at you. You feel your face contorting into an angry scowl when you look at him and try to get out of bed. He doesn’t move. You get yanked back, and promptly turn your head again, feeling the muscles in your back and neck ache. Your hand is cuffed to the radiator. You feel a rough lump in your throat rise and drowsiness floating away. It doesn’t quite sink in yet, but you could feel the anxiety forming once again in the pit of your stomach and that lump rising as if you’re about to vomit whatever was left of your insides.

You hear the man get up from his chair with a quiet shuffle and the squeak of the chair legs on the floorboards. You flinch back, your back pressing into the warm metal of the radiator, almost burning the skin through your clothes. The bed dips down under the weight of the man. He’s not taking away his eyes from you, even for a second. It makes you want to crawl under the blanket that is now resting at your feet, just to hide from the piercing, heated gaze that you want to avoid at any cost.

You close your eyes, trying to calm down and think about anything else, but what surrounded you. Which proved impossible the moment you felt a rough, calloused hand shift from its position on the bed and rest on the side of your face. Warm, scorching fingers stroking your cheek gently, like that same hand wasn’t just dragging you through water and muck in the shallow forest creek.

Ghost felt…Good. Despite the bad first impression, he was sure that he was on the right track. Your skin felt divine, your beautiful eyes made him want to keep you here forever and never let go. And the way you looked while sleeping made him want to abandon observing altogether and crawl into the bed with you, caging in a tight, bone-crushing embrace that would show you just how much he craves you. But for you, it would probably be too fast, too shocking. For now, just being able to look at you and touch you was enough.

Maybe, if Ghost had a little more bravery he would whisper:

“You’re mine, songbird. Forever”

But for now, it’ll do. You’ll come around. One way or another.

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[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - April 14 - Week 15

Hi, friends! Here’s the fic I read this week. I hope you find something you like. Enjo a specific trope list being shared tomorrow as well! 

237 Years by treesramblings

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I lost control like that. Please forgive me.” She bows before him even as her instincts scream to touch, take, eat.

“It’s okay, Miss Stark. My name is Steve Rogers. I’m—I’m so happy to meet you.”

She inches forward, trying to control herself, and sticks out a hand. He grasps it and his skin is warm, almost feverish, and Toni’s eyelids flutter.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Natasha Antonia Stark. You—You can call me Toni.”

His smile is blinding and almost reminds her of the sun.

“Hi, Toni.”

my thoughts: this short little fic destroyed me so I’m sharing with y’all so it can do the same to you. Please come tell me what you think after you read it. 

Triskelion Crescent by seventymilestobabylon 

Steve Rogers runs a flower shop. Tony Stark owns a real estate company (eh, and it probably does other stuff too, like it's got "Industries" in the title) that's sniffing around Steve's neighborhood of Triskelion Crescent with an eye to building new developments. Triskelion Crescent fights back.

my thoughts: the story format was EXCELLENT, and the plot twist was heartbreaking, and i loved everything about this fic. EVERYTHING. 

sambar and scaffolding by seventymilestobabylon for eternalbreath 

Steve ran away from SHIELD when they unfroze him and then accidentally ended up in the same cooking class as Tony Stark. 100% fluffy nonsense birthday fic for my lovely friend Renay.

my thoughts: i have a soft for Tony calling Steve Brooklyn, and also for them cooking together. This was like catnip. 

Talking Bodies by itsallAvengers

Coincidentally, the physical effects of romantic and sexual desire match up very closely with the physical effects of fear. But it's not a problem-- it's not like anyone is going to be able to hear the way your heart speeds up, or see the minute dilation of your pupils, are they? They'd have to be some sort of Superhuman to do that.

And what's worse than a Superhuman hearing that quick pulse and seeing those dilated eyes and concluding that you're in love with them?

A Superhuman hearing that quick pulse and seeing those dilated eyes and thinking you're terrified of them.

my thoughts: I want to wrap steve up in a hug and protect him. He’s so sweet and careful and still just jumps to all the wrong conclusions. I also really loved how his abilities were highlighted. 

Theory of Mind by seventymilestobabylon 

Or, five things Steve didn't let Tony buy him, and one thing he did

my thoughts: I love this. The way that Steve and Tony just don’t communicate well is really highlighted, and how desperately they care for each other is so tender. 

[a-rumbly-in-my-tumbly]

It's here kids!

Honestly, the scent is not what I expected from the notes list at all, and it's mostly because, when applied to skin, the top notes fade away completely in about five minutes or so. However, the citrus and bergamot do give it an initial freshness that does linger longer when it's not warm (sprayed on card-- I tried both). So, tl;dr, if you're giving this a pass because you don't like bergamot? It's not really an issue here.

The Fun (tm) begins when you've had it on your skin for a bit. The middle notes (jasmine and rose) have a pretty heady bloom that, for lack of a better word, swells. It actually mingles in a way so reminiscent of lilies I had to check the scent notes again.

Considering how Yakumo is cold-blooded, how lovely it is that when he warms it blossoms into a powdery floral with a bright musk! It has a whisper of classic old lady with a woodsy, amber adjacent undertone; and when you consider Yakumo being raised by his grandparents, it's a nice thought that it would echo in what it transforms into when it warms.

When the floral recedes the white wood is what settles in; I would call this a femme-leaning unisex scent as a result, but I guess the takeaway here is if you don't like white florals this probably isn't for you.

Of course, everyone's body chemistry is different, and what smells good on me may not do the same for you. I would say that if you're the type that earthy, cocoa, spicy type scents generally work for, your chemistry may clash with the undertones of this (as that's the profile that doesn't work for me at all).

The nitty-gritty is, this is a mid-range perfume price-wise and acts like one. There's no greasy feel against the skin like a cheaper perfume tends to have, which is what one hopes for in the $40 range. However, the longevity is only about four to six hours rather than the eight to twelve you would want from a $60 perfume (which, coincidentally, is the range of what I usually wear).

The packaging is nice, the box is well constructed; part of me wishes the cap was glass like the bottle is, but it still holds securely and the glass of the bottle itself is pretty hefty.

I also got a free photocard of Homecoming Yakumo; apparently if you go to the shop in person and say you're posting to social media, they'll give you a group one too!

But Kiku, do you like it, you ask?

I do, actually. It's clear they actually thought about Yakumo; this isn't just a "this is popular, slap their faces on a box and make shit up" type of production from my albeit limited experience. For the money, I think it's worth it just as a perfume--I would be hesitant to pay more than $50, though, since there are absolutely scents with more longevity than this.

That said, I would love to get some of the others to try them now! Even if just to see if they invoke the other characters in the way this one does.

I'll wear it again, and I do like the box design. Would I buy it again? I'll have to spend more time with it, I think.

[ardentalley]

hi darling! i'm putting your questions and my answers under a read more to cut for length! i don't want to spam ppls dashes haha --

HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GET INTO THE INDUSTRY?! I'm imagining you knew some people who knew the path to get there because this isn't the kind of industry they tell you how to get a job in when you're in high school or university.

i kinda stumbled into it! :) the first job that i had out of college was coincidentally an internship at a place that made custom ambient scents (so fragrances for fashion shows, hotel lobbies, high end designer stores, etc) and things just went from there!

What's your background? Did you go to university or did you like work at a perfume shop or??? Did you do chemistry?! Is that even relevant?

i did neither! LOL i went to uni for literally literature haha -- i have a degree in comparative literature of all things, so it's pretty far from the traditional chemistry/math majors that would feed more naturally into the industry, but a fragrance house is so much more than just perfumers and chemists, right -- there's marketing, sales, operations, like if you have soft skills? then you can conceivably work in a fragrance house :)

Do you speak French?

i do NOT speak french, but a lot of people in the industry do! i will say that it's very useful to speak at least one other language if you wanna work in fragrance -- if it's french or italian or spanish, good! but recently, the fact that i speak chinese and also japanese have been huge helps bc the industry is rapidly globalizing!

You listed so many old perfumes on that post! How do you know them when some are older than you or me!!! Do you have a database that you just punch notes into and it spits out records of related perfumes?! DO YOU JUST KNOW THIS SHIT BECAUSE IT'S YOUR FUCKING JOB?! Because that would be so cool.

a combo of all the above actually! LOL so there's a weekly "class" that is offer at my office, and it's just called "fragrance training" thats open to anyone in the office who wants to learn. it's a way to educate the ppl who aren't perfumers/evaluators on the industry, it's history, etc. so we work through the history of perfume, smell market products like mitsouko, jicky, shalimar, and then l'eau d'issey, with the boom of calone (tm), etc. and then after that, you learn raw ingredients broken into families! so we'll smell like the most common citrus notes one day, and then go through maybe some white flowers the next time, and the market products that feature those raws. we also have a giant product room that's constantly being updated with the latest big launches -- so the new billie eilish, the latest coach fragrance, the new j'adore, and we're all encouraged to smell them when they come in. this way, you've got your finger on the pulse of the way the market is trending, and you can kind of track consumer tastes and it'll make you better at your job, no matter what your specific job is!

How many of your own perfumes have you crafted?

since i'm not a perfumer or an evaluator, i haven't actually made any perfumes, but because i'm in sales, i do get to handle the projects as they come in, and i basically get to touch every part of the process, and sometimes even help with the creative bits! so a few ones that i was actually really proud of: all the ledda fragrances, tsu lang yor by troye sivan, all the hp frags by house of sillage, most of the michael malul stuff, papaya isla by abbott

i actually don't wear perfume anymore asldkfjas mostly bc ur not allowed to wear fragrance to work; you're asked to keep your skin "clean" just in case we need "skin" to smell on for stuff that people are working on, so LOL

What is your goal/dream job five or ten years from now? I know being a nose is EXTREMELY difficult, but I don't know what the periphery jobs in the industry are so I can't imagine what comes next in your career.

yeah, i don't think i have what it takes to be a proper perfumer/nose; i do think i want to become an evaluator (which is like the translator between sales and the perfumers) but also, i like sales a lot! i like the client-facing aspect, and i'm still young, so we'll see where life takes me! but i do know that this is where i wanna work, and that i'm very happy where i am :)

i think the common misconception is that the ONLY job in the fragrance industry is like... to be the one making the fragrance, but that's totally not true! like... we are a company, at the end of the day -- and perfumers, while they are the heart and soul of what we do, they're like... maybe 1% of the actual headcount in a fragrance house -- we have ppl in r&d, ppl in the labs, ppl in the factories, ppl who do innovation, so there's so many other ways to get into the fragrance industry! :D

What is the most difficult scent to extract in terms of litre to ton ratio? I know it takes something like a LITERAL METRIC TON of jasmine to get one litre of pure oil. This blew my mind. And so did the old extraction method of sticking the flowers on animal fat between two sheets of glass to extract the scent. That was so cool to see!

yes -- so that animal fat extraction is called "enfleurage", and it's very ancient. it takes a lot of time and effort, and produces good effects, but in the year of our lord 2023... we've got bigger and better ways haha! i think the most expensive raw on the current palette pound of pound would be orris, which is derived from iris root. i would def suggest looking it up! it's a gorgeous ingredient and i am OBSESSED lol

Do you know the Fragonard house full of art that the perfumery is named after?

sadly i do not :( i've never heard of fragonard :(

Rain. RAIN. I AM GOING FERAL!!!!!!!! ARE YOU A NOSE? DO YOU WORK WITH NOSES??! HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO GRASSE??!! CAN WE BE BEST FRIENDS PLEASE OMG I'M DYING IVER HERE TO TALK ABOUT FRAGRANCES WITH YOUUUUUU

LMFAO OMFG!!!! i didn't know you were so passionate about fragrance!!! but to answer your questions:

no i'm not a nose u__u

but yES i do work with noses (perfumers and evaluators, both can be called noses, but i'm assuming you're talking about the people who actually write the formulas, in which case -- perfumers)

i have not been to grasse (yet!) but our company has a villa and an r&d facility out there so the next time i'm in europe, i'll def be able to visit!

yes! we can def be bffs! <3

[notoriouslydevious]

Pool Party Caitlyn by BabyJane

[dear-mrs-otome]

Silvio Ricci - PRETEND LOVER Event - Another Terrible Summary

(Yes, he is blushing. And yes, you'd better get used to his red-faced dumbstruck look because it's happening. Often.)

Here is my absolutely irreverent and chock full of hyperbole, only nominally-guaranteed-accurate rendition of Silvio's event story.

****************

Please always bear in mind that 1) I claim to be no expert in JP and there are and will be mistakes in this so show mercy on this amateur - and if you see any obvious mistakes, kindly let me know so I can improve 2) I didn't even TRY to make Silvio's dialogue as rude as it is. Always, at all times, assume this man is talking like a foul-mouthed sailor.

Aaaaaand 3) I made this so fucking long. Why did I feel compelled to be so detailed idk - this isn't even really a summary anymore it's just the whole damn event. FML

****************

So our story starts with Emma walking down the hall and being stopped by a very persistent aristocratic man she’s been dodging for days now - almost a dozen times now whenever she’s found herself alone he’s popped up, ‘coincidentally’, pestering her to have tea or spend time with him. 

He tries again today, stating how beautiful it is outside and how she should join him for tea. She tries to make her excuses, apologizing and saying she has a prior engagement, but this stalker says no, he knows that’s not true - she doesn’t have anything on her schedule, he’s already checked with the servants in court. 

She’s dismayed and also more than a bit wtf internally, when he presses her and says she doesn’t have any reason to hesitate so they should go. Takes her by the hand, making her skin sort of literally crawl, and tries to pull her off - only to be interrupted by a voice.

“Found you.”

Someone’s hand comes from behind and snags her, hauling her in…and she turns around to find, to her horror, that it’s Silvio there behind her. The tyrant himself, the last person she probably wants to see or have anything to do with because he is patently The Worst. 

She can tell already that today is going to be rough.

He’s got his arms around her from behind, caught up too in his fancy schmancy exotic cologne, when he scolds her for making a hassle of herself. She’s one part relieved to be rescued from the creepy aristo guy…and one part full of dread because it’s Silvio that’s saved her and she knows he is far faaaar from a nice man. 

He says with a smile how she’d already make a promise to him for the next while, and she’s blankly like….promise??? Prompting him to scowl at her before she’s all OH RIGHT RIIIIGHT THAT PROMISE RIGHT NOW YEP YEP. Realizing that maybe he’s trying to cover for her excuse to the aristocrat earlier. 

Silvio’s grinning, but then he turns to the aristocrat and brushes him off, stating he doesn’t know who the guy is but he shouldn’t dare touch someone else’s woman - specifically, this woman is his.

Cue the aristocrat nearly pissing himself with terror, and Emma wondering wtf?? 

“Isn’t that right, woman?” Silvio prompts, and she’s left scrambling to say that maybe? That might be true??

She’s wondering if this is some attempt at protecting her, but her gut is telling her WARNING WARNING you in danger girl. Silvio’s got a wicked look and is clearly up to no good, but she’s pretty desperate here.

The aristocrat hastily apologizes, saying he had no idea that was the case, before he scampers off like a terrified rabbit.

Silvio scoffs at the guy in his absence, before turning back to Emma and telling her they should go. They have a promise to keep, no? She’s just silent, wary, and he grins.

“Come with me to a negotiation, woman. You certainly can’t refuse the invitation of your benefactor….right?” he presses.

She’s just YEP, had a feeling this was coming…but she forces herself to say it’d be her pleasure, much to Silvio’s great satisfaction.

—---

They end up at a fancy dressmaker’s shop, where the clerk who seems utterly unsurprised to see them sets about bustling Emma into a changing room and dressing her up in clothes and jewelry as if she were some kind of doll, much to her bemusement. Complete with a lavish jeweled necklace that makes her nearly sick at hearing the price.

Silvio points out that he can’t have any woman of his looking poor, and she asks if he’s insisting they stick with that scenario. She’d assumed it was just to put up a front for that aristocrat.

“Just for the day. Consider it an honor - there are countless women out there who would love to be my girl,” Silvio says with a smirk.

“And if I refuse?” she asks.

He threatens to hand her over to that perverted bastard, and she knows he’s talking about that aristocrat from before, so she has no real choice other than to silence her protests. But then something occurs to her and she asks him why, if he’s got alllll these women just throwing themselves at him, why doesn’t he ask one of them to play the role of his lover??

She doesn’t get why, but she has the distinct feeling he was searching for someone to attend this business talk with him in the role of his paramour. 

He states too that it doesn’t make any sense if it’s not her.  

“Why?” she presses.

“It just doesn’t,” he insists.

She points out that that’s not an answer, and he’s clearly getting frustrated, telling her to just quit her yammering - she can keep the clothes and the finery, just come with him. In a panic she tells him she can’t accept that, thinking to herself in horror how much money it is worth and how she’d have to work for years and years to make that much to pay him back.

She’s shaking her head when Silvio, his expression all a sour frown, grabs her chin and leans in. “Then I’ll buy you at whatever price you name.”

She’s flailing now because GORGEOUS MAN TOO CLoSE she’s gotta look away from those pretty pretty ocean eyes as she tells him it’s not a matter of money. “You helped me out today, so I’m going along with you as a way of saying thanks. So I don’t need to be paid for it.”

He just stops to stare at her all wide-eyed and wordless, and she starts to wonder why he looks so stunned.

Finally, she asks him to let go of her face…and he bitches that she shouldn’t try to order him around but he does so immediately anyways.

Moving on, he asks if she’s ready to go with him then and when she says yes he scolds her to smile then - she looks so glum she doesn’t exactly look like his lover. She feels a little bad she made it so obvious, and she promises to try her best - but despite that promise, he still looks displeased.

—---

They end up at the home of a prominent merchant in the Rhodolite jewelry business, the head of one of the largest and most famous in the country. Silvio and the merchant exchange business pleasantries, catching up on the past few years since they’ve met, and Emma sits silently and listens - realizing he was being legit, it really is just a business meeting. 

The merchant expresses thanks for Silvio introducing them to many trade channels, even those outside of Benitoite, and he tells the man his good are so quality it’d be a shame for them to never make it out of this small country.

He’s there today to discuss a new opportunity with the merchant, one the man is very eager for since he claims it’s certain to be a success if Silvio is involved. But the man first makes note of how rare it is for Silvio to bring a woman along with him to a business endeavor, turning his attention to Emma.

He seems impressed that any particular ‘lovely flower’ of Rhodolite has caught Silvio’s eye, and Emma knows that is an oblique way of referring to a mistress in Rhodolite. She realizes she’s meant to act more as his mistress or arm candy than a true girlfriend, but she hides all those complicated feels behind a pretty smile.

But at that moment she hears something crash and everyone looks at the doorway to the room where Emma sees a woman standing, her face in her hands looking as if she were on the verge of crying.

“Ah, you’re up, woman,” Silvio prompts Emma. 

She’s not sure what he means by that, looking back and forth between a frowning Silvio and the woman starting to cry. There are broken tea cups and such around the woman’s feet, a tea set she’d clearly been bringing them, and brushing aside whatever Silvio seems to want from her she turns to the teary woman. 

“Are you hurt?” she asks, running over to her, and through her sobs the woman declares that she was serious about Silvio.

It all finally makes sense to Emma, who looks back at him and sees him scowling, though he’s as haughty as ever, as she says his name.

He insists he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, they had a meal and he gave her a little gift - clearly he doesn’t think it was any big deal. But Emma realizes there might have been a misunderstanding.

“Prince Silvio, is that woman really your paramour?” the woman asks him.

“That’s right,” he says. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

The woman is stammering denials and clearly distraught, and Emma realizes she seemed to have really liked Silvio, as she succumbs to her tears at last.

Emma tries to hold her up as she sags, but the woman shakes her off, and her heart is breaking at the sight - wondering if she can confess it’s all a lie and fake. She doesn’t know what Silvio’s up to here, but she doesn’t want any part of stomping all over some woman’s love. “Please, don’t worry. I’m -”

But that’s as far as she gets before her words are cut off by Silvio clapping a hand over her mouth and offering that if she doesn’t like being his mistress, he’ll bump her up to full-fledged lover. He’s smiling but clearly pissed, though that makes two of them - she tries to claw his hand off her but he holds on tighter.

“What, you’re that pleased?” he asks, to her muffled noise of protests. “Don’t worry, I’ve decided that the only woman in Rhodolite for me is you. I’m not in the mood to play the field much now.”

She’s incensed, raging to herself over how much of a skeezy lowlife this man is, flailing and fighting as he holds her even tighter still, pressing them even closer together. (Hon hon hon 😉)

Until with a wail, overcome at last, the poor woman runs away in tears without Emma ever getting the chance to set her straight.

“Don’t go running your mouth, stupid,” Silvio hisses in her ear as soon as she’s gone, finally letting her go. 

She rounds on him, catching her breath. “Go after her and apologize right now!”

He’s totally baffled, frowning as he insists he doesn’t have anything to apologize for, but Emma is furious as she tells him he DOES, for what happened just now. Silvio just insists he doesn’t get what she’s saying, and she’s about to let him have it again when he stops her mouth again.

“More like, you’ve got some nerve talking to me that way, don’t you?” he sneers. He’s not hurting her but her mouth is blocked again, his stupidly handsome face leaning in to give her a once-over. “And don’t give me that defiant look. You’re doing this to thank me, right?”

She’s thinking how she did want to thank him for helping her out of the blue, but she’s got lines she can’t cross. Rather, she grips his hand over her mouth hard - knowing she’s not gonna win any strength contests against a man but wanting to make it very clear to him she was defiant.

He scoffs that she’s not being cute and they’re glaring at each other, sparks practically flying in the air, when they’re finally interrupted by the poor merchant who’s still there just….UHHHH SCUSE ME…? 

Silvio apologizes for the fuss, and the man apologizes in return for his daughter’s behavior, Emma realizing the tearful woman must be the merchant’s own daughter. They go back to their discussions as if nothing’s happened - she’s still got PLENTY to say to him, but can’t interrupt now.

—---

The moment they’ve left the meeting, she’s pouncing on him again, saying how awful that was. She still feels wretched and wracked with guilt. Silvio asks if she's STILL going on about that, and tells her to forget it - he’d brought her here to get put an end to all this from the start. 

She had a feeling that had been his purpose all along. “Do you have no heart at all?”

Even if he can’t return a woman’s feelings, there has to be SOME better way to turn them down than what he did here, she feels. But the way he took that woman’s heart and crumpled it up and tossed it aside, like trash into a wastebasket, infuriates her beyond reason.

“A heart? That’s got nothing to do with business,” he says, to her further outrage.

“Besides, I don’t act like that towards every woman.” He says that profitable ones are worth paying for, but not that particular woman - and he had to find some way to break things off without being rude because she’s the daughter of a business partner.

“You had to treat her with consideration, so you set me up as your lover and tried to get her to give up?” Emma rephrases.

“Yeah…so what the hell’s with the attitude just now?” he demands, warning her that he’s not going to just let it slide the next time she puts him in an uncomfortable position.

He literally doesn’t think he did anything wrong here, she realizes. She’s never thought of him as some kind of saint or anything but she didn’t think he was bad enough to just walk all over other people indiscriminately. “I see, it’s all very clear now.”

He turning around when he realizes she’d stopped a few steps back and asks what’s with the sudden honesty.

“It’s all very clear now - that you are the scum of the earth, the sort of person who stomps all over other people’s hearts!” she accuses furiously.

Angrily he asks if she’s looking for a fight and she retorts he’s already gotten himself  one, taking him aback.

“Do you honestly think you can do whatever you want to something that doesn’t make you a profit?” she asks.

He says that it’s just a hassle and a waste of time that could be better spent elsewhere. “If it’s not worth money, it’s not worth the care.”

It’s a fundamental different of opinion, she realizes. “Money isn’t everything.” She reiterates to him that that woman seemed to really like him, regardless of money or anything like that, but he counters that he’s not buying that - there’s plenty of women who are underhanded gold-diggers.

She vehemently denies that that was the case here, thinking to herself that nobody cries the way that woman had over money, and asks how he doesn’t seem to get that.

Silvio still maintains he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You must lack some basic part of humanity.” She knows she’s being outrageously disrespectful to the prince of a foreign country but she’s too far gone to care right now, not with the memory of that woman’s tears still seared in her mind. “If you keep thinking like that…I don’t think anyone could ever love you.”

She’s half ranting when she suddenly senses the change in the air. 

“You….”

CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER ENDING HERE: Premium

Silvio’s got a thunderous frown as he closes the gap between them and grabs ahold of her hand, dragging her to a nearby alley. “I can't stand women like you.”

“What a coincidence, the feeling is mutual,” she fires back.

He half scoffs, saying she’s got cajones to take on the prince from another country, and she retorts that just being a prince isn’t any excuse for stepping all over other people’s hearts. He tells her that he can alway fix things with money, and she starts to protest -

Only for it to be cut off before she’s barely started by his hand hitting the wall beside her with a loud bang, his handsome face close enough that their breath is mingling as he offers to just buy her, at whatever her asking price.

She realizes this is all pointless…nothing she says is going to get through to him. “No thank you!” She shoves at his chest and he doesn’t fight her as she pushes him away - but he still grabs ahold of her hand.

Irritated, he says they’ve wasted enough time here and they’ll be late for his next appointment, insisting that he’s not done with her yet despite her protests that she has zero interest in going anywhere else. “Denied. No matter what you say, you’re my woman for the day.”

She’s half dragged back out into the streets proper - but if he wants to be like that, she decides, he’s given her an idea.

—---

Next they find themselves at a nobleman’s mansion, and Emma can’t miss the woman on their way in who’s clearly thrilled to see Silvio, realizing it’s set to be the same scenario all over again. Silvio reminds her warily that she’s she’s just gotta keep quiet and sit next to him, nothing else unless she wants him to get back at her. 

They’re cooling their heels, waiting for this business partner of his to show up, and she decides it’s now or never if she’s going to put her plan into action. As they’re seated, taking their tea, she waits until Silvio’s set his teacup back down after taking a sip, and the moment he does she tosses any shame aside and hugs his arm as tightly as she can. 

He’s startled, and she launches into her attack. “It’s so lonely just sitting here in silence, Prince Silvio,” she pouts, and demands that he pay attention to her and not his business deal, or else she’ll never let go. Dredging up the recollection of a wicked woman she’d read about in one of her book and assuming the role, shoving aside embarrassment as she wriggles and clings to him even harder.

She figured, if she made herself enough of an annoyance, he’d kick her out of the meeting. But in actuality…

He’s completely nonresponsive, no reaction whatsoever. She’s been braced for him to chew her out but all she’s getting is crickets and she wonders - did she piss him off SO MUCH that he can’t even form words??

She lifts her head with all sorts of trepidation to peek up at him…and is completely gobsmacked to see his wickedly handsome face is just awash in flaming red.

“...Prince Silvio?” It doesn’t seem like he’s red in the face because he’s angry, and she’s just thinking NO NO WAY HE’D BE ALL SHY, pfft not Silvio -

“...Let go of me, you idiot!” he sputters as he comes back to himself, trying to pull his arm free of her grasp when he freezes all over again and his face somehow manages to turn redder and redder. 

Totally baffled, she’s asking what’s wrong as he accuses her of doing this on PURPOSE, but she’s just echoing that in bemusement. He’s half shouting she IS, before he covers his face with his free hand and heaves the world’s biggest sigh, then glances down at her. 

Or more accurately, down at his arm, as he manages (still blushing furiously) to point out that she’s touching him. She’s just ??? before it finally clicks, to her horror.

He’s talking about her tiddies, mashed onto his arm as she’s hugging it so tightly. 

She lets go in a bigass hurry, just stammering. “N-n-no, I didn’t mean to do that!!”

He’s still totally silent, eyes closed and face still en fuego as she keeps flailing and insisting she didn’t do it on purpose.

When they're rescued (?) by the nobleman coming in apologizing for keeping him waiting. And in an instant 180 Silvio’s recovered, cool as a cucumber, his blush gone so fast as he greets the man that she half wonders if the whole thing was some kinda illusion…but she has the recollection of it seared into her brain.

No WAY….she’s thinking, trying to wrap her brain around what just happened. So stunned she can do little but sit there the entire rest of the meeting.

—---

Afterwards, they're sitting in the carriage in WORLD'S AWKWARDEST SILENCE. Silvio's seated himself diagonally across from her, as far away as he can possibly get in the carriage, and she wonders if he’s still on edge because USUALLY Silvio’s got no problem with them casually touching but he’s clearly making an effort to be out of reach.

She starts to say his name but he cuts her off. “You say one more word, you’re gonna get it.” He’s still got his arm propped in the window, staring out it all moody, refusing to make eye contact with her.

She’s just OHOHO how fascinating…and she gets up all casually and takes a seat next to him, watching him flinch when she does.  She can’t help but laugh a little at the sight.

“You…” he warns.

She manages to get out an apology, still amused, and says it’s just too much of a surprise. “Maybe you’re actually terrible with women?”

“No, no way,” he insists, and turns to wrap his arms around her waist suddenly. She realizes though it seems he’s fine with it when HE’S the one instigating the touching, and she’s surprised by the fact that her heart pounds a little with his fancy cologne surrounding her. 

Back to his usual cocky self he grins and offers to take her right here and now if she wants.

“Dream on, you gaudy sleaze,” she scoffs. 

Still smirking he says he’s going to remember that - and he’s going to make her pay for that, plus the stuff she said to him earlier that day. It seems he’s back in fine tyrant form, she realizes.

He undoes one of the buttons on her blouse, and she’s reminded that she’s got a beast that doesn’t understand the first thing about hearts on her hands here. She’s flailing in disbelief that he was actually serious, and she says his name all alarmed.

She grabs his face to stop him  - only to find he’s immediately red again, looking flustered and uncomfortable, frozen in place again at the touch of her hands.

She points out that if this is how it’s going to play out, she doesn’t think he has to force himself to threaten her (she’s clearly about ZERO PERCENT THREATENED hahaha)

He’s just grumpy scowling again. “Quiet - don’t you get the situation you’re in?”

“Yeah. I’m quite certain you can’t do anything more than undo that button,” she challenges, and he’s left to just stare at her wide eyed.

“Bullseye, right?” she crows.

“It’s just that the mood’s been killed,” he blusters, shoving them apart.

He’d totally denied being bad with women, but she’s beginning to wonder - is THAT the reason he’s so dense when it comes to their hearts? He’s got a certain sensitivity that’s completely contrary to his outer appearance, and she realizes she might have accused him without understanding the whole picture. Clearly it’s a shitty thing what he did to those women that loved him but she can’t quit thinking about his whole mindset that ‘money solves everything’.

There must be some reason why he got that idea in the first place, she figures. 

And without understanding the why, she regrets having said something like the fact that he would never be loved by anyone. 

Silvio's moaning and groaning about how everything is The Worst and he needs a drink - and she offers that if so, she knows a good bar near here.

“You drink?” he asks, and she says she enjoys it somewhat, and he’s back to his usual arrogant grinning self as he tells her to come with him then. “It’s your fault I feel this crappy anyways.”

But she notices he’s put distance between them again, even though there’s not much room to escape each other ina small carriage no matter how much he seems he might want to. It’d be easy to write him off, just tell herself she’d never understand him…but she finds she doesn’t want to. And those sudden feelings confuse her a little. 

Meanwhile, Silvio’s in his corner of the carriage grumbling that this wasn’t worth it - not even getting to see Rio’s expression will put this whole fiasco back in the black. (Sir plz just admit you're pissy beyond belief she's got the dirt on you now) But when she asks him what he’d said just now, he brushes it off as nothing and turns away without saying anything else. 

Today was a rough day, but in the end she’s glad she got to know the real face of this man. And now that she knows the SQUEEEISHY UNDERBELLY OF SILVIO, that impression she’s always had that he’d be hard to get to know has begun to fade.

THE END (if you made it this far, bless you)

The Sweet Ending can be found here.

The AU epilogue can be found here.

[cottonkendi]

Your Babies | 32

MASTERLIST

Sano Shinichiro x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Crack, Angst

Warning: Spoiler warnings, Profanity

Synopsis: Arguments ft. Guitars

Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33

“Be safe, make sure to be home before dinner.” You mumble against Shinichiro’s skin as he drops you off at your house before heading over to the new shop that the two of you had officially bought the other week which is also currently getting filled in with Shinichiro’s equipment from the old shop.

The move started only three days ago which has been making Shinichiro busier than ever which in turn makes you the one responsible for the financial problems for now.

Just like what the two of you had planned, the old shop is now being put on sale - without the kids knowing - while you are now working as a teacher’s assistant in university to scarpe as much money as you can before you graduate in a few months where you’ll be shadowing and assisting Sara’s mother in her engineering company.

“I will. Go have fun with Wakasa, okay? You two haven’t been spending all that much time with each other. He’s been threatening me recently, y’know? Telling me to stop swamping you with work.” He chuckles under his breath as he eyes the door behind you, leading to the living room of your house where Wakasa is most likely waiting for you.

Rolling your eyes, a smile still makes its way to your face as you take a few steps back. “Oh yeah? Did he kick you on the stomach again? Punched you to the ground like last time?”

“Oh haha, let’s all laugh at how your boyfriend got beaten up by your cousin. So funny.” Shinichiro tries to say with a straight face but inevitably breaks into laughter when Wakasa coincidentally opens the door to let you in after hearing your voice from the inside.

“What the hell are you guys doing outside? I’ve been waiting inside for five minutes, just how long do you guys say goodbye to each other?” You can practically hear the irritation from your cousin as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, shoulder leaning on the door frame as he raises his eyebrows at the two of you.

Lightly pushing Shinichiro away, you whisper under your breath. “Guess it’s time for you to go now before Mr. White Leopard beats you up.”

You catch a glimpse of Shinichiro biting his lip, suppressing his laughter as he shallowly nods at the two of you before walking over to his bike, all the while, Wakasa continues to look like he’s ready to drop kick both of you  judging from the frown on his face.

Once your boyfriend is out of view, you finally enter your house, going straight into your room while Wakasa follows.

“I still can’t believe the two of you bought that new building. Such a good place though, the traffic there is great, definitely gonna have more customers once you open up again.” Wakasa points out, taking his place on your bed like how he usually does as he watches you walk around your room, getting some documents and spare money in the different bags and purses that you haven;t used in awhile. “But also, you said something about needing money right? If you want, I can lend you two some money. Benkei and I have been getting a ton of new customers for some reason. Mostly females though. They’ve all paid for the 6 month subscription in the gym with coaching. It’s absurd.”

You pause from your searching to give your cousin a look. “Really now. You don’t know why there are a ton of new female clients in the gym? You sure about that? Are you absolutely sure that you do not know why your gym, owned by two muscular and fairly attractive men, are getting a surge of new female clients who willingly paid for a 6 month subscription in the gym?” By now, your cousin has already broken out in a fit of laughter, limbs splayed all over your bed as he tries to avoid the glare you’re directing at him.

“You just wanted to shove it in my face that you and Benkei are still sought after by girls even after highschool. You’re such an attention whore, it’s unbelievable.” You scoff lightheartedly, enjoying the chuckles leaving your cousin who merely shrugs at your words, a smirk on his face.

“It’s not my fault that I’m good looking and that my looks help with business. It’s just my business strategy.”

“Shut up. I don’t need to hear this. I’ve had enough of this conversation-”

“The conversation barely started.”

“And I’m already done with it. Now shh. I’m trying to find some money in my room.”

Going back to money searching, you hear your cousin let out a huff. “You’re such a brat. Like those little sisters who ruin their older brother’s chance in getting a girl.”

Sparing him a glance, you make sure that he sees you raise your eyebrows at him. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who’s been threatening every potential lover who comes my way. If Shinichiro wasn’t so used to getting beaten up by the time we liked each other, I doubt he’d have lasted long with you threatening him with a dango stick every other night.”

“Hah! I was just making sure that the peop- wait… you knew? Since when?” Wakasa abruptly sits up from your bed, elbows propping him up as he stares at you with wide eyes, an unusual look on his bored face.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way to him only to flick his forehead. “I’ve known a year after Shin and I started dating, dumbass. You don’t think Manjiro actually kept your threats a secret, do you? He can barely contain his excitement when he told me about how cool you were beating up Shin that first time you threatened him.” You lightly punch his chest to make a point.

Slowly, he gets comfortable on the bed again. “If you’ve known for so long and haven’t actually confronted me about it, I guess that I’m off the hook right? You’ve already forgiven me which means that we can all forget about it ever happening.”

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips as you take a seat by your bed, beside your cousin, hands clutching the last of the money you’ve left in this room after completely abandoning it for a few months in a row just because you’ve taken up a permanent residency in the Sano household. “I only found 57,000 yen. This is not even enough to get through for a month.”

Turning towards you, Wakasa eyes the bills in your hand. “I told you, I can lend you money. I wasn’t just bragging earlier.”

You shake your head at him. “No, It will be too difficult if I borrow money from you. Shin and I already talked about it, we won’t be borrowing money for the shop since it will be too difficult in case things don’t go as plan.”

“But how are you guys going to find money for it then?”

“I’m taking up a part time job then I’ve already got a contractual job after I graduate in Sara’s family, you remember her, right?” Wakasa nods at you, now sat up and thinking hard on what to do to help. “Shin and I are also thinking of using the money that we;ve both been saving up for the future. ‘Cause remember how we both jokingly saved up money a few years ago for the wedding that we were planning? It got big through the years so I think that that will be good too. But other than that, just in case, I’m thinking of selling my guitar.”

Wakasa’s head snaps towards you, eyes blown out the moment you finish your sentence. “Your guitar?! You’re really going to sell that?”

Nodding your head, you let out a sigh as you take out your phone to show him some messages. “Yeah, I’ve been contacting some interested buyers, both here in Japan and some foreign ones. Since the guitar is in good condition and all of the parts were customized, it racked up quite a price. And besides, I haven;t really been using it all that much, just getting dusty in our room. It’s more like a display now anyways than an actual guitar so why not just sell it off to help with the payments.” You nonchalantly shrug.

“But you’ve spent years just saving up money for that. You worked so much before and you’re just going to sell it?”

“Wakasa, that’s in the past. I worked hard for it back then and now, it’s going to be sold off for a bigger and much needed money.”

After a second of silence, Wakasa lets out a sigh after making sure that you’re absolutely sure about what you’re about to do. “Are you sure that you won’t regret this?”

“I’m sure… and if I do, then I can just save up money in the future and buy another better guitar, right? Or maybe buy it back?”

“Who are you going to sell it to?”

“Remember Hikaru? Well, he has an uncle who collects guitars and he has the highest offered price for it so I’m thinking of meeting up with him this afternoon…”

“Is that why you asked me to hang out with you today? You gonna make me come with you?”

“... Maybe…”

Taking off your shoes, you greet grandpa who’s just about done with cooking the rice, Manjiro and Emma both running around the kitchen, putting the utensils on the dinner table. “You’re home late. Busy with school? You only have less than two months before you graduate, right?” Grandpa asks as he takes the takeout from you. “Shinichiro is still out but he called and said that he’ll be home soon.”

Nodding, greet the two kids. “Hm, I was just checking something out with Wakasa.”

“Hm, go clean up while I handle dinner. You two should clean up too, you’ve been running around all day.” Manjiro salutes before running over to the bathroom, Emma right behind him as he screams about showering first. All the while, you silently walk over to your bedroom, eyeing the empty wall where your guitar used to be displayed a few hours ago.

Taking your other guitar that you usually practice on, you gingerly hang it where your now sold guitar used to be, hoping that it will help with making the wall look less empty. “It doesn’t quite look right but it’ll do.” Letting out a sigh, you make your way to the bathroom, cleaning yourself up before dinner, unaware of the bedroom door opening.

Getting out of the bathroom, you’re startled when you see Shinichiro’s body on the bed, unmoving.

Putting on your clothes, you wait for him to start talking when you notice him glancing at you. “Today was so tiring.” He lets out a long sigh, lanky body stretching out on the soft mattress. “We moved the things for the break room and storage room then tomorrow, we’ll start moving things for the actual shop. They also delivered the new countertop, shelves and some new machines. I’m so excited but it’s so tiring.” Walking over to his side, you press a kiss on his forehead, your arms caging him down which puts a smirk on his lips.

“Is this your way of telling me that you’ll take care of me?” He murmurs, hands making their way to your hips. “If so, then please take care of me real good-”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Shin.” Flicking his forehead, you push yourself off of the bed after giving him a kiss on the nose. “Get ready for dinner, the kids must be hungry. C’mon.”

You hear him groan from the bed as you walk out of the bedroom before he follows after, body slouched as he drags his feet to the dining room.

All throughout dinner, you’re forced into answering the kids’ questions about why the old shop is getting cleaner and cleaner with the usual machines disappearing from sight while you make sure that Shinichiro doesn’t just accidentally let the secret out. Thankfully, after cleaning up, both the kids and grandpa headed to their bedroom while you helped Shinichiro back into yours. “Can’t you at least move your feet so we can go to our room faster?”

“I can’t~ I’m too tired.”

“I swear, Shin. I’m going to leave you in this hallway and lock you out of our room.”

Pushing him onto the bed, you heave out a sigh as you stretch out your arms, a little numb from dragging him across the house. “You should clean up before going to sleep, Shin-”

“Wait… where’s your guitar? Did the kids take it again?” Shinichiro sits up from the bed, eyes trained at the wall where your guitar is hung. “Or are you adding another set of customized thingies again?”

Shaking your head, you carelessly wave your hand. “It’s nothing. I just sold it-”

“What?! You sold it? Why?” By now, it seems as if the fatigue in Shinichiro’s body has gone away the moment you told him just what happened to your guitar. His dark eyes so wide as he stares at you with shock. “Why?! Was something wrong with it? Did the kids break it or something?! Do you want me to tell them off-”

“What the-? No, the kids didn’t break it or anything, okay? Would you please calm down? You’re reacting as if I sold your bike.” You chuckle as you make him sit down again, hands going to his shoulders to lightly massage the tension out of it. “I sold it because we needed money, right? I knew someone who collects those customized acoustic guitars and he gave me a million yen for it.” The small smile on your face gets wiped off when you notice the furrow in Shinichiro’s brows, lips turned into a frown as he looks up at you.

“You sold your guitar? Why would you- you didn’t have to. I could’ve done something, y’know. You shouldn’t have sold it.” He barks out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he shrugs your hands off of his shoulders. “It’s my shop, Y/N. I could’ve found a way to pay for the remaining money that we needed to pay for-”

“Your shop?” Raising your brow, you put your hands on your hips. “Shin, we both decided on buying that shop, it’s not just your shop. It’s ours. And why are you acting like you’re more affected by that guitar than me? It’s my guitar. I paid for it years ago and now, I decided to sell it. Why are you acting like it’s such a big deal?”

“Well then, why are you acting like it’s not a big deal? That guitar has years of memories in it, Y/N! It’s not just some guitar. I know that you hold that guitar dear to you. You played it when you were all alone. Played it when we first became official. The kids love it. You taught Izana how to sing using that guitar and now you’re just going to sell it like it’s nothing!” Shinichiro raises his voice at you, hands moving around, trying to find a way to calm himself down as he feels something tick inside his head.

By now, you can feel your patience running thin as Shinichiro continues to glare up at you, his hands clutching the fabric of his pants as he rubs the back of his head in frustration. Running your tongue over your cheek, you let out a huff. “I know what that guitar means to me, Shinichiro. I’m the one who bought it. But it’s just a damn guitar that I can easily replace if I wanted to. For fucks sake, I can buy it again in the future once we have enough money again but for now, I just thought that you’d appreciate it if I helped with the million yen that we’re still missing for our shop. I just thought that you’d be happy that we don’t have to worry about scraping up some money.” Turning away from him, you busy yourself with pacing around the room, unable to look at Shinichiro right now, not when you can feel the irritation in your body exploding.

“You didn’t have to do that for the shop. It’s my shop and I would’ve found a way to-”

“There you go again with you calling it ‘your’ shop.” Throwing your hands in the air, you stomp over to your boyfriend, glaring straight at him. “Shinichiro. It’s our shop. You may have first dreamt of it, first thought of wanting it. But now. It’s not just your dream, okay? It’s ours. It’s our dream and we’re both working for it and if you find it so hard to accept that I sold a damn guitar to help you, then fine. Use the money on something else and stop talking to me like I just threw our relationship out the door just because I sold a piece of wood with some fancy accessories on it.”

Shinichiro lets out a loud groan, hand aggressively rubbing his head in frustration. “You don’t fucking get it! It’s not just the guitar. I’m supposed to be the one providing for us both and you-”

“Are you fucking insane? Is that really why you’re upset? You can’t accept a little help?”

It seems as if both of your words have only sunk in now that the two of you are glaring at each other, teeth bared and ready to say things that will most likely hurt the both of you once you utter them into existence.

The air is tense, feeling heavy and hard to breathe as the two of you lay still in the room, unsure on how to approach each other after what seems to be an explosive argument that sprung up from thin air.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper-”

“I think we’re both tired, Shin.” You sigh out, shoulders dropping as you give him a glance before walking over to the dresser. “We should probably rest for tonight. Finish this in the morning. We’re not going to get anywhere if we keep talking while we’re both clearly drained.”

Stiffly nodding, Shinichiro watches with anticipation as you take out your phone and a jacket. “I’m going to Wakasa’s for tonight.”

“No wait, Y/N-” Shinichiro reaches out for you, trying to stop you from walking out.

“Shin, we can talk this out tomorrow, okay? Go get some sleep. You’re tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gently removing his hand from your arm, you give him a smile. “I love you.” Pressing a kiss on the edge of his lips, you walk out of the bedroom and into the garden where you text Wakasa to give you a ride back to his place, not in the mood to be spending the night alone at your own house.

As for Shinichiro, he’s left standing by the door, eyes closed in desperation as he pinches his arms. “I messed up…”

It only feels like a few seconds has passed when he hears someone knock on the door, but alas, it seems as if the knocking is coming from the other door which leads inside the house instead of the one where you just walked out from. Trudging over to it, he slowly opens the door, revealing Emma and Manjiro, both of them looking up at him with wide and curious eyes. “Did… did the two of you have a fight?” He hears Emma mumble, her hands holding onto Manjiro’s.

“We heard the two of you talking loudly when we were sneaking into the kitchen for some snacks and decided to listen in but then it got quiet. We were scared something bad happened.” Manjiro says as he takes a look inside, immediately noticing your absence. “Where’s Y/N?”

Running a hand through his hair, Shinichiro gives the two kids a smile, trying to ease their worries. “Don’t worry, Y/N just… needed to go visit Wakasa for the night.”

Opening the door a little wider, he steps to the side. “You kids wanna sleepover? I don’t think I’ll be able to be alone tonight.” He tries to joke around though his chest still feels heavy. Thankfully though, the kids seem to have not noticed.

“Of course! Who would I be if I let my older brother get visited by nightmares and monsters at night!” Manjiro immediately runs over to the bed, jumping onto the mattress and bouncing a little which makes him giggle followed by Emma running over as well. The two kids leaving their older brother by the door. Though the sight does lessen the frown on his face.

taglist

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all rights reserved © cottonkendi, 2021. do not copy or repost any of my works! reblogs/feedbacks are very appreciated~

[vespersposts]

A little too much

🏣 The first drabble in the series is about Taiga and the consequences of silence. It's a somewhat melancholy story, but I think it's a fairly common situation, so much so that I used a fact that two passengers were talking about during one of my commuter trips.

🔴‼ The story contains NSFW references and allusive content, so it is suitable for audiences 18+ ‼🔴

Any other reference to anyone is purely coincidental; I made it all from my own imagination.

Taiga of course belongs to author Tadatoshi Fujimaki.

-> more knb stories here 🏀

Sooner or later he will understand.

Every time he makes mistakes, but every time he finds a way to make it up. It is normal to be confused. After university, real life begins with its ups and downs. At the age of twenty-five everything and everyone is a mess. Hormones, the search for employment, parties, alcohol.

You can't always be perfectly aligned.

“You can't, even if you wanted to” you repeat, attracting a brief glance from your host, who continues to eat his ramen as if nothing had happened. He cooked it himself in front of your eyes, in absolute silence, while you told him how things between you and Nobunaga were getting tangled up for the umpteenth time. 

"Every time we see each other I end up ranting about him!" you smile, taking a sip of the pale ale he offered you with dinner. You watch his eyes shift back into yours. You see him wipe his mouth with a napkin, probably to avoid commenting on your words, as his disappointment in your attitude comes through loud and clear.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to figure out if there was any hope that his visit to Japan could seal his definitive return. 

You miss him a little too much, and not just when Nobunaga disappears for the weekend and you are left waiting. You miss him when you see the kids playing at the basketball court, when you go grocery shopping and think that he would surely know what to do with the dried seaweed. You miss him when you pass young couples on the street with children in tow, because you know that he would make a great father. You miss seeing his expressive eyes lingering in yours, those bizarre eyebrows furrowing every time you tell him something he doesn't agree with, his mouth that bends imperceptibly downwards, but from which no contemptuous judgment comes out. You miss his laugh, the early morning chats in the kitchen of your small flat, the nights spent tangled in the sheets telling each other it would be the last time, because you were nothing but each other's plaything.

You keep telling yourself that is normal to think about him when you shower and your hand slides between your legs : his strong arms around your waist, his warm body pressing yours against the mattress, his fiery red hair tickling your skin, his lips against your shoulders as he lets you know how he will give you pleasure. You know it's just an innocent game to overlay his face on Nobunaga's during intimacy, but you also know that if you didn't do it, you wouldn't feel anything.

"I'm engaged! " he tells you, pulling from his shirt a necklace on which a thick silver band is strung. "Engaged" you repeat, as if that word had no meaning in your language. You see him smile, pull out his mobile phone and in an instant the face of an unknown girl appears under your nose, smiling happily in his arms.

It is not you.

It's not the two of you.

"Congratulations, Taiga!" is all you manage to say before a big tear lines your right cheek. You grit your teeth and smile at him, a closed-lipped smile, a smile so tight and so painful that the tears quickly multiply.

"You're so happy because you finally got rid of me, tell me the truth!" he smiles as he gets up from the table to join you and give you what you know is your last embrace.

You nod, hiding your face in the warmth of his chest. What happens next you can't know, but you don't want to know either.

The only thing you know is always the same: you can't always be perfectly aligned.

[teebarnes]

✨ | I'm Fallin' For You, Darling.

Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader

Summary: Both you and Chris have quite the relationship, it all started the day you gave him a marker.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): Fluffffff, Angst for sure, talk of anxiety (not a lot but also a lot).

A/N: Thank you guys so much for 100 followers! It means the world, I hope you like this one as much as I do. (Sorry that's a lotta words).

⤑ Click here for my taglist so you can be notified when my new fics are posted.

Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))

When Chris Evans is nervous, there is only one thing that calms him down. And that one thing is you and the fact that you allow him to doodle on your hands all the time.

The premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier was the first time you saw Chris so nervous. Him constantly rubbing his hands together or bouncing his leg underneath the press table and the times when he'd fiddle with the hem of his shirts. These were things you noticed Chris did when he got nervous, and it seemed that you were the only one who witnessed them.

The third day into the film's press tour, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew what it felt like to be anxious, the feeling settling within the depths of your stomach or the constant avoidance of looking out to an audience. Sometimes you'd excuse yourself a few times throughout interviews just to catch your own breath.

~

The whole TCA: TWS cast sat along the stage of the comic-con panel. The hosts introduced you all, crowds cheering loudly when they saw everyone.

You took your seat next to Chris, who was already fiddling with his plastic water bottle that he'd been gripping so tightly on, you could already see the indents on the bottle. You smiled, looking out to the audience waving back to some of your fans that you could see holding signs up for you in the crowd. It was, in fact, times like these that your anxiety shot right out the window, replacing that anxiety with happiness and admiration of your fan base.

Five minutes into the panel talk and questions were directed to Scarlett and RDJ. You knew you wouldn't be talking anytime soon as, of course, like all other press tours, the interviews were heavily coordinated. So before you'd have the chance to speak, Sebastian, Anthony, and the Russo brother would go first. Sitting back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, your eyes following down to where Chris was bouncing his leg. Then, setting your water back onto the table, you pulled yourself and your chair closer to the table, reaching over across Joe Russo, who observed what you were doing.

"Could you pass me the marker, please, Joe?" you whispered to him; he smiled, nodding handing you the marker. "Thanks", you whispered again.

You returned to the comfort of your seat, Scarlett and RDJ still bantering. You look forward to the audience and give a tiny little smile to the fans who were waving at you. Your eyes looked down to your arm; you wrote a little message on your forearm, so he knew what the pen was for.

You scooted a bit closer to Chris just enough so you could hand him the pen. You lightly looked over to him; your hand went underneath the table and across to rest on Chris' lap. It was right there when his leg stopped bouncing. You held the pen in your hand, waiting for him to take it from you. Chris looked up turning his gaze to you; you gave him a smile nodding.

His eyes directed back down to where your arm was. He read the note you had written for him, 'Use my arm to doodle. It helps with anxiety :)'. He let out a smile, all the while letting out the breath he'd been holding in.

You looked back up and over to Sebastian, who was now talking; you felt the pen slip out from your grip, the marker clicked and the coldish ink embracing the surface of your skin.

One of Chris' hand rested firmly on your forearm to keep it from moving, and the other used to doodle. That was the first time in the history of you knowing Chris to be calm and content. No bouncing his leg or fidgeting. He was completely aware of everything instead of his growing anxiety.

~

It was after that moment Chris slowly began to fall in love. He never expected someone to notice his worries and do something about them. But, the way you sat there while he doodled on your arm didn't phase you at all, you wanted to support him, and you showed him that you did.

Years later, It became a force of habit, the tiny hugs you'd give Chris just to slide a marker into his pocket before going on stage. The small slight movements he'd make before he took your hand into his so he could draw.

You'd become someone who knew him better than he knew himself. The many dates he took you on lead to you moving in with him. The small moments you both had messing around on set and loving him in the silliest of moments meant eternity to the pair of you. You knew that you had fallen in love with Chris Evans, and so was he. You both just didn't realise that the moment would be a forever moment. If you hadn't offered him a marker that day, where would you be?

It was now the premiere of Avengers: End Game and the last press tour you'd have for a while. Today's interview consisted of a comic-con panel, the same panel you happily let Chris doodle on your arm five years ago.

You both sat together, his hand protectively on your thigh. You were speaking into the mic as a fan had just asked you a question about possibly seeing your character in the future of the MCU. Chris sat there attentive to your voice while he drew on the top of your hand. It was a little duck with a Boston Red Sox hat holding a heart.

Once you had finished answering the question and someone else began to speak, you looked back down to see what Chris was drawing. You squinted in wonder; looking back at Chris, you wondered why he was drawing this. Coincidentally, you had drawn a duck on him one day in between an interview—a duck holding a heart wearing a NASA cap. Chris looked at you with his cheesy smile. Oh! he was up to something, you thought. Chuckling, you watched him colour in the small heart with a red marker. He was, in truth, quite a good artist; you managed to take a photo of all his doodles over the years. But this one, this doodle was a bit different; it meant something more to you.

After you had both finished the panel, you were set on getting a new tattoo. Kissing Chris' lips, you told him that you'd see him at home. Chris had asked you where you were going, so you said you were going out to dinner with your mum in town, which was true you just left out the part of you going to get another tattoo. Your parents were in for the weekend for reasons unknown and wanted to see you before they left, so you had already planned to see them. He nodded, kissing you once more before departing ways.

You both were always so sentimental, and you knew as soon as you saw that duck in a red sox cap holding a heart on your hand that you wanted it to be a forever doodle. That day, when you had drawn a duck on him, he went and got it tatted on his hand the same day. The first tattoo visible on Chris' body, the only tattoo that wasn't hidden under his shirts. In contrast, most of your tattoos were on your arms and wrists; this was another tattoo among the few others you had on your hand, others being the original six symbol and some writing of your favourite quotes.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on the chair in your private tattoo artist's studio, getting the duck tattooed on you forever. The tattoo was a reminder of memories both you and him had experienced together.

~

The red sox hat, being where he took you on your first date five years ago. To a Red Sox game, of course. You didn't have anything to wear to represent the team, so Chris kindly offered you his Red Sox cap to wear; five years later, Chris had to purchase a new hat because you kept his one. Of course, he didn't mind; he loved to see you dressed in things that were his; the hat was one of them.

"I don't have anything to wear", you sadly pouted at Chris, looking at him in his Red Sox jersey and cap.

He looked down to you as you stood next to him, holding his hand softly, looking out to the stadium. He smiled, taking his cap off and placing it over your head.

"Now you do", he smiled, leading you down the stairs to your seats. You weren't really a fan of baseball. Still, once you had experienced your first game, oh man... it became a routine for both you and Chris to attend every game the Red Sox were playing at.

~

The duck, the furry little animal you had brought home a few months after you had first moved in with Chris two years ago. In all honesty, you wanted to get a turtle, but as soon as you saw that slight yellow fluff waddling around at the pet store, you wanted nothing more than to take it home with you. Chris couldn't say no to you, so the duck became your baby.

"y/n?" Chris came around the corner where you'd sat yourself talking to the little duck... Chris had been looking for you for almost fifteen minutes when he found you sitting there with the pet shop worker.

The excitement in your eyes told him that you had forgotten all about the turtle. You looked up at him smiling, patting the empty seat next to him. He sat watching you pet the small baby duck with your thumb lightly. "I'm naming him Alfie" you smiled brightly, looking back at Chris.

He took the duck out of your hands and chuckled, "Alfie, it is".

~

The red heart...

A reminder of how much you both loved each other. Something that had never gone away, the love both you and Chris had continued, it grew stronger over time, of course with a few hiccups here and there but never enough to break that love. But this, the tiny little heart being tattooed onto you, was one similar to the heart that homed your middle finger on a ring. The rose gold ring he gifted you when he asked you to be his girlfriend four years ago.

You rested your head on Chris' shoulder as both of you watched the office. A new series you'd been watching together, it was a few months after your first date with Chris, and you both were head over heels with each other.

"Hey y/n", he whispered.

"Mh?"

"I'm fallin' for you darling."

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking up at him, "You're what", you whispered softly, you heard what he said, but you just needed to hear it again.

He brought the small box out, opening it to reveal a rose gold band hearts making up the band. "I said I'm falling in love with you", he smiled before continuing ", Be my girlfriend?" he sweetly asked.

You chuckled, letting him slide the ring onto your middle finger. "Of course", you whispered back to him before cupping his face. You both looked at each other, you saw it, you saw the life you'd been wanting. It was with him.

"I love you".

~

Sitting at the dinner table with your parents, you briefly looked down at the now wrapped tattoo on your hand. You had thanked your tattoo artist for another fantastic job; the new ink was precisely how Chris drew it on you earlier today. Your parents were eating away and so were you.

"It's great to see you again, Hunny", your dad spoke.

You smiled, nodding. "I've missed you guys so much."

"What's on your agenda for this weekend?" you spoke again, taking a bite of your food. Your mum and dad took one look at each other before your mum stopped to talk.

"Your dad and I are going to old friends party", she smiled at you. "party", you chuckled. "Since when do you guys party".

"it's an engagement party, I mean... do you have some parties we could go to" your dad joked.

"First of all... no." you laughed, cringing at the image in your head of your parents dancing and drinking. "But that's nice. I hope you both have fun, wish whoever a congratulations for me" you smiled.

"Oh, we will", your mum outwardly said. You took a second to squint your eyes in curiosity to your mum's tone. "Mhkay".

~

It was the end of dinner, and you had parted ways with your parents, taking a Cab to the home you shared with Chris. "thank you, driver," you smiled, hopping out of the cab walking up to your driveway. You giggled, seeing Dodger patiently waiting for you at the front door. "Hey buddy", you smiled, opening up the door for him to jump all over you.

Closing the door behind you, kneeling down to cuddle your pup. Dodger wagged his tail giving you kisses. "Shhhhh", you chuckled lightly, "were you waiting for me, huh?" you watched Dodger roll around on the floor. You stood up, taking your shoes off, leaving your keys on the hook. "C'mon, baby", you whispered, gesturing for Dodger to follow. You both walked down the hall, Dodger by your side.

You could hear the snores coming from your room and knew Chris was already sleeping. You opened the door, looking down at Dodger "go keep my spot warm for me, please", you sweetly asked your pup, who did just that. You watched him gently jump up onto the bed and curl up on your side of the bed.

Walking further down the hall, you went to take a shower. Changing into the PJs you left on the warming rack in the bathroom, you followed back out to check on Alfie, who would be sleeping in your office. Once that was done, you head into your and Chris' room. You took off your slippers and ushered Dodger to sleep in his bed. You kissed his head before he left. "night, bubba".

You slide in next to Chris, who had his back to you. Covering yourself with the blanket, you slide one arm around his bare torso pulling yourself closer to him. He was so warm, and you loved it. Chris groaned, turning over. He smiled sleepily. "Hey hon, how was dinner?" "It was good", you kissed his lips, "That's good," he said, pulling you into his arms to cuddle.

"Hey babe"

"mhhh", he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"I love you."

"I love you too".

~

The next day you were doing a panel with the marvel cast. Like any other day, you answered questions, so why did you feel this one would be different. You were a bit nervous today, like you had woken up wrong, or you were waiting for something to happen. You didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

You were talking to your audience. It was a large panel today consisting of the MCU cast, if not all of them. Maybe that's why you were so nervous; the bigger the cast panel, the bigger audience to speak to. "Make eye contact and hand gestures y/n," you thought to yourself right before you begun to answer the fan's questions. You start to use your hands gesturing when a fan had asked you about your character's personality.

Chris smiled, watching you intently; fans noticed. But as you were gesturing, he noticed the tattoo. He had to double-take when he saw your hand, leaving a small on his face. After you finished your question, he leaned in. "I love your tattoo, babe", he whispered; his comment calmed your nerves a bit as you chuckled ", just following your lead."

You both lean back into your seats as Joe and Anthony Russo began the next half of the panel. You were already forty minutes through... only another forty to go.

Anthony spoke, "As you may know, this will be the last you'll see of your favourite actors and actresses for a while..." Joe turned to the entire panel. "So we put together a little something of your time over the last decade" Joe turns back to the audience. "So sit back and relax."

The panel turned their chairs to watch the big screen, the lights dimmed, and the video rolled. It was a decade gag-reel of everyone in the MCU; Chris had pulled your chair closer to his; he knew you were nervous, for what reason? He didn't know, and neither did you. He should've been the nervous one; he was about to do something in front of the entire audience he had been planning for months.

Your head rested on Chris' shoulder, laughing with everyone else as the embarrassing footage rolled through. There was more footage of you and Chris than anyone else, but again, you were too clouded in worry. You didn't overthink about it.

Then there it was, a clip you didn't know existed—a video of you dancing with Scarlett and Jeremy on the infinity war set. You were being videoed from afar, but Chris comes into the frame making funny faces before pointing at you. You blushed a bit, laughing lightly.

"You see her", Past Chris spoke to the camera. "One day, I am going to marry her" he wiggles his finger over to your past self, who was still dancing around like an idiot. You swear your heart stopped, so ultimately, you started bouncing your leg. The video stopped, and the lights came back on. There were hushed voices; you knew they were looking your way, but you couldn't tell why.

You turned your chair, trying to avoid whoever was looking at you. Not noticing anything, nobody was talking. You had turned your head to look down to the end of the panel where The Russo brothers were. They were all looking in your direction, including the whole cast panel. You jumped slightly when Chris caught your leg mid-bounce; you turned to look at him, his eyes dazzling before you. Oh, that smile, you knew that smile all too well. Chris was smiling like a little kid.

Chris tapped you on your thigh, which caught your attention, so you looked down. This is it; this is the same feeling you felt when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. You burst into tears after reading the message on his arm; Chris' forearm rested in your lap while holding a black marker in his hand. You sniffed, looking softly at him. He was now in tears too. Taking the black marker from his grip, you clicked it; resting your hand on his forearm to steady yourself, you answered his question.

'Will you marry me, y/n?' the question written in his bold writing stared right back at you.

You always had your answer 'of course.'

You closed the lid on the pen, and Chris opened his hand; your engagement ring sat in the nook of his palm. He slides it onto your ring finger right next to your rose-gold one. You smile blinking through the tears, you turn to him, and Chris had already stood with his arms in the air.

"SHE SAID YES"

The whole audience got up cheering; he leaned in, cupping your cheeks, both of you laughing through your kisses. He had lifted you into his arms, spinning you around. He set you back down; you wiped the tears from your face laughing while wearing your t-shirt. At that point, you knew everyone was in on your proposal; you turned to your cast members, who were all clapping.

"Give a round of applause for the future Mr and Mrs Evans!" Joe spoke.

You went around hugging everyone who had gotten up just to congratulate the pair of you. One by one, your friends embraced you in their arms.

"Congratulations", two-voice spoke from behind you, "oh my god, you idiots", you chuckled, pulling your parents into a big hug. Chris stood next to you as your dad pulled him into a hug. "Your fiancé sends her congratulations", he laughed, referencing the conversation you had with them last night.

Chris looked down at you, "They had texted me last night what you had said. I'm surprised you didn't catch on", he laughed. "I- I didn't know... I was curious after mum said it so suspiciously but didn't think," you mentally face-palmed yourself.

And like that, the panel was concluded. Everyone congratulating you and Chris before leaving. Chris had set up a little engagement party back at your house; everyone was enjoying their time having fun. You sat on Chris' lap still in shock, his arms wrapped around your waist "you didn't see that coming, did you?" he smirked, looking up at you.

"No... no, I didn't" you laughed sweetly. Your hand ran over Chris' forearm where it still had both his and your writing on it. "That was the best proposal ever" you looked at him, smiling, "I'm glad, darling" you both leaned into each other, lips connecting softly.

"I've fallen deeply in love with you, Mr Evans".

"I'm still falling for you".

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

Chris Evans Taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @fairityretro

[seoulwhat]

Cheaper By The Dozen (#11)

Summary: You own a flower shop, and every week for the past year, a handsome guy has come in to order a dozen roses to be sent to his girlfriend. One day, another man comes in to send a dozen flowers...to the same woman. Now you are left with a dilemma: tell the first customer or let him find out on his own. Pair: Mingyu x reader Genre: slight angst, fluff Warnings: cheating Word Count: 2.8k

Every week, the same handsome and tanned skinned man walks in and asks for the same dozen roses to be sent out. You assumed they were for his girlfriend. He never had a wedding ring on, but you didn't ever really like to assume because not everyone wears wedding rings these days.

"Hi again," he smiled at you with his pearly white teeth. "Can I have the dozen pink and red roses sent to the newspaper company down the street? And make it to Lee Mina, please."

You rang him up on the register and told him his total. This has become a routine, and although the two of you had seen each other every week for the past year, neither of you felt comfortable enough to ask each other's names. It had to be obvious what your name was though. The shop is literally named after you. However, he on the other hand, remained unnamed and you didn't plan on asking what his name is anytime soon.

He left the shop, striding out the door with happiness in each step. You approached your refrigerated roses and brought them out. You took out the black wrapping paper as well as a light pink ribbon and wrapped both around the flowers. You set them up nicely so that when the receiver gets them, she can see every single flower. With that done, you gave them to your delivery man and off he went.

Your greatest pride in your flower shop is seeing the same customers come and put in orders. Just the fact that they love your flowers enough to order them more than once made you happy and made you feel successful. Your parents hated the idea of you becoming a florist because "how will you become wealthy?" The whole point in finding a career is to work happily. If you became the CEO heir of the stock company your dad owned, you would've been brought into a world that is nothing but greed and lying. It was not something you were interested in. They were also worried that you wouldn't find a great suitor, but that is also something you aren't interested in. Love should be unexpected, not forced by greed.

As expected, when a week passed by, the same handsome man walked in, ordered the same flowers to the same woman at the same company, and then left. As you made the last knot in the ribbon around the roses, the stores' door dinged, alarming you that someone just walked in. As you approached your register, an unfamiliar face looked up at you.

"Hello, how can I help you?" You asked the man who looked a little confused.

"Hey," he said unsure. "I wanted to get your dozen flowers deal. They're $20, right?" he asked with a smile.

You sent a smile back. "Yes. Our dozen flowers deal comes with a dozen of your choice of flower, along with black floral paper wrapped around it as well as a pink ribbon to top it off. We also hand deliver these for an extra $1 if it's local."

The man clasped his hands together. "That is perfect! I would like to place an order then for sunflowers."

With that, you rang the man up and asked for his information since he was a new customer.

"The name that I want them sent to is Lee Mina and she works at the newspaper company down the street."

You instantly froze and looked up at the man. "I didn't know we had more than one newspaper company locally," you nervously laughed.

The man furrowed his brows. "I don't think we do. Is there a problem?"

You shook your head. There's no way it's the same woman. Just focus on doing your job!

"Now, this is the newspaper company on 1st street, correct?" You had to check to see if it's the same one.

"Yeah, the one by the park," the man pointed in the direction.

Your eyes slightly widened, thinking about the man that had been coming to your shop for the past year sending flowers to the same woman.

"Okay then," you started. "She will love these flowers!" you said nervously.

The man smiled. "Thank you. If she likes them, I'll be coming back more often!"

With that, the man left. You quickly wrapped up the second batch of the dozen flowers for the same woman. It kept running through your mind that this woman is playing both men. They are obviously sweet men who are very thoughtful towards her. If only they both knew. What would happen if you told the first man? Should you tell the first man or just leave it? After all, it isn't any of your business.

You handed both flower bundles to your delivery man. "Hey, can you do me a favor? It is none of my business, but can you check to make sure that there is no other Lee Mina at the newspaper company when you deliver these? I want to make sure they get to the right person."

When your delivery man came back, he said that there was only one Lee Mina and those around her were excited for her as she got two deliveries of a dozen flowers.

Just wait it out and see what happens, you thought to yourself. There is no reason why you should tell either man anything.

Weeks had passed and the same two men continued to come into your shop ordering the same dozen flowers for the same woman at the same company. You were fascinated that they would come in on the same day, just 20 minutes apart. You had hoped with all your heart that they would come in and hear the other ordering flowers for the same woman, but of course, nothing is that coincidental.

"I'll take the usual," the man said. "But instead, do you think you can put my name on a card on put it in the flowers?"

You looked up at the man in confusion. "We are adding something different after a year of the same order?"

The man nervously laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, apparently she doesn't know who has been sending her flowers these days. Like, who else, other than me, would send her flowers? I've been sending her the same ones for a year." He shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

"Okay," you said feeling sympathetic. "Just tell me your name and I'll out it on the card."

The man nodded. "My name is Mingyu."

"M-I-N-G-Y-U. That's correct, right?"

"Yeah. Can you add something like I care for you so much or something like that?"

You nodded. "Sure thing. Is there anything else you would like to add?"

Mingyu, looked around the shop. "Do you happen to hold any chocolates here?"

You nodded. "Yes, we have heart shaped chocolates, as well as white chocolate and chocolate with nuts. We also have different chocolate packaging that range from the shape of a heart to square, circle, and infinity shaped."

"Which do you think is better?" Mingyu asked in desperation.

"Well, I think it depends on the situation. Since this will be like your normal delivery, I would say go with the round box."

"What if it wasn't a normal delivery? Like what if I feel like she's falling out of love with me?" Those words instantly made you look up at the man. He didn't have the normal shining smile on his face like he normally did. He was scruffy and he looked tired. It had only been a week since you last saw him, yet it seems like the past seven days have been a long time in hell.

"Well then I would say go with the heart if you believe it will help."

The man leaned on the counter with his head down. He sighed and didn't look up. "Sir, are you okay?"

He shook his head in reply. He looked up at you and tears formed at the bottom rim of his eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"Do you want my advice?" You offered. Although the most you knew about this man was his name, and that was something you just found out, you felt like it was your duty to help him out.

"As a woman myself, flowers and chocolates aren't going to solve anything. However, if she is falling out of love with you, it has absolutely nothing to do with you and more about her. If you had been doing the same lovely routine for the past year, which I commend you for, then I truly believe that she must change, not you." You patted him on the back, and he stood up straight. He sniffled and nodded in agreement with your words.

The door dinged and the both of you turned in the direction of the new customer. Your eyes widened, not wanting this right now. You had hoped dearly that this day would come, but now that it has come, you don't want it.

"Can I get the same order to Lee Mina?" The man asked with a smile from the door.

You bit your lip in shock as the man said the woman's name out loud. Mingyu slowly walked away from the counter and towards the man. "Did you just say Lee Mina?"

The man took a step back and his smile faded from his face. "Yes, why?"

"The one that works at the newspaper company?" Mingyu continued to question the man. In response, the man nodded and gulped.

"On 1st street," the man told Mingyu.

Mingyu turned around and faced you. "Did you know about this?"

You stood there, quiet. Not telling him could anger him but also telling him either a lie or the truth can still anger him. All you could do was shake your head in confusion and shrug your shoulders.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Mingyu asked rhetorically. "And you? How long had you been sending flowers to Mina?"

The man looked at Mingyu. For about three months now."

Mingyu looked back at you, tears falling from his eyes. He let out a loud laugh that made you jump. "All this time, I could've known if you told me, but I have been coming in here looking like a fool to you. Clearly you don't care about your customers as much as you would like to lead on. All you care about is money."

With that, Mingyu left the store and the other man followed right after him.

::

Months had passed by, and you hadn't seen either man return. You don't blame them. Considering that Mingyu blamed you for him not knowing about his girl cheating on him, there's no way you would ever see either of them again. You were thankful the other man never returned. You knew deep down that he most likely blamed you for not telling him as well.

It slightly angered you though. Here you are, working at a place called Y/N Florals, yet they come in here thinking you're some type of best friend that should be telling them when you think someone is cheating on them. This has happened in the past, only the men that were cheated on didn't blame you for them not knowing. All you do is provide the flowers. The people it gets sent to is none of your business. This is a sign you would have to make to put up in the future in the store.

You were arranging your flowers by color when a customer walked in.

"Hello, welcome to Y/N Florals." You turned around to look at the customer.

"Hi," he said nervously with a small smile.

"Oh? Mingyu, I never thought I would see you again." You did not welcome him with a smile, although it was very unprofessional on your end.

"Yeah, I thought so as well. I came to order some flowers."

You nodded your head. As badly as you wanted to know what happened, it was none of your business. "What would you like to order?"

"I'm doing something different. What kind of flowers do you like? I'll take your advice."

"I like bright yellow sunflowers with red roses. I feel like their colors really compliment each other."

Mingyu smiled. "That's a good idea. I'll take a dozen mixed as well as a heart shaped box of chocolates."

You nodded your head as you wrote down his order. "What chocolates would you like?"

Mingyu looked up in thought. "Well, what kind do you like?"

"Is this for a new girl? Because we might not like the same things." You told him.

"I don't really know what she likes so I just need some type of foundation to build off of," Mingyu replied.

"Okay, well I like milk chocolates. Do you want those?" Mingyu nodded in response.

"Can you also add a card? I want it to say 'I am sorry. Can we start over?'"

You nodded. "Okay. So, you want a dozen flowers of sunflowers and roses mixed, a box of milk chocolates in a heart shaped box, and a card. Will this be delivered or are you take them yourself?"

"I'll be taking them myself," he said. You rang him up on the register and once he paid, you went to the back room to get his flowers ready. You came back out with is flower order, got the chocolates from the fridge, and wrote on the card. After ten minutes, his order was ready.

"Okay, everything is set," you told him. With a large smile, he approached the counter and grabbed the flowers and chocolates.

"Thank you for everything," he said smiling. He then walked right out of the shop. As you were cleaning up the counter, Mingyu walked back inside the shop.

"Did you want something else?" You asked. He didn't answer and instead approached the counter and put the flowers and chocolates in your direction. You looked down at the flowers and scanned them for any issues.

"What? You don't like them? I do full refunds if you aren't happy."

He didn't speak but continued to stare at you with a huge smile trying to hand you the flowers. In confusion, you stared at him.

Mingyu rolled his eyes and laughed. "Do you not know how to receive flowers?"

"Huh?" you said a little too loud. "You're giving these to me?"

Mingyu nodded and you slowly took the gifts from his hands, unsure if this was a joke or not. "Why are you giving these to me."

"Well, did you read the note on the card?" Mingyu asked you. You quickly thought about the words you wrote on the card for him.

I am sorry. Can we start over?

"What are you sorry for?" You asked him.

"I was such a jerk when I found out Mina was cheating on me and instead of taking my anger out on the right person, I exerted my anger onto you as well as the other guy. Which was wrong of me. I spent so much time contemplating on whether I should apologize to you or just to never come back but it has been bugging me ever since that day because you never did anything wrong. You were always so kind to me and always had the best customer service and I came to like you. I would really like to get to know you better if you allow me to." Mingyu looked down at his fingers and twiddled his thumbs together.

"Okay," you said simply.

He looked up at you wide eyed. "Okay? You're going to give me a chance?"

You shrugged your shoulders and smelled your flowers. "Sure, why not."

Mingyu laughed. "Is it really that easy?"

Your laughed followed his. "No, I'm just making it easy. Do you want me to make it hard?"

Mingyu quickly shook his head. "No thank you. So I'll pick you up later for a date?"

You smiled at him. "Okay. I get out at 6." Mingyu nodded his head and left with a smile across his face.

Along with him, you had a smile on your face that was now hurting your cheeks. As you continued to smell your roses, Mingyu walked back in.

"Wait, what restaurant do you like?"

[writing-in-april]

Happy Coincidences

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You keep running into Spencer just before work- will you ever get his number?

A/N: This fulfills this request from the lovely @spencersblog 🥰 who’s amazing and you should all check out their fics! I had a good time writing this short and sweet piece! I’m sorry for posting it a bit later in the night than usual I’ve just been rather busy today! I’ll be fulfilling one of my other Spencer requests later in the week and maybe a fic for a different character as well before I start my series. I’m feeling extra inspired as of late 🤔 Requests are open!

Warnings: non I think 🤔 maybe a swear?

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.3k

Running into strangers usually makes people annoyed, getting your coffee spilled all over you from someone being too invested in a book would make most people mad. You couldn’t really find it within yourself to be annoyed that morning when a tall lanky man holding a vintage book slammed right into you, spilling both of your coffees. He was immediately apologetic, even offering to get you a new shirt and more,

“ I-I am so so sorry let me buy you a new coffee.” You were blotting out your shirt, a shirt that was white but was now stained brown and covered in whipped cream. You glanced up at the stuttering man still unable to find really any anger in yourself, it had also partially been your fault as well, your book was equally as compelling as his.

“Don’t worry about it, it seems like we were both a bit caught up in our books.” He seemed shocked at your tone, he had definitely been expecting a much more vicious response.

“Still- let me buy you a new-w coffee.” You obliged the stuttering man who you had now gotten a good look at, he was very handsome, there wasn’t any denying that. He wore a dark purple button up cardigan that suited his skin tone way to well with purple converse shoes to match. The whole ensemble that was him was almost to cute to be real, having to blink a little to reassure yourself this wasn’t a dream, there was in fact a cute man- who was also nice offering to pay for your coffee. You learned his name was Spencer after hearing him supply it to the barista at the register- the name suited him just as well as his clothes.

“Why don’t you take my cardigan or something- I assume you’re on your way to work with the time and all that and I wouldn’t want you to have to go through the day with a stained shirt.” He rambled to you while waiting for both of your second cups. Suddenly you remember the extra cardigan you happened to have In your bag, one that happened to be similarly colored to the one your handsome stranger was wearing.

“Thank you but I totally forgot that I had my own in my bag.” You shyly remarked while pulling out your own dark purple cardigan. The boyish smile on his face at the coincidence made your heart flutter, trying to will you to ask for his number. However, life had other plans for you both when you realized you had to rush to work so as not to be late. As you bid your handsome stranger goodbye you hoped another set of coincidences would have you run into him again.

—-

The next time you saw Spencer was almost in the exact same location as our first encounter, right near the front of the coffee shop you both had seemed to take a liking towards. It was only around 20 feet away from where you had both first collided that you spotted the cute fluffy haired man sitting on one of the city benches, he also wisely had put one of the daily papers he’d already probably read underneath him to prevent directly sitting on the undoubtedly dirty bench.

You felt a little weird about approaching him, he seemed deep in thought from your original angle, maybe he was caught up in his thoughts or maybe he was reading again and after all you guys were still relative strangers. You were about to turn around to continue your walk to work until you heard someone calling your name.

Your head popped up in recognition, eyes searching for the source of the voice before landing on the man that was almost edging on being an acquaintance of yours. Hesitating a little you walked towards him, he was as predicted holding another book, though you could not make out the name.

“Hi- it’s g-good to see you again…” The stutter in his voice oddly reassured you, maybe he was just as nervous as you were.

“It’s good to run into you again, especially without having coffee spilled on me.” You giggled before trying to sit down next to him. However, it was stopped briefly by Spencer reaching for another few pages of newspaper to sit underneath me. You gave him your thanks before sitting down to start a conversation with him.

Your conversations seemed to continually be around books, this time being about Spencer’s choice which coincidentally happened to be the same book you were reading, one thousand and one nights.

It was amazing to hear Spencer talk about something he was passionate about, his words speeding up ever faster as he got to the part that he liked to talk about the most made you unconsciously lean in closer to him hanging onto every word he said. Unfortunately every interaction with Spencer seemed to get cut short, he was quickly pulled away from you with an urgent phone call from work. You stared at his retreating figure in admiration while also cursing yourself silently for not asking him for his number again. You got up begrudgingly to make your way to work which just so happened to be in the same direction as Spencer’s.

—-

The snow was steadily sprinkling down as you rounded the corner to find your destination, your now favorite coffee shop. The coffee shop wasn’t really all that different from the many others you had tried before, but it was the continued presence of Spencer- even if it was infrequent that kept making you come back for more.

Your mind was off into another land again, though this time it was filled with the thoughts of Spencer rather than the fantasy novels you were normally consumed in. You had already shared so many thoughts with the man during your run ins, many deep thoughts as well, but it still seemed like you hardly knew anything about him. The craving was there to know more about him and you had started to consciously seek him out, no longer content with only coincidental meetings.

This time luck was not on your side as you looked around the shop to hopefully spot Spencer, he was nowhere to be seen and you had to get to work.

Sitting at your desk in the white collar crime unit at Quantico your mind wouldn’t leave from Spencer. You were walking downstairs for your lunch break to meet your good friend Penelope to hopefully get your mind off the fact that you let such a kind man slip through your fingers again when you heard your name being called across the bullpen of the BAU.

There was Spencer, dressed again in a cardigan though this one was a deep maroon.

“What are you doing here?” Once you had gotten over the fact that you were seeing your handsome stranger once again you connected the dots in your head. Spencer was the Spencer that Penelope worked with at the BAU. Which meant that he had worked right under you the whole time and you had never noticed.

“I work just above you as the tech analyst for the white collar crime unit.” Your spluttered out still unable to hide your surprise at seeing him again. Once again you got to see a boyish smile from the man at your words. Heat flushed to your cheeks, suddenly becoming shy at the thought of Spencer wanting to see you again. Though his next words made your cheeks burn even hotter,

“Would you like to go out on a date? I-I had been meaning to ask you the second time I saw you but I had to go and then I didn’t see you again because we had a case...” Biting your lip at his eager ramblings to conceal a squeal that was hiding behind your lips you nodded eagerly at his words. He hesitated for a moment before asking for a hug- which you gladly accepted already becoming addicted to his embrace. After which you were sure to finally exchange numbers and you were glad of the series of happy coincidences led you to Spencer.

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.  

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.

[tiifalockhart]

Confessions

Anonymous asked: Hi! I was wondering if I could request something for ffxv? I was hoping something where one of Noct’s long time closest friends joins the gang on the road, and they end up getting with Prompto which causes Noct to realize he’s had feelings for them the whole time and gets jealous. I hope that’s not too weird or specific! Thank you!

Pairing: Noctis x Reader/Prompto x Reader

Warnings: alludes to anxiety, jealous, mentions suffocation (as a description of anxiety, don’t worry, no one dies)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: hello!! I’m back with another FFXV request. this is actually the longest thing I’ve written on this blog so far. I really liked this request and was actually planning on doing something similar to it before, I hope you enjoy it anon!

Part Two || Ao3 || Masterlist

Meeting the Prince of Insomnia was purely coincidental. 

It wasn’t in school, it wasn’t in the Citadel, and it wasn’t even through one of Noctis’ other friends. You happened to run into him in the street after exiting one of the small markets located in the city. As you left the market, you couldn’t even walk three full steps before feeling someone bump into you and knock the bag out of your hand. You didn’t complain out loud, but a tired and disappointed sigh left your lips. You stared down at the fallen fruit and ripped bag, glaring at it in hopes that it would clean itself up, until you heard a quiet “Sorry” from your left. 

You slowly turned to look at the perpetrator, your glare piercing into his soul until you realized who he was. A shocked look formed in your features as you took a step back. “Y-You’re-”

“-The Prince, I know.” He sighed as if he never gets to hear the end about it. He looked down at the ruined bag and frowned, before awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you new ones.” He muttered, bending down to pick it up. 

You stared at him in amazement, before quickly leaning down to help him. “I should be the one who’s apologizing, I wasn’t paying attention.” You responded hurriedly, feeling yourself become flustered with the predicament you found yourself in. A soft chuckle left his lips as he shook his head. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” He insisted, which surprised you more. “Let’s face it, I wasn’t paying attention and I ruined your food, right? It’s fine.” Noctis shrugged, guiding you back inside the shop. You expressed your gratitude to him over and over again until the two of you parted. 

After that strange encounter, the two of you began to see each other more often. It seemed to be more coincidental than deliberate, which both of you found odd. Every single time you saw each other, you’d let out an awkward laugh and greet each other, but it usually never went on further than that. 

That is, until your most recent bump-in. The two of you ended up running into each other during class, the two of you obviously trying to do something else other than study. When Noctis’ eyes fell on you, he let out a sigh and slowly shook his head. “I feel like every time I see you, I’m seeing an old friend.” He greeted, which pulled you out of your daze of boredom. 

“Oh... Hey Prince Noctis, I never thought we’d see each other so often after we first met.” You replied, snickering. “I didn’t know you attended school here.” You pointed out, raising a brow.

Noctis nodded lightly as a small smile tugged on his lips. “I feel like fate is telling us to become friends or something like that.” He shrugged, walking alongside you. “Wanna get lunch together after classes?” 

You looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise. “Oh... Me?” You asked, knowing it was a dumb question. “I suppose so... I’m not too busy with my studies at the moment.” 

“Nice. We’ll meet in front of the school then.” He decided, glancing over at you. “I should probably get to class before I get caught skipping.” He muttered, a tired sigh leaving his lips. The two of you said your goodbyes and parted after that, planning to meet up after school. It was such an odd relationship... Neither of you actually considered being friends until now.

After that day, the two of you spend almost every day together. You grew rather close over the years. Noctis seemed to enjoy having somewhere to go that wasn’t strictly royalty... It was a well needed break usually. Noctis often invited you to royal events as well, usually claiming that he was forced to go and he needed a partner to come. For the most part, you knew that he was just taking this chance to find a way out of the event early, but it was still fun. You got to know his father pretty well, which was surreal. The same question crossed your mind often: how the hell were you able to easily become friends with both the Prince, and the King?

Years had passed since then. Noctis made a few more friends and prepared for his trip to get married off during this time, while you were busy helping your family and working. It wasn’t until a few days before when Noctis was scheduled to leave, he ran into you while you were on your way to work. 

A laugh left his lips as you were jolted from your tired state, his sudden presence surprising you. “Man, feels like old times, doesn’t it?” He joked, grinning at you. 

A scoff left your lips as you returned the grin. “Something like that. What are you doing here?” You asked, raising a brow at him. He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I came to get you out of work... And to ask you a favor.” Noctis explained, crossing his arms as he continued to walk, gesturing for you to follow. As the two of you walked, Noctis began to talk. “The thing is... I’m going away for who knows how long. It’s great and all, but I don’t know if I want to leave you behind, you know?” He spoke, his brows furrowing. “I wanted to invite you along, I still have room for one more person to come along, so...” His voice trailed as he avoided your gaze.

You raised a brow in confusion. “Wait... You’re asking me to come to your wedding?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“Something like that. Come with me and my friends, we’re leaving tomorrow morning to go to Altissia. You’re my best friend, I think it’s only fair for both of us if you’re there.” He continued, shrugging. His gaze fell to you as the two of you stopped walking, a curious gleam in his eyes. 

“Well... I’d be honored, are you sure your friends or your fiancée won’t mind?” You questioned, a hesitant look forming on your features. He chuckled and shook his head. 

“Hey, don’t worry about them! Trust me, they’d be happy to be there too. You can meet some of them if you want.” Noctis offered, placing a hand on his hip. 

Realistically, who were you to say no? The Prince was asking you specifically, friend or not, you were in no place to deny him. The only reason why you would be hesitant was because you were afraid you wouldn’t really... Fit in. Noctis more than likely picked people that were involved in the royalty family, people he’s known his entire life that was also royalty, even his to-be-wife was royalty. You were just a simple citizen in all of Insomnia that somehow ran into Noctis more than once for it to be considered more than coincidental. Maybe you were overthinking it, but what if they didn’t like you because you weren’t like them? 

Reluctantly, you nodded slowly. “Then... I’ll go.” You responded hesitantly. You bit your lip nervously as you continued to think, before speaking again. “But I would like to meet the others before we go so I don’t make things weird or awkward.” 

Noctis grinned and nodded. “Sounds good. You can come over to my place and meet Ignis soon.” He mentioned, beginning to guide you there before you could even argue. 

Fortunately, you got to meet Ignis and become well acquainted with him, and momentarily met Gladio before the next morning. The only one that you knew almost nothing about was Prompto. The three of them mentioned him occasionally, but they never gave a lot of insight into him.

You weren’t quite sure what to expect as the five of you gathered that morning. You didn’t know what he looked like, how he acted, nor how he even sounded. It was a gamble, and you were a little nervous. Noctis mentioned something about him being a lot like you, which made you feel a little better, at least you weren’t going to be the only commoner among royalty. 

When you first saw him, you were slightly taken aback. He was... Cute. His freckled skin, his messy blond hair, the odd but stylish outfit he wore, it clashed together in a surprisingly adorable way. Not to mention he was so awkward around you, it was heart warming. 

Throughout the beginning of the trip, through all the troubles you faced, you felt yourself become closer with Prompto. He made you laugh and blush a lot, and often tried to lift the mood no matter how hard things got. It was a relief to have someone like him around, him and Noctis together balanced the seriousness of the rest of the group. He was also talented when it came to machinery and guns... You admired him, since you were rather inexperienced yourself. 

Noctis noticed how the two of you became closer. You constantly joked around and teased other members of the team together, as well as practicing fighting together. He felt something burning in his chest at the sight, but refused to admit it was jealousy. No... Why would Noctis be jealous of his two best friends getting along? That’s crazy, he was happy for you both.

...Until he wasn’t happy anymore. Your jokes and teasing ended up turning into flirtatious remarks. Your touches lingered on each other. Whenever you both made a joke, your eyes would go to each other to see if you were laughing... Suddenly, the two of you were infatuated with each other and Noctis definitely didn’t appreciate it.

It showed in his mood and attitude, too. He wasn’t particularly happy that the two of you were getting along so well, the burning sensation in his chest would flare whenever the two of you were close. He was much grumpier and dreaded each day more and more. Noctis couldn’t really understand why he felt this way either... It didn’t make sense to him, they both were his friends, he should be happy that the two of you are getting along, right?

That is, until he finally realized why. Noctis finally managed to find you alone. No Prompto, no giggling or scheming, just you, by yourself. A soft sigh of relief left his lips as he approached you from behind. You seemed to be sitting on the edge of a cliff, your legs dangling as you admired the view. “Are you feeling okay? It’s not every day you find someone hanging off a cliff.” He remarked smoothly as he approached. 

His voice caused you to flinch, snapping you out of your dazed state. “Oh... Yeah, I’m alright. Just thinking, that’s all.” You replied, patting the spot on the ground next to you. Noctis hesitantly took a seat next to you, the two of you basking in the nature-esque silence. His eyes slowly examined the sight in front of him, it was easy to see the Disc almost clearly, as well as the distant mountains where Lestallum resided. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You pointed out, smiling as you swung your legs over the edge. 

Noctis’ gaze turned to you slowly after taking in the entire sight. That’s when it hit him. The way your skin absorbed the sunlight, the way your hair reflected it and shined. The way the wind blew a gentle breeze, causing your eyes to shut as you inhaled the fresh air. You looked so... Ethereal, peaceful, like this is what you’ve wanted your whole life. It was breath-taking. You were breath-taking. 

A shaky breath left his lips as he searched for an answer, desperately trying to remember what the two of you were talking about. “Y-Yeah...” He responded, his brows furrowing in confusion as you turned to looked at him. A blush formed on your cheeks, as you quickly looked away. 

“You know, I’m really glad I could come along. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to fit in or anything like that... But your friends are so nice.” You murmured softly, changing the subject. Noctis nodded hesitantly and turned back to the scenery, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“Right... It’s a good thing you guys are getting along. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He lied, trying to go along with the conversation. Eventually, the two of you fell into a somewhat awkward silence. There were things left unsaid, you both were aware of it, but no one wanted to take the risk and talk about it, so you left it alone. 

Eventually, your time in silence was interrupted by a certain blond. He came trotting up the hill and grinned once he saw the both of you. “Mornin’.” He greeted, taking a seat on the other side of you. Noctis went deafeningly silent, the burning sensation growing in his chest again. 

You, on the other hand, returned the bright smile that Prompto wore. “Good morning.” You chirped, bumping your shoulder with his. Why didn’t you greet Noctis like that? Confusion formed on his features. Had he been replaced? As you and Prompto started a conversation, Noctis could feel himself being swallowed up by this... Selfish desire. Why hadn’t he realized sooner that he liked you? Why didn’t you ever notice? Surely he didn’t hide it that well. No... He couldn’t blame you. What if you had liked him this entire time and he had no clue? Maybe you moved onto someone who was more like you... But-

His thoughts were cut off when you gently nudged him with your shoulder. “You okay, man?” Prompto asked, the both of you wearing similar looks of concern. Noctis raised a brow in concern. 

“You looked upset... And we were talking to you, also.” You pointed out, gently rubbing his back. “Wanna talk about it?” You asked. Noctis slowly shook his head and turned away from the two of you, standing and frowning. 

“No... It’s alright, I’m still exhausted from yesterday.” He explained, shoving his hands in his pockets and beginning to head off. You and Prompto shared the same look of concern and confusion, the two of you hopping up to follow him immediately. 

“Hey, Noct... You know you can talk to us, right? We’re your best friends, man! No judging here.” Prompto tried to lighten the mood, but Noctis simply brushed him off. 

“It’s alright, we have to head out soon, yeah?” Noctis pointed out, running his fingers through his hair. Slowly, he lowered his head and looked anywhere else but the two of you. “I’ll see you back at camp.” He muttered, leaving you both behind. 

A quiet sigh left your lips as you looked up at Prompto, tilting your head to the side when you noticed he was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?” You asked softly, realizing his lips were turned downwards. 

Prompto shrugged and crossed his arms. “The last time I saw Noctis this bad was when he was jealous over something.” He began, almost seeming to be thinking out loud. “If that’s what’s wrong this time... What’s he jealous over now?” He asked out loud, glancing over at you and searching for an answer. 

“...Could it be because we’re so close now?” You asked, shrugging. “I mean, maybe he feels left out? I dunno.” You explained, kicking the rocks on the ground as the two of you wandered back to camp.

“I mean, I guess? But that still seems like... Out of character, I guess.” He explained, frowning. “I dunno. We’ll just have to bully it outta him.” Prompto joked, smirking as you giggled mischievously. 

The conversation wasn’t brought up again later, when the group decided to stay at an inn again. While Ignis, Prompto and Gladio figured out sleeping arrangements, you slowly strolled up next to Noctis, gently nudging him with your elbows. “Hey, what’s up? You’re not seeming like yourself lately.” You murmured, looking up at him curiously. 

He raised a brow and looked over at you, before wincing and shaking his head. “I... It’s nothing.” He sighed, waving you off. “Don’t worry about it?” Noctis muttered, the same grumpy tone coming back. 

“Come on... We can talk about it somewhere else if you want. I think I saw a haven not far from here, it had a pretty cool view.” You explained, trying to convince him to come along. Noctis sighed, knowing very well that he couldn’t say no to you. 

The two of you snuck off together, eventually arriving at the nearby haven. You took a seat near the edge and looked off to the forested area below the haven, waiting for Noctis to finally catch up and sit next to you. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, before you finally looked over at him. “So...” You started, trying to break the awkward silence between the two of you. “How have you been?” You asked, knowing it was a terrible question to ask.

He let out a sigh as he stared off at the sky. His mind was trying to work out how he would explain what happened. How exactly was he supposed to admit that he had a huge crush on you that managed to evolve into some weird jealousy hate thing for Prompto, his other best friend? He winced as you looked at him expectantly, forcing out a simple answer. “Uh... I’ve been, uh, pretty okay. How about you?” He asked, mentally face-palming. 

You nodded hesitantly. Well, that was better than nothing. You decided to not press on further, silently hoping that he would start the conversation. The air around the two of you was so tense... You felt like you were going to suffocate soon.

Noctis didn’t show it, but he felt the same way. Occasionally, he’d open his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. He started to grow frustrated. He couldn’t remember the last time he had trouble with this... Why now, of all times? Finally, he groaned and glared down at the ground. “You wanna know why I’m upset?” He started, causing you to turn and look over at him with a confused expression. “Because out of everyone I could end up jealous over, it had to be my best friend. Why, you’re probably asking? Well, it’s because of my other best friend.” He muttered stubbornly. 

You stared at him, a confused look forming as he continued to speak. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following.” You admitted awkwardly.

“It’s...” He sighed, pushing his pride out of the way. “It’s because of you and Prompto, dammit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want to admit it, but the way you two are together... You guys are better friends than you two and I ever were. And I know how Prompto gets... He sees someone and suddenly, he’s like, in love! And I don’t want him to be in love with you. It’s selfish, but I don’t. Out of all the women that he meets, why did he have to go and fall in love with the same person I fell in love with?” He ranted, shaking his head. 

You could feel a blush creeping up on your skin the more he spoke, causing you to hide your face by looking away. “You... You l-like me?” You stammered out of shock, as if you were still processing it all. “Wait, you’re jealous of Prompto? I thought you were jealous of me... I’m still confused.” You confessed with a sigh. 

“I like you, alright? Prompto was going to steal you away from me, and I couldn’t stop myself from getting jealous.” He admitted fully, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin things between us, or between you and Prompto. I think I said too much...” He groaned, shaking his head. 

While you were still processing his entire confession, Noctis ended up standing, preparing to head back. “...We should go.” He muttered, trying to pull you out of your confused daze. You glanced back at him, hesitantly nodding as you stood again. 

“Y...Yeah...” You responded, gathering yourself and following along with him. For most of the time, you both were in silence. Noctis seemed to be relieved that he finally got all of that out, and actually felt better now. Meanwhile, you were still comprehending everything that just happened in the last twenty minutes. Noctis liked you? Like, like-liked you? You? Just a commoner? Still highly confused, you felt yourself beginning to piece everything together since you first met. His gazes, he never really looked at you like a friend. He spent so much time with you after you first met, he took you almost everywhere. But he was getting married soon, wasn’t he? How could the two of you have a relationship like this...? 

“...Noctis.” You whispered hesitantly, looking up at him with a slightly troubled expression. “If you do like me... Like, actually... What about your wedding?” You asked softly, your brows furrowing as you looked down at the ground. 

He let out a soft sigh as he slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure... I don’t know what to do about anything at the moment.” He confessed, staring up at the sky. 

You nodded hesitantly. “Right... I guess that makes sense.” You responded, unsure of how else to respond. The two of you continued to walk in silence. Countless thoughts filled both of your minds, the two of you trying to find a solution for any of this mess, but neither of you came up with anything. Sighing softly, you reached out and took his hand without saying a word. 

Noctis raised his brows in surprise as he looked down at your hands, noticing how you seemed to be casual about it. A smile tugged at his lips as he allowed his fingers to wrap around yours, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. He could worry about everything later, right? This is what he needed now... He needed you.

[duskypinkbow]

All Love II Jeff Wittek

word count: 3k-ish (she a big baaaby)

summary: I got inspired by All Love by Fletcher... so I guess that explains it?...

note: English isn't my first language.. so plss excuse my mistakes ✨

tw: mention of drugs, drinking (tell me if there are more?)

Jeff’s and your story goes way back. Him being a friend of one of your older cousins, made his face a familiar one in your neighborhood. Although you didn’t see him very often nor interacted with him in any way, you knew who he was. You remembered his face, recognized his eyes and always reminded yourself of his beautiful smile. He was the barber boy from the shop across the street. The handsome guy from around the corner, involved in far too many erroneous decisions. You saw him cutting peoples hair, always admiring his work ethic at such a young age. You heard your cousin dropping his name in stories he told you and your siblings about stuff they did together, for which they did or did not get caught for. Jeff Wittek wasn’t a stranger to you, but you wouldn’t consider him a friend either. 

That changed when you reconnected with him a few years later. Both of you chasing your dreams in Miami Beach, not knowing from each other's presence in the city of the sun. The two of you bumped into each other at a party, hosted by one of Jeff’s closest friends, who coincidentally also was an acquaintance of one of your friends. As you spotted him in the crowd of people, smoking a cigarette you assured yourself that he couldn’t recall who you were. For one thing because he was fairly intoxicated and for another thing because you didn’t even know if he knew your name in the first place. You being the little cousin of one of his friends from back home. Why would he even remember your face?

Even though you were sure that he wouldn’t recognize you, you tried your best to avoid an encounter with him. Whenever he looked in your direction, you quickly turned away. When he somehow came closer to where you were, you searched for an excuse to disappear. You didn’t even know why you were so afraid and nervous to stand in front of him, but you continued your hiding nonetheless.

After a very successful night of preventing to meet him, and after you saw him leave the party, you decided it was time to celebrate your performance with a drink. You went to the nearest bar and tried to order yourself a cocktail when a tall man decided to fill the empty space next to you. „Heeeyy“ he introduced himself while he semi-leaned towards your small frame, his hands placed on the counter. „Hi“ you responded shortly, smiling with closed lips as you noticed it was him who was standing right next to you.  

Although your eyes deliberately went in the opposite direction than he was standing, he reclined back and squinted his eyes before he asked you „do I know you?“. You quickly shook your head and nervously tapped on the counter in front of you. „I don’t think so…“ you answered, still not returning his gaze. His eyes scanned your figure up and down before he pointed at you and rephrased his statement „I do know you!“ now sure about his cognizance. „I think you are mistaking me…“ you uttered tremulously, your hands fidgeting with your own fingers. Your level of uncomfortableness increasing by the minute, as his inebriated breath created a veil around your face. „I do…“ he objected trying very hard to recollect his memory. 

„Shiiiit..“ he spit out when he finally realized, elongating on the vocal „you’re from back home right?“ he spluttered before he put one of his hands on your shoulder to use you as a strut, demising the possibility of him falling down. You let out a little gasp as your gaze went to his hand. Looking at his long fingers nestling your naked shoulder. „You are from Staten Island! Aren’t ya’?“ he questioned you, exaggerating on his accent, his hand back on the counter and a big smile decorating his face, now very sure about his recognition. You breathed out at the sudden loss of physical contact. „Holy shit you really grew up, didn’t ya’?“ he mentioned while he scanned your whole body again. „Fuck, does Leo know that you run around looking like that?“ his words spoken while he pointed his finger at your outfit, a cigarette placed between his digits.

Still intimidated by the tall brunette standing next to you, you cleared your throat, gathered all your strength and spoke up „…that's not of his concern“. You breathed out, looking for the bartender, pleased and proud of your confident demeanor. Although you didn’t look at him, you noticed how his smile got even bigger, showing his perfect teeth as he finished the last pull of his smoke. „Well, certainly not anymore huh?“ he admitted right before he called the bartender, apparently another friend of his, to order drinks for the two of you.

During the rest of the night he didn’t left your side for one second. He told you about his friends, explained what he was doing if he wasn’t attending parties and gave you an extensive heads-up about places you shouldn’t go to. You friendly declined his offer of him walking you home but surrendered as he insisted on doing it anyways. Since your friend, which promised you to go home together, left the party with a random dude, it was safer for you to be accompanied by Jeff then going home all by yourself. „I hope to see you around y/n..“ he confessed when he was about to leave your apartment building. You took a last look into his eyes, nodded and let him vanish in the darkness of the night.

Although you tried your best not to spend much time with Jeff, you couldn’t avoid the fact that the two of you grew inevitably closer. Part of the reason being that two of your friends started dating, which particularly forced you to spend more time together. And the other one being that both of you shared the same hometown, which made you just relate to one another on a level no-one could really understand. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy Jeff’s company, but you wouldn’t admit to it either. Neither to your friends and certainly not to Jeff himself. 

In virtue of your and his friends group colliding you found yourself run in the wrong circle of people. The ones your family and especially your cousin Leo always warned you about. But Jeff, keeping his promise to Leo, watched out for you and tried his best to keep you out of the affairs. He always told you not to try the drugs some of your friends were doing, although it were his friends that brought them to the table. He revealed horror stories of downfalls some of his friends had, while you saw the same things happening to your acquaintance. He tried his best to keep you on the right path. And his effort finally made you realize, that Miami isn’t the right place for you. 

One night when all of your and his friends were partying in a penthouse, he begged you not to drink too much. Even though you were extremely annoyed by all the restrictions he already made for you, you obeyed him, not wanting that night to end in an argument. So instead of getting drunk, to keep up with intoxicated people, you just drank until you felt a little tipsy. You thought he just wanted to keep his promise to Leo. That he didn’t want you to do something stupid that you would regret someday. But in reality he just wanted you to be at least semi-sober for the very first kiss he was about to give you that very night. 

He walked you home, a habit the two of you adapted during the last few weeks of being friends. He gave you his jacket, embracing you in warmth filled with a mixture of the smell of cigarettes but most importantly his incomparable sent. He tried to take smaller steps for you, since your small body couldn’t keep up with his pace. And that in spite of getting more and more nervous with every street the two of you passed. He felt his heart beat faster with every step he took. His fingers getting shaky as he brought you closer to your place. 

When you finally stood in front of your entrance, searching for your keys, he took them out of his pocket. „Looking for those doll?“ he asked, swallowing away all the insecurities he had before and making a small step in your direction. You nodded lightly at the sight of your keys, a strand of hair falling down in front of your face. Jeff stepped forward and put the keys in the looker, your back now pressed against the entrance of your apartment. 

You looked up into his darkened brown eyes, your lips parted as you breathed out slowly, feeling his somewhat alcoholized breath against your skin. „Fuck…“ he said with his raspy voice, making you smell the drink he has drunk that evening. You swallow your uncertainty, your head fell back on the door just by the thought of tasting the liquor his lips enjoyed just hours ago. He breathed out, his gaze still focused on you „I promised Leo to protect you…“ he started slowly. „Keeping an eye on you…“ he continued while putting the fallen down strand of hair back behind your ear. „Making sure you don’t get in trouble…“ getting more and more quiet and closer to your face with every word he spoke. „But fuck y/n…“ his arms now resting on each side of your head, as if there is a protective shield around your body that doesn’t allow him to touch you. His lips not even an inch away from yours now „I can’t resist you anymore…“ he whispered almost inaudibly before he broke the guarding shield by pressing his lips on yours. You tasted the smoke on his tongue, the booze on his lips and the lust in his quiet moans. He pressed you against your door, your hands tangled up in his hair while he lifted you up, pulled you closer by your waist and opened the door for you to finally get in.

The two of you thought it was the first and last time that this had happened. But after just that one breathtaking night you shared, tangled up in your sheets, both of you carved for more. Therefore, drunk hookups turned into casually sleeping with each other. Eventually even when sober. You tried to keep it a secret, but the looks you gave each other and the ‘coincidently going home at the same time’ - every time - made your friends catch on rather fast. There was no denying that you had a thing for each other. But it was never anything too serious. Both of you just living in the moment. No rush and no need to put labels on a thing that could change any second. It was a fast life you had on the east coast. And it changed way faster than each one of you could have imagined. 

After all you had to end your little ongoing amorous adventure for the simple reason that life had other plans for you. An opportunity to fulfill your career dreams coaxed you to move away. So that’s what you did. Leaving the barber boy alone in the city of the sun.  And since you’ve been gone, shit quickly went down for him. Though you kept in touch with each other and though you  told him ‚not to fuck up‘ , he changed when you left. So it wasn’t even a surprise when your cousin called you to tell you, that Jeff had to go to jail.

-

A few years later you sat in one of your favorite bars, enjoying the night with some of your  closest friends. Pleased with where you were in live and what you have achieved in those past few years. You worked your butt off just to celebrate your promotion for a highly regarded position. A thousand cups of coffee, endless sleepless nights and sacrificed relationships finally paid off, just so you can finally celebrate your accomplishment. Yet your mood to party shifted when you saw a familiar face entering the crowded room. Happiness overcame you for a second, while you looked into those known and unmatchable deep brown eyes. How long has it been? You questioned yourself. Wanting nothing more than to catch up with the handsome man who you haven’t seen in ages. 

But your mood quickly changed after you saw him holding hands with another girl, walking right behind him. It took a while for him to notice your presence in-between those random faces, but after your eyes met he didn’t hesitate to make his way up to you. And before your brain could deal with the situation and even before your feelings could cope with the shock, he was already standing in front of you. „Y/n!“ he said in excitement, giving you a one-armed hug. Yet that’s enough for you to take in his acquainted scent. Even though there is no more indication for the smell of cigarettes, it brought back so many old memories. 

You tried to say something, but there was an ache in your throat that prevented you from making a sound. „She is an old friend of mine…“ he explained and avoided the possibility of an awkward moment of silence as well as introducing you to the girl which was standing right by his side. You waved at her, smiling politely after she introduced herself to you „How have you been?“ he asked you curiously with a big smile on his face, eyes lighten up when he put one of his arms around his company. You hesitated for a second, eyes pierced at his hand curving around the waist of the woman in his hold. Trying to manage the situation before you finally began to talk „I’m…“ you start, returning his gaze before recollecting yourself once again and starting anew, „I’m doing fine…“ you lied, a convincing smile conjured up on your face to conceal the sadness which was building up inside of you. „We should-“ he started, right before someone of his friends screamed his name. He apologized genuinely for the sudden interruption. However, he promised to catch up with you through the course of the night, before he left you and you friends alone.

„Who was that?“ a friend of yours asked you abuzz in excitement. „An old friend…“ you answered with a crack in your voice. Purposely repeating his words as your gaze followed his figure. You felt your throat closing with every step he took bringing distance between your bodies. You bit your inner lip, your eyes close to tears. But instead of drowning in melancholy you remembered the reason for your celebration. So you tried to stop the waiter just to ask her „Can we get another round of shots please?“

With every shot you took, you tried to forget about the looks he used to give you, when your eyes met his. Tried to forget about those late night walks on the beach, admiring the stars and talking about anything and everything. To forget how loved he made you feel when you shared a bed with him and spend days not leaving it. With every shot you just wanted to numb your heart the same way that the burning liquor was actually just numbing your brain. 

It wasn’t a secret that you thought about him from time to time. His name popped in your head whenever you talked to your cousin, which wasn’t as often as it used to be, yet you asked yourself what Jeff has been up to, when Leo didn’t mention him. Because he was indeed your favorite memory of your days in Miami. Still wondering if your name ever crosses his mind. If he remembers the moments the two of you shared with each other. If those were happy reminiscences, or if you were not more than just a short fling for him. 

As the night went on you tried not to be too obvious about your looks towards his new group of friends. However you were too nosey about where he was or what he was doing. That’s when you saw his face buried in the nape of her neck. He gave her little kisses on her throat until he made his way up to her lips. His eyes small, dimples deep and just full of happiness. The smile which was plastered on his face, one you knew just too well. Yet it wasn’t determined for you anymore. It felt like a thousand knives were stabbed in your body all at once. Like your lungs cut off all your air, stopping you from breathing, making you suffocate from the pain. You smiled approvingly at her after she glanced at you. Her eyes full of happiness, while yours almost begun to fill with tears. 

Before things could get worse your body robotically squeezed itself through the masses of people until you made your way outside, trying to gasp for some air. Whilst you took a deep breath you felt your body calming down again. 

You gave your thoughts the chance to understand and tried to comprehend the situation as you went to a nearby parking lot. Although you know you shouldn’t do it, your mind made you question yourself. What does she got that you don’t have? Comparing your noticeable similarities and your striking differences. Your eyes almost the same color. Is it because she is taller than you? Your hair about the same length. Or because she has a cuter nose then yours? After a few more terrible comparisons you realized that it doesn’t lead to anything. Besides everything that made him fall for her, she also had the courage to fall for the man you’ve always admired. 

Your gaze went up to the sky, trying to see at least some starts in between the dirty nightlights. A few tears fell down your cheek as you thought about your days in Miami. But instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to be happy for your friend. That, regardless how many wrong decisions he made, it ended more then well for him.

Right before you came clean with that and made your way back to the bar to continue the celebration, a familiar voice stopped you.

"y/n?"

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 5: I Didn’ Ask (Written Chapter)

word count: 1.7k

Atsumu Miya was handsome, that was an undeniable truth. So naturally it would make sense that his identical twin brother would be, well, identical - and yet, you couldn't help the state of shock you found yourself in as you stood before him, your once buckling knees relieved of their pressure as his very large arms grab the box from your hands with a grunt ('lemme take that, looks heavy'). In all honesty, the fact that he was that good looking pissed you off, and watching him be kind, albeit taciturn, to you after bullying you for a month straight on Twitter (okay, fine, it was a mutual bullying, but he definitely started it) only made your scowl deepen. Your eyes narrowed at his back and you turned toward the van with a huff, finding another, perhaps lighter box to take inside.

  "This place has been collecting dust for years, ya sure you guys can make it work?" Miya's voice was deep and rich, every syllable dripped with his Kansai accent. The unfamiliar sound made your chest bubble and you had to stop yourself from outwardly groaning in frustration. You crossed the threshold of the new place and your mouth fell open as you took in the shops current state.

The shop was- well, let's just say there was a reason it was so cheap. Even still, your eyes glittered at the potential you saw. The exposed beams looked in near mint condition as the sun filtered through the windows and soaked the unstained wood in a warm morning glow. It was empty, save for some appliances that definitely looked antique (the thought of being able to restore them made you drool), but the space had more than enough room for café style seating, and maybe even a section for a corner library or a stage for live music. The stairs to the two bedroom apartment that resided directly above the shop space, where you would be living, was tucked away in a hallway off to the side. You made a mental note to make sure it was a bit more livable than the current shop situation downstairs, and motioned for him to settle the boxes along the main counter.

"We're planning on restoring the kitchen within a few weeks, then setting up a pop up stand out front to make revenue while we renovate the rest. Hoping to be fully open come summer." He merely hummed in response as he brushed off the dust left on his hands. You were caught up in your own world, detailing in your brain every minute detail you planned on changing when Kuguri stumbled in through the front door, giant box obscuring his vision as he tripped over the step. "Ah, careful, looks fragile." Miya rushed over to help, taking the box and allowing Kuguri to steady himself. Kuguri blinked, warmth hitting his cheeks as he mumbled a small thank you.

“Don’ mention it,” came Miya’s slightly strained reply as he set the box down next to the others. The room fell into a less than comfortable silence and you tried to look anywhere other than at the man currently standing in your dining area. Kuguri cleared his throat and tightened the grip on his suitcase as he made his way over the stairs. "I'm gonna go check out the apartment. I'll be back in a bit." You shot him a pleading look but he mouthed a quick 'sorry' and scurried off, leaving you alone with the Other Twin.

More uncomfortable silence. You felt warmth rush to your face as you grew more flustered with each beat, neither of you willing to break the tension that had been slowly pervading the air around you like a dense fog. The suffocation ended up winning out over your stubbornness and you turned your head to look at him, embarrassment flooding at the sight of his eyes already on you.

"Uh, thanks, you know, for the help." He gave you a tight, forced smile, uttered a quick 'yer welcome', and began to make his way towards the side entrance. Arms crossed in front of you as you watched him open the door, the tiny alleyway and side entrance to his own shop coming into view. Miya paused at the open door and turned his head to look over at you, a smirk settling on his face.

"By the way, little creepy of ya to stalk us and rent out the space next to us. What are ya lookin' for here? I hope you know this new development doesn't change anythin' between us." Your eyes widened at the sudden change, your brain working overtime to try to process what he said. Once you had caught up to the moment, you scoffed.

"Oh please, Miya, as if. The world doesn't revolve around you. We bought this place over a month ago." His eyes shone with something you couldn't quite place and he let out a small chuckle, one that sounded far too innocent in comparison to his hard gaze. "Whatever you say, Paradis." You scrunched your nose at the familiar nickname, shaking your head.

"Don't call me that; I have a name, you know." Miya turned around to face you fully then, the smirk ever present as he leaned against the frame, his hand still grasping the handle to the shop door. "Ah yeah? You guys don' mention names on your Twitter, and I was always too (again, petty) lazy to bother lookin' it up," he drawled, deepening your frown in response.

"It's L/n Y/n." Miya's lazy smile upturned ever so slightly.

"Ah, I didn' ask, but thanks." 

Embarrassment crashed over you once again and you felt the heat creep up your neck and ears. Your glare seemed to be filled to the brim with hellfire as you bore holes into his back. He turned to leave, and you followed after him, taking hold of the doorknob and watching him make the short distance back to Onigiri Miya's side entrance.

"I noticed you call me Miya, it's quite formal of you,” he noted, now at his own door. You let out a less-than-ladylike snort and waved your hand. "I wasn't being formal - coincidentally, I just also didn't bother looking it up." He laughed then, and it was a nice laugh, and you hated how nice it was with every fiber of your being.

"Osamu," he said, the smugness oozing off him, as if you were just dying to know his name and he decided to humor you. You stepped backward to make room for the door.

"Ah, I didn' ask, but thanks," you mocked, accent and all. You threw a shit eating grin and a quick wave his way before promptly shutting the door. When you saw what seemed like the five stages of grief cross his face in a span of a few seconds, you knew that putting Osamu Miya in his place was going to become your favorite past time.

Based on the way you two had tweeted each other over the last month, Osamu had deduced that you were probably a woman. What he wasn't expecting, however, was just how cute you ended up being. If you had been anyone else he probably would have been nothing short of a perfect gentleman; carrying all the boxes, smooth talking his way through conversation, and working himself up to asking you out. Unfortunately for him, though, there was just something about you that got under his skin, and he genuinely couldn't figure out what it was.

Osamu stood alone in the alleyway, giving himself a moment to process the last forty-five minutes of his life. Paradis Bakery, the company he's been openly beefing with on Twitter for the world to see, not only opened a second location in Osaka, but moved directly beside Onigiri Miya, in the place he had been looking into purchasing for at least six months now. The abandoned café was supposed to be a plan B in case Tokyo had to be pushed off for a few more years - being able to expand Onigiri Miya would have been huge for them if they couldn't swing the Tokyo location, and Kita had been more than open to the idea of expanding. When you said you purchased the café over a month ago, he remembered inquiring about the place at least two weeks prior to Atsumu's visit to your bakery, and the owner mentioning that someone had put in an offer. The sheer coincidence honestly creeped him out more than anything; he didn't like the feeling that fate was behind this because if it was - why?

Osamu shook off the goosebumps and decided he'd worry about fate intervening when it actually decided to do so. Turning toward his own shop, he hustled into the store with tense shoulders and a furrowed brow. Why was he so worked up? He's well aware that he's the one who started the whole social media war between you, and it's not like you guys actually had any reason to hate each other - you were just doing it for the attention. So why does he have this familiar feeling of contempt coursing through him at the mere thought of you?

"Osamu, are you okay? Ya sleep well?" Osamu snapped his attention to Kita, who was standing in the kitchen, already beginning food prep for the day. Kita's knife paused its assault on the spring onions as he waited for an answer.

"Ah, yeah, I slept fine Kita. Ya meet the new neighbors?" Kita nodded, resuming his ministrations. If you didn't know Kita, you would have just assumed the polite smile was just that - Osamu knew better though, and the slight upturn had a hint of what looked like mischief behind it. He gulped at the thought of Kita plotting.

"I met L/n. She's very nice." Osamu face scrunched at the mention of your name, which didn't go unnoticed by Kita, who's eyebrow shot up in surprise.

 "You don't like her?"

"She's...fine." Osamu walked into the kitchen, putting on his apron as he washed his knife in preparation for the salmon.

"Honestly, I'm surprised, I thought you'dve taken a likin' to her if anything." Osamu grunted in response. "I dunno what it is, but there's just somethin' that rubs me the wrong way."

"Give it time, she may warm up to ya."

Osamu doubted that.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun Facts - 

Tendou got an earful when you called him that day, and he bit back a laugh every time you angrily mentioned how hot Osamu was (’Oh my god his face??? his arms??? Why’s the universe gotta have favoritism for the worst people’) 

After hours, Kita also got an earful from Osamu - and he also had to cover his smile with his hand whenever Osamu angrily mentioned how cute you looked when you scrunched your face up. (’-and then she snorted, actually /snorted/, at me and while it was adorable it was rude as hell. She’s rude as hell, Kita.)

Kuguri rushed upstairs partly because he couldn’t stand the tension, but mainly because he wanted first dibs on bedrooms. 

A/N: ahhh I’m SO sorry for such a long wait, I never intended to take nearly a whole ass week to post - I started a new job this week with weird hours so I had to adjust, plus this chapter actually gave me a little bit of grief haha (thank you lark for pulling my head out of my ass multiple times). But exciting things happen!! Y/n finally meets osamu and its awkward and annoying and they’re both so hot what do we do oh no~ I’m very excited to see how their relationship progresses through the next few chapters lol. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy, feel free to pop into my asks if you want to talk about the fic, or your day, or would like to be added to the taglist!! As always, thank you so much for reading, I love you guys!

Taglist -

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy @k3nma-fairy @jewlmin @tabipleats​ @kaleidoscopekai​

[amaranthinecanicular]

and the name for your order is

The guy snarls his order, and Kirishima is glad because clearly he's an unrepentant dick to everyone, not just Amajiki. It's easier to come to terms with than he thought it would be. “And your name?” he says, plucking a cup from the stack and uncapping the marker with his teeth.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

“Oh no,” says Kirishima, because oh no, he likes this guy. It's one of those sudden revelations that takes him by the throat and shakes him down. Who wants to know, he says, as though it wasn't obvious. Who wants to know. So absurdly aggressive it ends up amusing instead of intimidating. Endearing, even.

[My belated @fyeahbnha secret santa gift for @pointy-hat-witch! Please enjoy, and happy holidays!!!]

[Alternatively read on ao3.]

OCTOBER 

Fat Gum’s Café has a new customer.

Well. Not new, exactly. He's been showing up for the last two weeks or so but only on days Kirishima wasn’t working. The news shared by his coworkers more closely resemble war stories than work gossip, ranging exclusively from horrible to terrible. 

“He’s the scariest person I’ve ever met in my life,” says Amajiki.

“He’s like a sentient piece of crap rolled up in a garbage can and set on fire,” says Kaminari.

“He makes Give me a mocha double espresso sound like an order of execution,” says Amajiki.

“He’s rude and violent and he has no honor,” says Tetsutetsu.

“If he’s not actually a demon sent from the depths of hell to torture me specifically I would be very surprised,” says Amajiki. Most of the stories are from Amajiki.

Kirishima is dying to meet him, in part to defend his friends’ honor and in part to put a face to the legend. Luckily, the start of the new quarter means new classes at new times, and that means new work hours. What was originally a Tuesday-Thursday-Friday-Sunday schedule shifts to a Monday-Wednesday-Saturday schedule. Kirishima feels bad about that. He likes the coffee shop, likes his coworkers, likes his boss. If he could ace his tests and help out at Fat Gum’s every day he would, but he can't. His grades are dragging.

On the bright side, he meets their local celebrity, like, immediately.

It’s his first Saturday on the job. He knows it’s about to go down when he finds Amajiki attempting to assimilate himself into the storage closet. 

“He's back,” says Amajiki, doing an excellent impression of coffee grounds quaking in fear. “If I have to deal with him again I'll die, I'll just die. Tell Mirio and Hadou I said goodbye. I'm sorry, Kirishima-kun, I can't do it.”

Poor guy. Amajiki is convinced this dude is terrorizing him deliberately, which Kirishima sincerely hopes isn't true. Anyone who would go out of their way to frighten serious, hardworking, anxious Amajiki must be a monster.

As if to punctuate this point, someone out at the front begins to brutalize the counter bell. To be fair, they really shouldn't leave it unmanned.

“Don't sweat it, senpai,” Kirishima says. He doesn't give Amajiki the manly clap to the shoulder that he wants to—Amajiki isn't so good with physical contact from anyone other than Togata or Hadou. “I'll handle the problem customer.”

Amajiki peeks at Kirishima through coffee filters and the dark wedge of his fringe. “You—you mean it?” 

“Sure do. I like a challenge.”

He flashes his brightest smile. Amajiki squints a little at the force of it. 

:

Kirishima is honestly surprised that the poor bell isn’t dented by the time he comes to its rescue. 

“About fucking time,” says the problem customer. He's got riotous blond hair and a scowl on his face like it's been carved there. There's a grenade logo sprayed on his baggy black tee, which makes sense, because one look at this guy brings to mind the word explosive.

“How may I help you, sir?” says Kirishima, with deliberate pep. Impossibly, impressively, the scowl cuts deeper. Like an attack—like he's never not on the offensive. That's fine. Kirishima’s smile will be his armor. 

The guy snarls his order, and Kirishima is glad because clearly he's an unrepentant dick to everyone, not just Amajiki. It's easier to come to terms with than he thought it would be. “And your name?” he says, plucking a cup from the stack and uncapping the marker with his teeth.

“Who the fuck wants to know?” says the customer.

“Oh no,” says Kirishima, because oh no, he likes this guy. It's one of those sudden revelations that takes him by the throat and shakes him down. Who wants to know, he says, as though it wasn't obvious. Who wants to know. So absurdly aggressive it ends up amusing instead of intimidating. Endearing, even.

Kirishima spits the cap out of his mouth. “I want to know. For your order, man.”

The problem customer narrows his eyes as though to peer through Kirishima’s question to the ulterior motives behind it, which is insane, since there are no ulterior motives to be found in the absolutely routine procedure of a coffee shop. Cheerfully oblivious seems to be getting under his skin, so Kirishima leans into it. “What if I forget who asked for the mocha double espresso?”

The customer rolls his eyes. He rolls his eyes violently. “Right, because I'm real fucking forgettable.”

“You could be.” The look he gets for that is entirely worth breaking the Customer Is Always Right creed. “We get a lot of traffic, man, it’s nothing personal.”

The customer braces himself on the counter and leans into Kirishima’s space. Instinct hooks in his spine and tries to reel him back a step or two, but he hardens his resolve into stone and ties it to his feet, weighs himself down, refuses to budge.

“You'll remember me,” the customer says. A promise like a threat, and for the first time in the duration of this exchange Kirishima feels seen by him. Acknowledged. It's the same feeling as scoring well on a test, or making a sad friend laugh. Hard-won and worth it. Kirishima can't stop the grin from breaking onto his face so he doesn't try to.

“Sure I will. I like you.”

And the look he gets for that, well, that's priceless.

“So that name?”

“Fuck off.” 

The guy recovers fast, that's for sure. Kirishima watches him skulk to the serving counter where he roots himself like a particularly irritable tree and barks at anyone who gets too close. The next customer gets an extra punch in her punch card for the wait, and when the guy's order is up, Kirishima is ready with a sharpie in hand. Amajiki has ventured back out to help with orders, steadfastly avoiding anything problem-customer-related, but he blanches when he sees what Kirishima is scribbling on the cup. “Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? Should I be getting you help?”

“Trust me,” Kirishima says. He caps the coffee and walks it to its rightful owner. “One mocha double espresso for Mr. Unforgettable.”

The guy snatches the cup. He stomps off without another word.

Thirty seconds later he stomps right back. 

“Blasty McSplode?”

Amajiki ducks under the counter. Kirishima, in the process of taking another order, smiles wide enough to cramp his cheeks.

“Hey! Back already?”

“Blasty Mc-Fucking-Splode?”

“You wouldn't give me your name. I had to take a stab at it myself. Was I close?”

“I'll show you taking a stab—”

Blasty rants and raves for a full minute, splashing mocha just about everywhere, until finally Fat Gum himself ambles out of his office to gently shoo him from the shop. Kirishima waves at him around Fat Gum’s bulk. Blasty waves his middle finger in response. When Fat Gum comes back in he raises an eyebrow at Kirishima, which, yeah, he definitely deserves, but he also passes a heavy hand through his carefully gelled hair to show that he's not really mad. Kirishima fixes his hair as best he can while Amajiki climbs out from under the counter.

“I can't believe he didn't kill you for that,” he says, his voice buffed by awe.

Kirishima gives the next customer's punch card an extra punch too. Hell, he gives her two extra punches. Why not? He's in a great mood.

:

Two days later Blasty stalks in and Kirishima can't believe his good fortune. He calls out a greeting from across the cafe and gets a glare in response, but that glare holds, a few seconds of extended eye contact, long enough to stay in Kirishima’s belly after it's ended and flutter there.

Blasty growls his order. Kirishima asks for his name. Blasty tells him to go die and Kirishima scribbles Lord Explosion Murder on the cup. He's rewarded with a snort of amusement.

“Did you see that?” he gushes to Kaminari, after Blasty has left. “He totally laughed! He liked it!”

“I saw it I saw it ow stop hitting me!” Kaminari rubs the place on his shoulder that Kirishima had been slapping repeatedly. “I dunno, man. That sounded more like a scoff to me.”

Nah, he's pretty sure he was amused.

:

The next time he comes in, after the requisite exchange (“Your name for the order?” “Eat a dick,” “Cool cool I think I'd get fired if I wrote that but cool,”) Kirishima writes King Explosion Murder on the side of the cup. 

“Better,” Blasty huffs.

Kirishima feels like cloud-walking for the rest of the day. Kaminari isn’t on shift, but when Kirishima texts him, he texts back: “I stand corrected. When are you asking him out?”

“All in due time,” Kirishima promises his phone.

:

NOVEMBER

Blasty’s schedule: 

He shows up Monday mornings, rumpled by sleep and grouchier than usual, before he heads off to class. Wednesday evenings he drinks and studies until closing time. Saturday afternoons he sits at the window with a bento. Coincidentally these are the three days and times that Kirishima is on duty. And it must be coincidental, because if it's not then that means that Blasty memorized his schedule and molded his life accordingly, learned to fit him in, looks forward to seeing him three days out of the week. Kirishima may be an optimist, but he's not delusional. He knows how dangerous a daydream like that can be. 

He’s probably just here because it’s a good place to study. And there must be an exam coming up, because lately he’s been showing up with even more books than usual, and suitcases under his eyes instead of bags. He’s crabbier, too, which Kirishima didn’t think was possible and is honestly impressed by. By this point he has unofficially become the only one willing to serve him, but this wild-eyed evolution of Problem Customer into Demon Customer From Hell just clinches it.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Kirishima says, when he brings over Blasty’s third espresso in as many hours. It’s Saturday, usually Blasty’s day to sit and gaze out the window with one of his more pensive death glares, but today he’s entombed himself in a mountain of notes and textbooks. Kirishima nudges aside a few notebooks to make room for the cup.

“Maybe you should go fuck yourself with a rake,” says Blasty, without looking up from the violent strokes of his pen. “Touch my stuff again and I’ll kill you myself, shitty hair.” 

Watching from behind the counter, Amajiki wheezes with secondhand horror. Kirishima peers at the crowded table. “Hey, where’s your bento?”

Blasty slams his pen down. “Was I not clear enough, you moron? Fuck off! Leave me alone!”

Kirishima raises his hands in surrender. Blasty’s mouth opens as if to say something else, but nothing comes out. Maybe he’s realized he’s gone a step too far. They stare at each other for a beat, and then his jaw snaps shut. He jerks his head back to his books and Kirishima retreats to the counter. 

“He can’t speak to you like that,” Amajiki says, suddenly stern. He’s always braver on someone else’s account. “I’ll tell Fat Gum, he’ll understand. We don’t have to serve him. You don’t have to take his abuse.”

“The guy’s under a lot of stress,” Kirishima says. It’s overindulgent even for him, but when he glances over his shoulder he sees Blasty wrench his gaze away. “And I think he feels bad.”

Amajiki obviously doesn’t think so, but he says nothing more, which Kirishima appreciates. By closing time Blasty is the only customer left in the shop, still hunched over his books and writing furiously. Kirishima has given him his space, and he hasn’t asked for another coffee. Amajiki is still angry enough to go tell him they’re closing—he’ll even be properly intimidating about it—but Kirishima stops him.

“I’ll lock up,” he offers. Amajiki’s look of disapproval is a blow to Kirishima’s pride, but he stands firm. So Fatgum leaves, and Amajiki leaves, with a sigh and a firm promise that he’ll be on standby if Kirishima needs anything, and then the place is empty and it’s just him, Blasty, and the scritching sound of his pen.

Kirishima takes his time. He cleans up and Blasty keeps studying. He locks the doors and Blasty keeps studying. He sits down at a table across the cafe and gets some of his own homework done, and Blasty keeps studying. Then he goes back to the machines, knowing he’ll have to clean them again, and whips up a special drink. When he’s done, he writes FIGHT ON! where the name should go.

“I don't want your fucking charity,” Blasty says as he sets it down. 

“You’ve accepted it so far,” Kirishima points out blandly, gesturing to the very obviously closed cafe. Before Blasty can bite his head off, he continues, “Anyway, don't think of it as charity. Think of it as…an investment.”

“Investment in what?” His eyes are narrowed and very red, both in the iris and the bloodshot sclera. 

Kirishima weighs the pros and cons of his next move and decides to go for it. He hazards a wink. “In my future best customer.”

Blasty is unimpressed. Like, fatally unimpressed. Like, it's impressive how unimpressed he looks. Aggressively deadpan. He has to practice that look in the mirror.

But he takes the cup, and when Kirishima peeks at him later, he's smirking at the sharpie message. 

:

Monday morning sees Blasty quiet and terse, but civil. Civil for him, anyway. Kaminari is disturbed.

“What did you do?” he hisses once Blasty bulls out of the shop. 

“Nothing.” Even if he barely met Kirishima’s eyes. Not promising.

“Did you fight?”

“No.”

“Did he turn you down?”

“No. Dude, nothing happened.”

Kaminari raises his hands. For a minute they work in silence.

“So if you didn’t get turned down, are you gonna ask him out soon?”

Kirishima hands off an order, and then lets his customer service smile drop. “Now isn’t a good time. I’ve got to give him some space.”

“Okay, but what about all your fortune favors the manly stuff? Isn’t that the reason you got this far in the first place?”

“How far is that? I still don’t know his name.” He can feel Kaminari’s eyes on him, and he tries to rally. Picks up his smile and pastes it back on. “Hey, enough about me. How’s it going with you and Shinsou?”

Kaminari lights up. For the next twenty minutes he regales Kirishima—and the whole cafe—with his loud and maudlin romantic woes, all he’s so hot the bags under his eyes should not be so hot and his dry sense of humor is so hard to read and I think he’s flirting with me but I thought that with Jirou and she and Momo still won’t let me live it down. 

Kirishima listens and laughs and offers advice, and he does his job, and he doesn’t think about his grumpy favorite customer even once. Really he doesn’t.

:

When Blasty comes in on Wednesday, he looks well rested. Kirishima waves before getting back to orders. This is apparently not good enough for Blasty, because he scowls at the people in line and then stalks over to the serving counter and proceeds to glare daggers, like he expects Kirishima to just up and abandon his work to attend to him. Like, yeah, he wants to, but it wouldn’t be right. Even if Blasty scares other customers away from the counter. And even if Kirishima is getting steadily more distracted the longer he stares. 

On the third order he messes up, Tetsutetsu intervenes. 

“Go on,” he sighs, nudging Kirishima aside as the next customer steps up. “Make it fast, bro.”

Kirishima promises him a meat bun after work and hurries over. “Hey. You’re looking better. Did you ace the test?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

There’s a stalled moment. Kirishima taps his fingers on the counter. Blasty is visibly grinding his molars.

“Cool, so I’m gonna get back to work, I’ll make you your regular—”

“Last week,” Blasty starts. He bites out each word. “Last week, I was.” He stops, lips pressed tight and bloodless.

“An asshole,” Kirishima supplies.

Blasty hums low in his throat. Or he growls. Either way it’s as close to an admission as Kirishima is going to get, and it clearly took a hilarious amount of self restraint for even that much. 

Blasty clears his throat and says, “That drink you made. What was in it?”

Kirishima is a little thrown by the shift. “Xoaxacl chocolate, a little chili powder. I thought you might like an extra kick.”

“It wasn’t half bad.” There’s color along the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take one of those.”

Maybe Kirishima had been more upset by Blasty’s behavior on Saturday than he thought, because now he feels loads lighter, any old hurts dissipating like clouds under the sun. He smiles, and Blasty blinks a lot, the color spreading to his cheeks and his ears and down his throat.

“One special order, comin’ right up!”

Kirishima turns around and reaches for a cup and marker. And then, behind him: “Bakugou Katsuki.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

Blasty is rubbing roughly at his mouth. His whole face is glowing. “You heard me.”

“Bakugou,” says Kirishima, trying the taste on his tongue. Bakugou, full of plosives and hard consonants. “I love it. It suits you.”

Bakugou’s eyes snap wide, then narrow just as fast. “Why the fuck should I care what you think of my name? It doesn't need your approval, dipshit.”

When Kirishima is finished making his drink, Bakugou snatches it from his hand and whirls on his heel, a dramatic spray of foam following him out. Kirishima tingles where their fingers touched.

Then he watches Bakugou take a deep pull, and he has to go clean the latte machine before he’s murdered by the lethal and lovely line of Bakugou’s throat.

:

DECEMBER

“Y’know, I still don’t know what you study.”

“Probably because it’s none of your business.” 

“Right. Except how it kind of is literally my business, since I let you study here, in my place of work, after we’ve closed.”

This has become their ritual. On Saturdays Bakugou stay past closing, sometimes doing schoolwork, sometimes helping clean up, sometimes just chatting. He never stays past nine thirty—Kirishima has learned that he likes to turn in before ten every night, which is bizarrely adorable—but it doesn’t matter. Any amount of time with him is always going to feel like a blessing, and it’s never going to feel like enough.

“You’re not doing me any favors, shitty hair, get that thought out of your empty skull this instant.”

“Sure, sure.”

Kirishima finishes cleaning up. Once the last table is wiped down he sits heavily across from Bakugou, happy to finally be off his feet. His eyes feel swollen, too big for his skull. His grades have yet to pick up despite the extra hours of studying he’s been putting in. He presses his knuckles into his eyes for a moment of relief.

“I’m a med student.”

He blinks the colorless starbursts from his eyes. Bakugou, across from him, comes into focus: his head is still down, his gaze still fixed on his book. Sometimes he wears glasses, thick dark frames that Kirishima loves, and today is one of those days. He grins.

“No shit! You’re going to be a doctor?”

“A surgeon.” Some color rises in his ears; he looks pleased. Maybe because of how awed Kirishima sounds. But why wouldn’t he? Anyone working to help people is worthy of admiration, and manly as hell.

“Dude, that’s awesome. I’m studying to be a nurse.” 

The corner of Bakugou’s mouth twitches upward. “Nurses are badass.”

“I think so. You a doctor, me a nurse. I bet we’d make a good team.” 

Bakugou scoffs, even as pink starts to pool in his collarbones. Kirishima still doesn’t get why certain things make him flush, but he’s happy to learn. He rests his cheek in his hand and tries not to smile too dopily. “Y’know, for a med student you sure drink a lot of coffee. You know too much of this stuff is terrible for you, right?”

“I’m going to tell your boss you said that and get you fired.”

“That’s really not how it works.”

Bakugou’s glare is magnified by the glasses. He takes a long, aggressive sip of his drink—the strength it takes Kirishima not to burst out laughing is Herculean, truly, with the slurping and the deliberate eye contact and all, because only Bakugou could turn coffee into an intimidation tactic. Then he says, “Whatever. I'm invincible.”

Kirishima bursts out laughing. Bakugou grumbles beneath his breath, but his threats delight Kirishima more than they intimidate; Kirishima’s laughter seems to confound Bakugou more than it enrages. They're good for each other, is his sudden thought, and it thrills him.

He’s a little teary and a little breathless by the time he gets himself under control. Through the blurry smudge of his eyelashes he sees Bakugou. Then he’s breathless all over again.

Bakugou’s face—Kirishima wouldn’t say it softens. But there is a softness there, in his unsmiling mouth, in his brow, stern but smooth. He’s just—watching him, steadily. Intent. 

“Hey,” Kirishima says, and it’s easy, it’s so easy. “Make sure you come in on Christmas, alright? I get out early, and I want to ask you something.”

And maybe he expects Bakugou to fluster, or to scowl, or to demand to hear his question then and there. He doesn’t.

 “Fine,” he says, and he just keeps watching. Like he wouldn’t mind watching Kirishima forever.

Maybe Kirishima’s projecting a little.

:

Bakugou would probably tear him a new one for spreading the news around, but Kirishima is too excited to keep it to himself. 

“I’m happy for you,” says Amajiki, sounding worried but sincere.

“Congrats, man,” says Tetsutetsu, and then they have a celebratory arm wrestling match.   

Kaminari is a little more suspicious. “So you haven’t asked him out yet?” 

He’s standing on a stepladder, hanging Christmas decorations while Kirishima mans the counter. Bakugou has already stopped by for his morning coffee, and it’s been a slow morning since. The few people trickling in have been couples, sharing hot chocolate and slices of cake. Kirishima has spent an inordinate amount of time daydreaming about similar situations. In his head it’s usually a little less cozy and a little more explosive, but he likes it better that way.

“Technically no.” He tops the latte he’s working on with extra foam. “I asked him to come by on Christmas, and I’m going to ask him out then. I’ve got a plan.” 

Kaminari doesn’t need to know how nebulous said plan is. At the moment it includes things like Step One: Bribe With Spicy Food (Addendum: Can Christmas Cake Be Spicy?), Step Two: Sweep Bakugou Off His Feet, Step C: Profess Manly Adoration, Step N: Kiss Just Like, Wow, A Whole Bunch. The truth is he’s always been more of an in the moment kind of guy. But he likes Bakugou—he really, really likes Bakugou. He doesn’t want to screw everything up with an impulsive word or action. And if that means taking precautions he wouldn’t usually bother with, he’ll take them. 

“I dunno, man,” says Kaminari. “Midoriya and Momo are all about plans. You…not so much.”

Kirishima decides Kaminari knows him too well. “Any progress with Shinsou?”

That does the trick. Kaminari brightens like the bunch of LED Christmas lights in his arms. He practically swoons, the stepladder protesting beneath him. “Dude, you have no idea. I took a leaf out of your book, just asked him straight out, and lemme tell you I knew Hitoshi was hot but I’ve never seen anyone blush so cute in my whole damn life—”

He swoons a little too hard, arms wheeling, and Kirishima barely vaults the counter in time to catch him. There’s some polite applause from the handful of patrons in the shop. Kirishima and Kaminari bow, and then Fat Gum tells them to quit fooling and get back to work. 

Kirishima does not spend the rest of his shift thinking about how Kaminari called Shinsou Hitoshi. And he definitely does not think about calling Bakugou by his first name on Christmas. 

He does, however, scrawl Katsuki on no less than three to-go cups. 

:

Kirishima does not see Bakugou on Christmas. He does not see much of anyone, or anything, on Christmas. He can barely see his own hand in front of his face, which could be the delirium brought on by the fever or the copious amount of sweat rolling into his eyes, which is also brought on by the fever. 

As badly as he wants to push through the pain, not even he is hardheaded enough to try and drag his sorry carcass to work. It’s hard enough to drag his sorry carcass to the bathroom and back. He tries to text his coworkers (Tamaki? Kaminari? Tetsutetsu? He can’t recall who’s working today, so he texts all of them) and asks them to apologize to Bakugou, but the characters are swimming in his vision and he’s pretty sure the result is gibberish. Which means it’s over. He’s going to be laid up in bed for weeks, he’s going to fail his finals, and come next semester he’ll have a new class schedule, and he’ll never see Bakugou again. He’s blown it. Romance is dead.

Someone’s knocking on the door. He doesn’t answer it right away—it takes a minute for him to peel the rhythm of the pounding door from the pounding in his head. It takes a minute longer for him to stumble up and open it.

“You look like shit,” says Bakugou. He’s standing there looking like god’s gift to the earth, even scowling, even bundled in hat and scarf and mask, even laden down with groceries. Kirishima is pretty sure he’s hallucinating.

“Well? Are you letting me in or what?”

Kirishima lets him in. Bakugou toes out of his boots and then he plants himself in the middle of the room, jerking his head this way and that, taking it all in: the kitchenette-slash-living room, the card table turned dining table, the clashing red and hot pink interior design. “This place is a shitshow,” he declares. “No roommate?”

“She’s spending Christmas with friends.” More specifically, Mina had left last night with the implication that if Kirishima’s date went well he was free to come back to the apartment. There was a lot of obnoxious winking and innuendos. It was sweet of her, if a little mortifying and inappropriate, and in the end entirely wasted when he woke up with the mother of all migraines.

Bakugou drops the groceries on the table and starts shucking his outerwear. The hat, the scarf, the puffy coat. Kirishima sways in place and watches him. He’s wearing a red button down, and beneath that a black tee with the Punisher logo on it. It’s just a little bit dressier than his everyday attire. Is this what he would have worn on their date? If Kirishima had ever gotten to ask him properly? He sighs, forlorn.

Bakugou turns back to him, and they stare at each other. They keep staring at each other until Bakugou reaches past him to close the door, which was still hanging open over his shoulder. Whoops.

“God damn, you’re out of it. Get back to bed, loser.”

He cuffs him over the head, except it’s less of a cuff and more of a ruffle, exasperated and fond. So Kirishima totters back to bed. Hallucination or not, he’s happy to see Bakugou one last time. 

:

When he wakes up, it’s to the rich, earthy kinds of aromas he associates with home cooking, if not necessarily his home. His first thought is that Mina came home early, but she’s just as useless in the kitchen as he is. So either a burglar broke in to cook for him or he wasn’t having an incredibly vivid fever dream, as he’d previously assumed. Which means Bakugou is really, actually, truly in his home.

The door to his bedroom bangs open while he’s wrestling with the sweat-soaked sheets. Bakugou is armed to the teeth with soup, water, tea, pills, and towel, all laid out and puffing steam on a serving tray that Kirishima doesn’t remember owning. He raises an eyebrow at Kirishima’s ogling and knees him in the side.

“Sit up. You have to eat and rehydrate.”

The tray lands on Kirishima’s lap, and then the water and the pills are pushed into his hands. While he’s downing both, Bakugou makes a sour face at the state of his room, and bustles out to change the bedside wastebasket for a clean bag. Kirishima would be more humiliated if he weren’t so happy to see him at all. 

When Bakugou comes back he’s got a thermometer in one hand and the card table’s folding chair under an arm. He kicks the chair open, spins it around, and slings one leg over the side. He brandishes the thermometer like a weapon of war.

“Open.”

The thermometer jabs under Kirishima’s tongue. He winces only a little, and his voice comes out nasally and muffled and a little wondering. “I can’t believe you’re really real.”

 “What else would I be?” 

“I don’t know, a dream? A near death hallucination?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Shut up until I get your temperature.”

A few seconds later the thermometer chirps. Bakugou snaps it up and glares at it, and then something in his face relaxes.

“Barely a fever. You’ll live, moron.”

Kirishima asks, “How’d you know where I live?”

“Your dumbass coworker said you were sick. I threatened him bodily harm until he gave me your address.” Like it’s so obvious. Which, yeah, maybe it is. Probably Kaminari, who is both susceptible to Bakugou’s intimidation tactics and has been pushing for them to get together. When Bakugou snaps open the damp towel and starts mopping at Kirishima’s sweaty face, grumbling beneath his breath, he decides that he’s grateful. 

For the first time he’s realizing how silly his fever induced fears were. He might be down for the count for a few days, but he won’t miss his finals, even if he might fail them. And even if his schedule falls out of sync with Bakugou’s, it’s not like he’ll be gone forever. They have a mutual friend in Midoriya, as Kirishima learned recently. Or else he could just loiter around the cafe until they learn each other’s new schedules. This doesn’t have to be the end at all. Bakugou proved that by coming here.

“Sorry, Bakugou,” he croaks. “I really wanted to be there with you today. Was looking forward to it all week.” 

Bakugou dismisses him with a roll of his eyes. He folds his arms across the back of the chair and rests his chin on them. “So? What happened?” 

“End of the semester. Bad grades. Finals.” He waves a vague hand to encompass the studying and the stress and the lack of sleep. It probably didn’t help that he ran himself into the ground trying to justify a night off with Bakugou, though he doubts that comes across with his flappy wrist.

“Guess it all caught up to me.” He spoons some soup into his mouth. “Oh my god, this is delicious. You made this?”

“I’m great at everything, obviously.” His mask twists with a frown. “You’re having trouble in school?”

“’M not a genius like you.” 

“It’s not about being a genius, it’s about studying habits. You need someone to quiz you, keep you on task.” A pause, nearly short enough to be casual. “I’ll do it.”

Kirishima lowers the bowl he had been tipping over for the last of the broth. “You?”

“What, you think I can’t? I’ll be the best damn tutor you’ve ever seen, shitty hair.” Another pause. This one is more thoughtful.

“What?” says Kirishima.

Bakugou shakes his head. His voice has dropped to a low rumble in his chest. “Never seen you with your hair down. You should chuck all your gel, it’s not so shitty like this.”

“Didn’t think I’d have company to put it up for. I’d have to flip upside down to do it right, I probably would have passed out and died.”

Bakugou snorts. “You’d think a nurse would take better care of himself.”

Kirishima snorts back, with a little more phlegm. “You’d think a doctor would have better bedside manner.”

All of a sudden Bakugou’s scowl is a little less—scowly, than it usually is. More searching. More intense. Their eyes meet for a second too long and it’s like someone is pouring nitroglycerin down the column of Kirishima’s spine.

“Sounds like you want to know more about my bedside manner.” 

He’s smirking, and there are so many things—so many things—that Kirishima could say to that. Things that would be smart or things that would be manly or things that would be safe. So many things. 

His fever speaks for him. “Well, if you’re offering.”

The smirk falls away and that intensity comes roaring back. Kirishima’s insides ignite. Bakugou rises slowly and doesn’t once blink, and his chair scrapes on the floor, and Kirishima has the thought I hope that doesn’t scratch the wood— 

Then Bakugou is kissing him. The rough weave of his mask and the heat of his mouth behind it, like a brand. His open eyes. His hand cradling the curve of Kirishima’s skull. It’s overwhelming and it’s nothing at all, less of a kiss than a touch, less of a touch than a promise. Kirishima clutches at him because he’ll fall away otherwise, he’s hungry and dizzy and unmoored, and he’s got one hand clenched in Bakugou’s shirt and one in his hair and it’s soft, how is it so soft? His heart lurches in his chest.

No no no, not his heart. “Bakugou, back up, I—oh shit—”

He pulls away and flops over the side of the bed, unable to see if his hail mary aim for the wastebasket came through. Only once he’s done tossing his guts does he register the steadying arm around his shoulders. The hand pushing back his hair. It’s warm and square and dry, with callouses on every finger. 

“You’re disgusting,” Bakugou says from somewhere above him. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“You’re the one who just kissed a sick man. What does that make you?”

“Magnanimous as fuck.”

Kirishima laughs. It hurts every part of him, but it’s good. It’s really good.

“I really like you, Bakugou. Like a lot.” 

It comes out so easy, just like that day in the cafe. He’s still half upside down and his mouth is still sour. Bakugou’s hand is still in his hair. Through the damp red locks that escape his grip Kirishima can see him, and for the first time since they met, he looks starry-eyed. It is the most amazing feeling in the world, even when Bakugou blinks the stars away and glowers. 

“Is that why you wanted me to come by the cafe today? I already knew that, dipshit.” 

His voice is dismissive and mocking, but his hand is still in Kirishima’s hair, and his collarbones have flooded pink. It’s just like Bakugou to flirt and kiss him within an inch of his life only to get shy about a little sincerity. 

“Yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. I was hoping we could go out and, I don’t know, look at Christmas lights. Bake a cake together. Pelt each other with snowballs or something. I like you a lot.” 

Bakugou helps him sit up. At his urging Kirishima rinses his mouth with water and then sips some of the tea. It’s lemony and sweet.

Bakugou demands, “What took you so long? I don’t like idiots who beat around the bush, Kirishima. Didn’t think you were like that.”

Kirishima. He doesn’t think he ever wants anyone else to say his name. “Yeah, Kaminari said the same thing. But I didn’t want to mess things up with you.”

“So you decided to be a dumbass? How’d that work out for you?”

He mulls it over. “The guy I like is seeing me half dead, so that’s embarrassing. On the other hand, the guy I like is taking care of me while I’m sick, which is pretty sweet. Net gain, I think.” He’s heartened by the amused squint of Bakugou’s eyes. “So? Want to go out with me?”

For a long moment, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He just watches, steady, intent, and his hand weaves slow, thoughtless paths through Kirishima’s hair. Kirishima has never been in love before, but he thinks this must be it. He can’t imagine anything else hurting quite so sweetly. 

“I’m not dating anyone while I’m still in school,” Bakugou says. “That would be fucking stupid.”

“Okay. After med school is residency, right? You think you’ll be dating then?”

Bakugou’s expression isn’t starry-eyed anymore, but it’s pretty damn close. 

He says, “Stick around and find out.”

:

JANUARY

A new semester means a new schedule, and Kirishima’s does not match up with Bakugou’s even once. It’s a little bit of a bummer, sure, but he’ll survive.

The last customer of the day leaves the cafe two minutes to closing. Kirishima sighs, cracks his neck, and starts prepping the last drink of the day. He sets it on the counter and then he starts wiping down tables, and when the clock strikes the hour, Kaminari goes to lock the doors.

They burst open before he gets there and Kaminari jumps two feet in the air and falls flat on his back. In strides Bakugou, and Kirishima’s heart flutters even as he stands back and cackles at Kaminari for a solid thirty seconds. 

“Kirishima,” Kaminari whines from the floor, “your boyfriend’s being mean to me!”

Bakugou kicks at him. “We’re not dating.” 

“Ha! Sure, and I’m not dating an insomniac with a fine ass—okay okay you’re not dating, quit kicking me!”

He does, but only after Kirishima scolds him and entices him away with a drink. He grabs it off the counter and passes it to Bakugou. Then he snatches it back.

“Forgot the name, just a sec!”

“You already know my name,” Bakugou groans, but he follows Kirishima behind the counter with barely a frown. “Hurry up, shitty hair, I don’t have all night to tutor your ass.”

“Tutor your ass,” Kaminari laughs from the floor. Bakugou growls.

Kirishima finds the marker and uncaps it. Before he can start to write, Bakugou threads their fingers together and squeezes hard.

“I can’t write your name with my left hand, Bakugou.”

Bakugou hooks his chin over Kirishima’s shoulder. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Well, Kirishima likes a challenge. The final result is messy, but legible. He garnishes it with a heart. “Here.”

“Stupid,” Bakugou huffs, but he accepts the cup and takes a swig. Then he yanks Kirishima toward the exit, where Kaminari is finally peeling himself off the floor.

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?” he asks, dusting himself off. “Double--”

“If you say double date, I’ll set you on fire,” says Bakugou. “And only if shitty hair here passes his test with flying colors.”

Kaminari endeavors to look contrite--his face wasn’t really built for it--but when Bakugou’s back is turned, he shoots Kirishima a subtle thumbs up and mouths double date. Kirishima returns the favor.

Out on the street it’s cold and biting. Bakugou hisses, and takes another gulp of his drink. Kirishima watches him glance at the name on the side of the cup again. If he pointed out the color in his cheeks he knows Bakugou would say it was the cold, or the heat of the drink, and then he’d punch him for good measure. But Kirishima can see his smile, hard-won and worth it. He can see how he passes a thumb over the shaky black characters, over and over: Katsuki.

: