#my purpose in life is to support mbb and plug it at every possible moment

[causenessus]

what my face looked like reading "it hits you like a truck the moment you see his eyes land on you. THE WAY YOU WOULD'VE LOVED TO HAVE TASTED THE FOOD ON HIS LIPS, TO HAVE FELT HIS HAND RESTING ON YOUR CHEEK."

ch. 5 - yearning for prosperity or love m.list

    the previous night's events replay through your mind like a historical timeline. each part laid out on a line, little times written beside it. events like him inviting you in from the rain, the lights resting behind him like an angelic glow. to him handing off his apron to you, the little consideration boggling your mind.

  things slowly started happening in quicker succession until you find yourself staring him down. it hits you like a truck the moment you see his eyes land on you. the way you would've loved to have tasted the food on his lips, to have felt his hand resting on your cheek. 

  you close your eyes for a moment, wondering how you're getting so caught up on it all. how he can look at you with such a smile that can make you melt. that you can forgo any thought of your customer base dwindling, his restaurant's flair only growing. even now, a few of your students don't want to come due to the parking during rush hours. and it crushes you.

  but he somehow makes you forget it. like some sort of sorcery, you just find yourself biting your lip, pondering what life could look like with him. even now, it's invaded your thoughts so much so that your thumb runs through the mug on your wheel. the shape that you were starting to perfect for the raven's eye diner (in exchange for a few free breakfasts) quickly crumbles under your touch. but you can't help but feel it's his touch.

  you want to blame him for the failed mug, the swirling design now destroyed. the way it lies on the wheel like an amalgamation of your descent into affection and his affect on you. however, your mind can't conjure up ill will for the man. especially as you remember him tying the apron around your waist, his fingers just barely touching your back. his touch sends a shock through you akin to a kiss of death, the death of all things rational.

  however, his touch isn't the only thing that has been sending you into orbit. everything he does has started to worm its way into your life. you've felt like your entire worldview has been flipped on its head, that this one particular man has changed everything for you. something about osamu in particular makes you queasy.

  he could do anything and it could cement itself in your core memories. like when he wiped clay off your face, or sometimes he could just be walking into your shop...

  "i'd love to buy one of your pieces, they're all so beautiful, they really exude you," he mentioned a few days ago, having entered your shop to give you an incorrectly shipped package. 

  there was something about seeing him in casual attire, the way his shirt rests comfortably on him. him holding the package like your packages are so natural in his hands, an edge of domesticity plaguing your mind like a drug. the thought of him bringing in some random thing you ordered online, breaking the seal for you, it’s all to much. 

  imagining it all made it so you couldn't help but offer your services to make him a few specialty pieces. a plate or bowl here, a utensil holder there. however, the thought of making them any less than perfect leaves you procrastinating. 

  ever since you met him, you never would’ve thought of making him pottery. taking the time to create something with your bare hands and hand it to him as a peace offering. especially when you can see how his restaurant is affecting the town. but now? all you want to do is create his own special blend of natural clays to make him a line of plates and bowls. 

  you even wonder if a trinket tray for his personal use would be a divine gift. a way to represent your feelings in a way that doesn’t come outright. but rather, it’s slow and steady, easing your way into it. giving you plenty of time to back out and reconsider everything the second you start to feel uneasy.

  it’s selfish, to yourself and him, but you know you can’t give up either one. not logistically, not when you’re yearning for love instead of prosperity. and not when you’re just now realizing just how sickeningly wonderful loving him feels. 

a/n: i do not want to finish this fic ever 😭 but we still have a few more and an epilogue <33 taglist: @causenessus @osakis-gf @eggyrocks @brkfclub @marisabel14

@bbybibi @etoiile @miyamoratsumuu @girlokarina @gsyche

@cherrypieyourface @zephestia @acowboykisser @whosmarjj @gumiiiiezzzz

@guitarstringed-scars @19calicos