#anywho gn^^

[normal-person-i-promise]

that onigiri you like

reigen arataka/reader

Arataka scours the onigiri aisle, running everything under his careful, though sluggish eyes, looking and searching and scouting, and... Right there!

He reaches for one for himself and one for you, and his hand moves so fast that he finds himself having brushed it against someone else getting that same flavour. He huffs in annoyance, looking up to apologise, and—

Oh. It's you.

★ ★ ★

Arataka waves off the last clients with a wide smile that doesn't reach his eyes, thanking them for the hefty tip as the door closes.

Lonely. It's very lonely.

His smile disappears the moment they can't see him as he roughly counts the money, flapping the bills in his hand, and halves it; he pockets the bills in his left, and the bills in the right, he puts into the saving box he has hidden.

You had an off day, and Mob had needed to go home. Arataka had taken a later job — just a simple massage — and it's late enough to see the warm orange streetlights spilling through the blinds as he flicks the lights off, the dim stars in the sky twinkling as they dance across their inky black stage.

As Arataka locks the office door, he argues with himself. He should really go and eat dinner.

...He doesn't feel like it, though...

The night air is chilling as he walks down the silent grey pavement that almost seems to swim under his feet. Arataka's walk is accompanied by nobody other than his shadow, and his footsteps form a steady drumbeat on the sidewalk that helps keep the silence at bay.

Not that it's quiet. He can hear the rumbling of cars as they rush home from work, hear the excitable crowds in those overpriced coffeeshops and cafés. There's the lingering scent of the cars' exhausts, the warm smell of hot foods and cold beverages leaking out from the shops.

He's thinking about you. You mentioned you always go to this convenience store, right? Maybe he'll go there.

"Oh, Reigen, the onigiri there are to die for," you'd said excitedly on a particularly slow day in the office. Your eyes had sparkled in the afternoon sun, your hair shining in the golden rays.

God, you're pretty.

"You should pop by one day! The staff are friendly, and, if I'm lucky, I can get you a discount," you'd said with a wink. "I'm friends with one of the cashiers."

Arataka rolls his eyes at the thought. Silly you, with your endearing voice and adorable excitement, your cute little smile and your addicting laugh...

He clears his throat. No need for those kinds of thoughts, yes? Especially not for an employee?

This is highly inappropriate behaviour, he's aware. So scandalous — a boss falling for an employee, giving this special little worker extra perks, like attention, jokes, extra leeway...

He can't resist.

He thinks about you as he walks. He thinks about how you'd go on and on about that onigiri, and how often you'd ask him to go to dinner with him. He knew it was usually just because he'd pay, but... It never really felt that way. It felt like you were less coworkers and more friends, maybe even more than that.

He likes those dinners with you even more when Mob wasn't around. He likes it when all of your attention is on him, all your laughter caused by his fumbling hands or quick-witted jokes, all your jokes made for him, and only him. It feels so... So personal, so intimate, like a...

...

No.

As he walks, he stares up at the night sky. The stars, tiptoeing and twirling against the black, are barely visible from all the light pollution. The moon is a crescent, hanging beside the dim stars and casting a glow on the grey clouds besides it.

He hums.

The streetlights cast an artificial golden glow onto the cold concrete of the sidewalk, and Arataka's shadow is spindly as he walks slowly, slowly, taking in the view with fatigued eyes.

Half-lidded are his eyes, and slow is his gait — though behind his scattered gaze, his mind is running rampant with thoughts of you. He physically cannot conjure a thought that isn't related to you in some way, shape, or form, and he shakes his head as though it'll rid his brain of you.

The lights remind him of how warm, both physically and metaphorically, you are, with a smile as bright as the sun, the shining moon holding slivers of your twinkling eyes. The wind that combs through his hair reminds him of your hands, as gentle as a summer breeze, the soft music he hears from the cafes and restaurants reminding him of your voice, as silvery and sweet as song. He hears shreds of your laugh in the excited chatter of the late-night partiers, and he almost falls flat on his face as he thinks of the noise.

He shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts, though to no avail.

He stops in front of a brightly lit store, and it looks just as you'd described. MOB MART is written in bright LED lights on the front, yelling the store's name in the loudest font that was available.

He straightens his tie and smooths down his suit, trying to look at least a little bit presentable — you said you knew one of the cashiers, after all.

Pushing open the door, a gentle ding-dong marks his arrival as Arataka scans the shelves with a tired gaze, looking for the legendary onigiri you'd been singing your praises for. His shoes go click, click, click on the smooth floors, the shuffling of his hands in his pockets annoyingly loud.

They have the usual: coffee and other cold beverages in bottles and metal cans, chips and junk foods in noisy plastic packaging, bentos and instant ramen in shiny clear plastic boxes, etc etc etc. Nothing much to note down.

He looks carefully, looking, looking, looking, and... There! He spots them — a handful of flavours of these onigiri about the size of the palm of his hand, their seaweed crispy and their fillings typical.

You'd mentioned your favourite flavour, right? Like... Tuna mayo? Hah, as if he could forget anything you'd say.

Arataka scours the onigiri aisle, running everything under his careful, though sluggish eyes, looking and searching and scouting, and... Right there!

He reaches for one for himself and one for you, and his hand moves so fast that he finds himself having brushed it against someone else getting that same flavour. He huffs in annoyance, looking up to apologise, and—

Oh. It's you.

He yanks his hand away in a manner that probably looks way, way too suspicious to you — and combined with his flushed cheeks and the perspiration beginning to bead on his forehead, this is not a good look to have in front of you.

He clears his throat, clearing his cheeks in tandem.

"Reigen!" You say, a little surprised and a little excited. "Finally checking out the onigiri, huh?"

He swallows thickly, smiling nervously and nodding. He'd better get himself together before you start suspecting things — from your boss, no less.

He reaches for the onigiri just as you do, and that small, tiny brush of your skin against his sends a jolt of electricity running through his body. His cheeks redden, his eyes going wide.

Arataka does (though as fast as he can) manage to get the onigiri he wanted — salted salmon. Different than the one he wanted just now.

"So... So, uh, what are you doing out so... Late?" He asks, casting his gaze briefly to the glass doors, looking at the dark night sky. The two of you walk around the store for a little bit more, just looking at things with no intention to buy.

"Oh. Ah... Just a late dinner, I suppose. I was too caught up in that series," you reply, a grin in your voice. You bring your eyes back to the onigiri in your hands, the packaging wrinkling.

"...Though it's more like supper now."

He nods, then it's quiet again.

It's... Nice, being around you in such a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft music playing on the speakers and the click-click-click of your shoes on the polished floor.

When you both put down your things to pay, Arataka brings out enough money to buy both.

He grins, clapping a hand on your shoulder — and that makes you feel a jolt of that same electricity go through your body, a redness rising to your cheeks.

"I'll pay, no worries," he says coolly, his tone calm and collective.

Oh. Okay. That's nice.

He opens the door for you.

As the two of you walk out of the convenience store, you stand in the dark parking lot — it's not so quiet now that Arataka can hear your breathing, and it's not so lonely now that he has you for company.

You unwrap your onigiri, making the plastic crinkle and the tearing the tape as you pull the clear packaging off, settling the crispy seaweed and plump, white rice more securely in your hands.

Arataka poses an idea — a risky one, he'd wager, though not the kind of thing you'd say no to. It's reasonable, too; it's something that friends do for each other. You two are friends, right?

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

"You want me to walk you to the station?" He offers, his tone polite and cautionary as he, too, unwraps his onigiri, the noisy plastic wrapper crumpling loudly as he balls it in his hand.

You take a bite of yours, thinking.

"...That'd be nice, yeah," you reply in between greedy mouthfuls of rice and tuna, smiling as you chew.

He smiles — and god, is that cute — and begins to follow you wordlessly, as though it's a normal occurrence to him. He really, really wishes it was.

As the two of you walk, there's the sound of the two steady drumbeats of your footsteps, the shadows of two figures merging to move as one. It's not nearly so quiet now, especially since Arataka is shoving the onigiri down his throat like a starving man, chewing noisily and swallowing bite after huge bite.

You half-laugh as he messes up his face with soft grains of rice and shreds of seaweed.

"Wait, wait, Reigen, lemme get that for you."

He pauses, turning to face you and almost jumping when you reach for his face, his knees going all weak and wobbly (like a lovelorn fool, he thinks scornfully) when you cradle his face so, so gently, with that touch of yours he just can't get enough of. You wipe off the rice bits he'd gotten all over his face, caring for him enough to make his hands shake and his heart race.

His cheeks are definitely red now, assuming they weren't already. His eyes dart about here and there, avoiding your gaze.

Cute.

He takes his head out of your hands, shaking it as though trying to get rid of those... Wretched thoughts he has for you. You watch in amusement.

He mumbles a quick and embarrassed thanks as he resumes his walk.

The walk continues on without much fuss. It's a cold spring night, the sakura in full bloom — though they're more of a subdued, muted pink now that they're bathed in the warm streetlights and kept dark under the shadowy cloak of the night. They're still pretty.

It's really chilly, though. You find goosebumps running uncomfortably on your skin as the two of you walk, and you bring your arms up to hug yourself unconsciously.

Arataka notices this.

"Need this?" He asks teasingly, unbuttoning his — HIS — suit jacket and laying it over your shoulders before he lets you reply.

Oooh, it smells just like him... There's salt in some of the pockets, a strong scent of incense, and the pleasant, sharp smell of that expensive cologne he'd always mention he wore.

Your cheeks flush.

"Thanks, Reigen," you say sheepishly, smiling at him politely with pink cheeks, and— oh god, oh man, does that make those butterflies flutter and his thoughts race—

He clears his throat, nodding in reply.

At this point, you're still eating your onigiri. Arataka had practically inhaled his (much to your amusement), and is now walking in silence beside you.

Slowly, slowly, gradually... He edges closer to you, close enough for him to smell the floral shampoo you use, close enough for him to smell the sweet laundry detergent on your clothes.

His hands shake, his thoughts running at a mile a minute and the butterflies in his stomach ravaging the lining. You're so... Close. You're so close, and you're so warm, and... God, okay, keep it together.

His arm brushes against yours as you walk. It's such a small, tiny thing, barely even felt, but it sends such a sharp jolt through his body that he has to hold it within himself from pulling you close and... Giving you that same, fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He really, really likes touching you.

"So," you begin awkwardly, like you're trying to fill in the silence as you adjust Arataka's warm jacket on your shoulders. "Did you like the onigiri?"

You'd just finished yours, crushing it absentmindedly in your hand as you gesture to his. It's in a small, crinkly ball in his tight fist.

"Ah, um, what?"

He brings his gaze to where you're pointing.

"Oh. Oh. My onigiri, ah..."

He hums, bringing a hand to cradle his chin in thought.

"...Good. It was good."

He smiles at you, and you smile back.

"Would you eat it again?" You ask.

"...Definitely."

You take a moment to think of a reply, and decide to go in an interview-like fashion. You're going to interrogate him.

"And why did you like it, exactly?"

"Hmm..." He hums, stroking his chin in thought.

"The rice was fluffy and not dry. The portion and distribution of the filling was also really generous, and," he taps your nose with a finger, "it just automatically tastes good because you like it."

You let out a little half-laugh, and Arataka allows himself a triumphant grin.

"Is it one of your favourite foods, now, or is it just onigiri for you? Did it change your life, in other words?"

He scoffs, shoving you with his empty hand playfully. You're really cute when you try to make him laugh.

"Oh, come on. You think some rice and salmon is going to change my favourite foods list just like that?" He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"I'm a man of class and taste. I'm better than having such a flimsy opinion."

You sigh. "Are you sure it wasn't that good? It was that good for me."

He lets out a little laugh. "I'm sure."

"And that was your honest opinion, right?" You ask, "no sugar-coating, no lying? You con-man?"

Arataka huffs in annoyance, kicking you with his foot. "I am not a con-man, I'll have you know — I am a respectable psychic! One of the best in the field, as a matter of fact! I am not—"

He catches you mockingly miming a talking mouth with your hand, and he reaches and grips your fist shut with his. An impulsive move, though it's enough to send a heat rising to your cheeks.

"And those are pretty bold words for someone who is being employed by this so-called 'con-man'."

"And about your question!" He changes the topic quickly. "I am not—" he tightens his grip on your hand and shakes it —"a liar! Though, I must admit..."

A grin spreads across his face. "Maybe I should've been a little meaner."

You shove him as an attack, and he laughs, letting go of that soft, soft hand. You're so cute...

"No! No, Reigen, why? Did you really not like it that much?"

Arataka chuckles, dusting off the place you'd placed your warm hand on his shoulder when you'd shoved him.

Before he can reply, you cut him off.

"Not like I was forcing you, anyway. You could've just spat it out if you didn't like it."

And he sighs. "That would be mean to you, wouldn't it?"

He shifts so he's walking just a little closer to you. Butterflies ravage your stomach. "And I liked it, anyway. One of the best onigiri I've had in a while."

You grin pridefully. "I have the best taste in things." Arataka nods.

It's not a long time before the two of you arrive at the station you'd been walking to. He follows you, almost diligently so — his shiny black shoes play a steady tap, tap, tapping beat echoing through the stairway, blending nicely with the sounds of his grey suit rustling and the general noise of the station.

You can hear distant trains in the background, impatient patrons waiting on benches and in convenience stores, the sounds of the city night life — lives infinitely more complex than yours in every shoulder you brush against and every face you pass.

Quiet. It's really quiet, though not in the way your ears would ring — it's quiet in the way that it's comfortable; there's a lovely background noise, though it's not so overwhelming you'd feel like crying, but it's not so quiet that it risks you hearing Arataka's racing heart or shallow breathing. It doesn't feel awkward, either, and it doesn't feel like either of you should be talking. It just feels... Nice. Like how things are supposed to be.

You take a seat at the bench, and Arataka follows. He sits... Far, but close at the same time. The urge to pull you into his arms is almost strong enough to make his chest ache.

He's... Not subtle in the way he stares at you. At all.

...

A minute or so passes before your train arrives, grinding slowly to a stop on the tracks. You get up.

"I'll be leaving, yeah? See you tomorrow at work."

You get up, almost reluctantly, pushing yourself off the seat and bringing yourself away from your crush's employer's company. It's a difficult battle, all in all, and your pace is much too slow and your strides are much too short when you begin walking towards the train's doors, sliding smoothly open and letting the cold air-conditioning flood the train station.

There's a second set of footsteps behind you.

Arataka. He's following you. He follows you into the train, and before you can ask him why, you need to hold on tight to the freezing metal handlebars and move aside for other patrons until you can find a seat.

"Ah."

He stares at you awkwardly. The two of you are close — very close — it's enough to smell that sharp cologne he always wears, and it's enough to make his heart rate skyrocket through the roof.

His body heats. His cheeks flush a pretty shade of red that's hard not to stare at, and his stomach tightens.

"You're going on the same train?" You ask, struggling to keep the excitement from being so near him out of your voice. He swallows, deciding every and any reply would be bad, and just nods in response.

"Are you switching trains?"

He pauses. Does he need to switch trains? He can barely think when he's so near you.

He nods again. "L— later on. At the..." He points to a station on the display whilst mentally cursing himself for stuttering. "...Thyme Station."

More people are rushing into the train, and the two of you are forced to stand almost near enough to touch.

It's driving him insane.

It's silent between the two of you again. The doors slide shut, and there's no warning when it suddenly jerks to a start. Everyone gets shaken — even if it's just a little bit — and others adjust their feet to be more stable, or shift so that they're seated comfortably in their seats.

You almost fall on Arataka. He grabs— he grabs your arms and steadies you. He. He's grabbing your arms?

The train slowly picks up speed, the scenery outside the window turning to a multicoloured blur, the trees and the buildings and the cars and the people all blending together to form nothing more than smears of paint. It's much more stable now, and it only shakes a little bit; you could let go of the handlebars. It's enough to stand still with little instability.

Arataka still grips tightly to your arms. His hands are shaky and his palms are sweaty, fingers digging into you a little bit.

"...Reigen?"

He jumps at his name being called by you, and he immediately lets go, mumbling apologies as he does.

"Sorry, sorry, s— sorry, uh—"

He clears his throat in vain as his cheeks gain a pretty reddish hue. Yours do, too.

It's cold and quiet. You find yourself adjusting Arataka's coat lying heavily and warmly on your shoulders, making sure it's settled nicely on you and it's covering the coldest spots and he stares at you for a while, a little awestruck by how cute you look, before smiling and nodding. He hopes it looks normal.

...The train ride goes a lot faster than you want it to. You're in that comfortable silence with him again, blankly staring out the window as you focus on keeping your breathing steady. Everyone's sitting down or standing quietly, taking up as little space as possible.

When the train stops, you almost fall over again — and Arataka holds your upper arms again. You're almost entirely certain it's an excuse to touch you.

He smiles at you, nodding as the doors slide open. Your station.

You push your way through the crowd, and wave goodbye as the doors shut.

It takes Arataka a moment to register that he just touched you, twice, before his face goes beet-red and his chest tightens.

Oh... He really, really loves you.

...

HIS JACKET—

[traumawhomst]

Vampire v Hunter Fledgling let’s goooo

Tw: Reader is fatally wounded and dies but it is not shown graphically.

Honestly it was cute in the beginning, to be singled out by a Hunter, it hadn’t happened in centuries. It was a bit of an ego boost to think his name was still being spread.

The first time he sees them he almost coos, looking at this twee Hunter, all serious in their leathers, a black mask staring at Him across the room. What really piqued his interest was the fact that they never spoke.

Their first fight was more, well, a play fight for him if he was honest. He threw insults and witticisms trying to get a reaction from the Hunter with no luck. No matter how much he mocked and belittled them, they never once spoke back. Or really make noise other than grunts or slight groans due to exertion. It was charming actually, so many Hunters had their little speeches ready, about their tragic life or to mock Him, or worse go on a tirade about ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Those ones never lasted long, too caught up in their egos to focus on the extremely hard task of actually killing a vampire.

If they’re silent well, that means business, a single minded focus that He could respect. So he lets them live after the first fight. A reward for tracking him down when so many had failed in the first place, something to soften the failure of trying to kill him. He figured he’d never see them again, and he was feeling generous.

Oh but you had to keep finding Him didn’t you? Second time you ambushed him he chalked it to dumb luck, and fought you off with him seriously pulling his punches. You were still silent and nothing he seemed to say got you to crack. The third time was just annoying, he was headed to a party hosted by a dear friend, only to find you waiting right outside for him. He didn’t kill you that time, mostly because he didn’t want to be more late because than he already was.

The fourth time you appeared he was completely done with the situation. It has been fun the first few times but it was starting to seem like you needed a harsher lesson. He was going to just break a limb or something, force you to stop for a while.

And then you winged him, the spike firmly lodged in his left arm. That’s when he was done playing. Faster than you could see he moved forward and threw you into the nearest wall.

It was pitiful, even if he didn’t have much pity at the moment, to see you on your side breathing ragged your body too hurt to even curl into yourself. He pulled out the stake complaining about his shirt and the hole left behind as he strolled up to the Hunter who was trying and failing to reach their cross-bow stake launcher, and He stepped on it, breaking it with a satisfying crunch.

The Hunters hand fell and their body stilled as he got closer.

“Honestly, if a vampire beats you three times you should learn your lesson. I was being quite generous with you, but the ‘indomitable human spirit etcetera’,” he said his tone bored, as he prodded at the Hunter’s quivering body. “That would be the shock settling in,” he said blithely, going to stand up before changing his mind. “Actually,” which was the only warning you got when he pulled off the mask and you closed your eyes waiting for the killing blow.

When you looked at Him, abject horror was not what you expected to see on his face. Had you been injured that bad? You don’t think he got your face. The Vampire’s face was glued to yours and for a moment you were unsure if the silence was worse than a quick death.

“You’re eleven!” He balked pulling back for a second. He was of course off by a decade more or less, but the thought was still mildly annoying.

“Who’s letting you do this? Where did you get your equipment? Where in gods name are your parents?”

From your limited prospective he seemed to be having a complete mental breakdown. He kept speaking in some language you didn’t recognize as he looked over your body again and again. Then his eyes seemed to get wider as he remembered that you were in fact dying at the moment. There was no hospital near enough even with his supernatural speed it wouldn’t be enough time, even if someone came at this very moment he didn’t like your odds of survival.

Part of you relaxed when he finally bit down on your wrist, some of it due to his venom, but the other smaller part who was just ready for the pain to end.

You had not expected to come to, still laying on the ground as a seeping cold numbness grew. Your body hurt but not like it had before, somehow this pain was more terrifying. You spoke for the first time, asking in a broken voice what he’d done to you.

He on the other had just seemed relieved to see you awake. “I saved you darling,” he said running a hand over your head. “You don’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

How big of a lie it was.

[mydearchoso]

geto and a reader with capnolagnia (a fetish/attraction to the smell of cigarette smoke/the act of smoking) and so everytime he wants some puss, he steps out for a few and comes back REEKING of it.

he loves doing it at movie theatres, restaurants, sometimes before he comes to visit you at work or before entering your house. any excuse to make you hot and bothered that inevitably leads to him being dragged to the bathroom or bedroom, sometimes not even bothering to hide it and just doing it right there as discreetly as possible.

he just loves the stark contrast when you go from bright, smiling, and cheery to furrowed brows and rustling thighs. mouth all but watering as you fuck the man to oblivion behind your eyes, before finally pouncing on him.

geto has also certainly fucked you WHILE smoking... slow lazy thrusts as he watches the ash flutter down to rest on your torso. smearing it with his hands as he slides it up to play with your nipple idly. putting the filter to your lips to inhale. all before he's locking your lips with his, grabbing each of your shoulders so hard his nails dig into your flesh. inhaling the smoke from your mouth as he pulls you down towards his hips. his leisurely pace turned cruel and hyper. fucking you like a rabbit who's only goal is to finish before it's heart gives out.

he gets so needy as he exhales the remainder of smoke across your face, watching your expressions as he drills into you ruthlessly. he may be using you like a toy right now, but after a little clean up, when he's put his briefs back on and you're in his shirt, you'll step out onto the back porch for a proper smoke. cuddling on the sun bed and passing the cigarette back and forth. staring up at the stars as you ramble about nothing special as you both bask in the afterglow of your ecstasy... and once you're back inside, who knows? maybe you'll be going at it again.

[stupidhany]

Wow new patb art that I just finished an hour ago

How crazy also yes this is a redraw of a mousepad I cannot find anywhere else online

Only in the German comic issues 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also some alts!!

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

Not in the Routine

Featuring; Nanami Kento x GN!Coworker! Reader

Rating; SFW (no content warnings)

Other Notes; fluff, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, Gojo shows up once to pester Nanami, there are two coworkers that I needed to give names, but I hope you also enjoy them

Word Count; 4.5K

Link to Masterlist

Stability was something that you always had craved, like a moth to flame.

Safe choices. Predictable. Mundane. 

That’s something that drew you to white collar work — a financial accountant for your current company. It was predictable. You had the same routine every day.

Had the same routine. But now that routine, one that you had for slightly over two years now, was thrown into disarray by the company being bought out and merged with its competitor. 

At least you were allowed to transfer and still had your job. But still, you had your routine. You had your desk setup just how you liked, plus you got the lucky straw at your former office by having a window nearby. Now though, you were in an office full of strangers — and while, yes, you hadn’t formed many deep friendships at your old work place, you knew their faces — unfamiliar faces glancing at you from out of their peripheral vision. 

There were few open desks, none with a window seat, and even fewer where there both sides were unoccupied. 

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a seat that didn’t feel as nearly claustrophobic. Unfortunately, that only left you with one option.

Placing your paperwork and few belongings on the desk, you lowkey dread the expected small talk from your new neighbour, but the blond man beside you didn’t even look up from his work. 

As you sat down, you looked out of the corner of your eye to see if he would notice and acknowledge you, to which he didn’t. He definitely knew someone had decided to occupy the once vacant desk next to him, but Nanami K. (courtesy of the miniscule name plate on his desk) decided to continue on.

You paid no mind to it though and silently breathed a sigh of relief. There was no ‘Nice weather we’re having?’ or anything of the sort. And while, yes, you could feel that there was some sort of tension, it wasn’t consumingly awkward, more so that he now had someone closer to his personal space. You wheeled your chair a tad to the left, giving him a few more centimetres of space.

Loosening your wrists, you got to work organising the documents you were given to work on, and placed your miniscule box of allowed personal items into the built-in storage compartment of the desk. 

Most of it was the usual, but there was a fair amount of it. By your estimates, this ‘test run’ of assessing your abilities would take about a week. So, opening a spreadsheet, you started working away.

Why financial accounting? Some of the people in your graduating class of high school had asked you. Boring! Others had said. But you knew then that there would be some sort of demand for that sort of job, despite the rise of technology that can help in that sector. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t exciting. But it provided. It allows you to separate your professional and personal life.

You had just about finished the first page of the paperwork when the man beside you got up. He hadn’t moved much since you had sat down earlier that morning where you almost forgot that he was even there.

Looking at the clock, you blinked in realisation.

It was lunch time, right on the dot.

You cleared your throat, the expected introduction making its way up through your vocal chords, the memorized monologue a bit rusty. But before you could even say ‘Hello’, your desk neighbour was already walking towards the door, leaving you sitting alone and blinking in mild surprise.

Okay then I guess.

Neverminding him, you stretched out your joints and limbs, the satisfying pop pop pop and burn never got old. Your stomach also growled in protest. Despite changing companies, your lunch was still at the same time, which you were grateful for. 

Grabbing your water bottle and lunch bag you made your way to the lunchroom, recalling what your supervisor had said. Third door on the left side of the hall walking out of the office space. 

Taking a steadying breath, you opened the door. Surprisingly there weren’t many others there, something else you were grateful for. You could handle about ten people in the space but not thirty or more. But it also made sense, people probably went out to one of the various restaurants and bakeries that you saw on your way in for lunch. But you also saw your desk neighbour, sitting at a table nursing a cup of coffee and keeping to himself.

Ah, so it wasn’t just a me thing… the guy is probably just introverted. You mentally noted, eyes going around the room to find a spot to sit. Nothing personal.

A man and a woman patted at a spot at their table as a quiet invitation, and you strided on over, glad that you didn’t have to stand in the same spot like a fool as you tried to calculate what was deemed as a decent spot.

“So,” the woman said, taking a break from sipping at her drink, “new hire?”

You expected this. “Transfer,” you answered, opening up and laying out your lunch. 

She nodded her head before slipping the man next to her some coins. “Damn, lost the bet,” she sighed with a slight laugh.

“I told you,” the man breathed out, pocketing the change into his suit before turning to you. They were both expecting an introduction.

You finally put your practised introduction to use, and your lunch mates nodded.

“Well, I for one hope they keep you,” the man stated — Iwai Hideo —, “I hate crunching numbers. Stuff is tedious and mind numbing.”

The woman — Fukuzawa Chie — elbowed him, not so subtly trying to make him stop talking. “What he actually means is-”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, “It’s fine. I don’t mind doing the … tedious work.” I also hope they keep me. “And seeing the work get done is satisfying in a way.”

“Alright then,” Chie sighed in relief, but still gave Hideo a nasty look. 

The rest of lunch was spent in an easy silence, no one feeling like it was awkward and enjoying their hour of food and free time. But when the clock hand struck the hour, Nanami got up and left the room almost immediately whereas everyone else took some time getting back to their desks.

You bidded Chie and Hideo goodbye, they wished you the best of luck at cementing your spot here. They seemed nice, and while you were good with numbers, you weren’t as gifted at dealing with social situations, but they didn’t seem to mind.

You got back to your desk though, and seeing how you had just a few things to go over plus that this paperwork you were working on wasn’t due for some time, you decided to place some of your few personal items. Placing your name plate in the far right corner (you had decided to place it similarly as your desk neighbour), a small desk calendar of some beaches next to your computer, and some stationary in the provided organiser. It wasn’t much, but you may add more later depending on how everything worked out.

Once satisfied, you sat upright and for the first time all day, Nanami was looking at you, not straight out but from the corner of his eye before going back to his work.

It had, what, been six-ish hours? And he had finally made a moment of eye contact and acknowledgment. You then also went back to work, and five minutes to the end of the work day you had finished the first assignment. Closing down your tabs and computer, you started gathering your things.

Once the hand struck the hour, you got up and so did Nanami.

You had turned your chair to the right, and he turned his to the left, leaving you both looking at each other very close.

“... pardon me,” he said, taking a step back, respecting your personal space.

“Sorry,” you offered at the same time, also taking a step back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, until you cleared your throat. “Sorry if I intruded on your space by the way.”

Nanami’s brows furrowed before relaxing, “It’s fine.”

You mentally sighed in relief, you know it was childish, but you were afraid that he would hate you for intruding on his space. “Okay, that’s good to know.”

He nodded in answer, “Well,” he placed his coat on, “have a good night.” And he strode off to the door.

You waited for a moment before placing your coat on and followed suit, not wanting to leave immediately after him.

The first day was done, arguably the most socially draining one, but it went better than expected. You made some acquaintances, your desk was how you liked it, and while yes your desk neighbour was quiet he was also polite and respected your space. All things considered, it went great. 

And your routine continued. You and Nanami worked in silence next to each other besides the nod you shared to each other in the morning and when the work day ended. You spent your lunch breaks with Chie and Hideo. You felt comfortable.

Two months into working at the new office and you had finally started to feel more comfortable. Your old routine hadn’t changed as drastically as you thought it would.

Something was different today though, and it shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did.

Nanami wasn’t in his chair.

Maybe he’s sick. Was what you were trying to tell yourself, but there was something gnawing at you. And apparently, the rest of the office took notice too.

Chie and Hideo took notice of your furrowed brows at lunch, both sharing a glance with each other.

“What’s the storm cloud that’s hovering over you,” Chie broke the silence, stirring around her food with her chopsticks. “Typically you’re clear skies, but,” she gestured her hands at you, “looks like you have a nasty black cloud hanging over your head.”

You stopped chewing, and swallowed your food, looking up to your friends. “... what?”

Hideo scratched at his chin, “You aren’t like yourself today.”

“Eloquent as ever, Hideo,” Chie muttered, the man shooting her a withering look which she ignored.

You fiddled with your hands under the table, hiding the nerves that had bubbled up. “Just … concerned about a coworker. He wasn’t at his desk this morning.” Why should I care? It isn’t any of my business.

Chie pursed her lips, thinking. “Oh yeahhhh,” she said, “Kento isn’t here, right?”

“You don’t know the guy, but I don’t think he would appreciate the casualness-” Hideo countered.

Kento? Your mind flashed back to the name plate next to your desk. Nanami K. ‘K’ as in Kento. In the two months that you had been here, you hadn’t even learned his given name, always just referring to him as Nanami.

“Yeah,” is what you answered with, “he doesn’t seem like the type to not come to work unless it was something serious.”

Hideo and Chie looked at you before looking at each other, a small smile forming on Chie’s face and Hideo looking tired. 

“The guy is probably sick,” Hideo huffed.

Chie just rolled her eyes, “Boring answer as usual.” She wrote something down on a piece of paper and slid it over to you. “Here’s his number.”

You and Hideo both looked at her with questioning looks. Nanami Kento was not the type to give his number to someone without good reason.

“How the hell did you get that,” Hideo questioned.

Chie just shrugged, “I saw it on the lunch room sheet when we had that karaoke night a few months ago… decided to keep it just in case and look! It worked out!”

You looked at the number, and carefully placed it into your pocket. You didn’t know if you were going to use it, as it felt like an invasion of privacy. You didn’t know Nanami well, but you knew that he didn’t like to mix business with his personal life. Just in case though. Is what your brain said.

Lunch ended without any other interruptions and you went back to your desk, still, Nanami wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there the next day either.

Or the next.

Or for the rest of the week.

There was no sign of Nanami Kento.

And while your brain was trying to rationalise it, your gut was pacing back and forth. Something was wrong, be it a bad case of some illness or something worse.

You stared at his number as you were trying to relax after your work week, eyes flickering back and forth from your dinner on the stove and the scrawled numbers on the crumpled piece of paper.

Just in case.

Turning the burner on low, you typed in his number on your messenger, a text felt less intrusive than a call.

Hey, Nanami, it’s Y/N. I was just concerned and a coworker gave me your number to check in.

You hit send before you second guess yourself and back out of it, and shut off your phone and place it face down, turning back to your food. A minute later and there was a vibration.

Nanami Just under the weather. Thank you though for checking in.

You breathed out a sigh of relief that was building in your chest for a week.

Okay, I hope you feel better soon and let me know if you need anything.

Let me know if you need anything?! I can’t do anything! I don’t even know where he lives!

The dots on your screen stopped and there was another message on your phone.

Nanami Thank you but I’m fine.

Somehow I doubt that. But you didn’t press into it, instead taking his answer for what it is and turning back to your dinner before it could burn from the inattention. Your chest feels a bit lighter than it previously had.

You arrived early for work, something cold and heavy in your gut as you watched the clock. Knowing Nanami, he would walk in just as the hour started. Always in on time, always out on time, never staying earlier or later.

And as the hour turned, a familiar head of blond hair walked through the door and you watched as Nanami sat down in his chair next to you.

A million questions were at the edge of your tongue, but you stayed quiet. You were nothing more than work acquaintances. You doubted that he considered the two of you friends. But you missed him. His presence was a crucial part of your daily routine, and even though you didn’t know him well, you missed him.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” is what you offered instead, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Nanami looks back at you, and you notice that his eyes are a warm hazel brown but with something clouding them slightly. “... glad to be back,” he said back before turning to his work.

You didn’t press for answers, but did notice that he winced every so often, and that the hollows of his cheeks — damn, his cheekbones are defined — were more pronounced. He wasn’t showing it, but Nanami was tired and still recovering. Not from an illness, but on one of his missions he was critically injured. Shoko did her best, but he still wasn’t back to his 100%. Typically people didn’t notice nor care if he wasn’t at his day job, but something warm made its way into his chest. You had noticed.

You who had entered into his life randomly one day, and slowly cemented yourself there. Never pushing, never intruding, but cementing yourself nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry if I worried you,” he said, barely above a whisper, as you were still working.

You glanced at him, as he never said anything while you both were working. “What for? You were ill, you can’t control that.”

Nanami hummed, “Fair enough. But, sorry that I worried you.” 

You hummed back, which he took as an answer that you understood.

There was a shift in your relationship. Acquaintance didn’t do it justice. You both cared and respected each other too much.

“I don’t like worrying my … friend,” he huffed.

Friend. 

You looked at him properly, before offering a smile, “Well, too bad, because I worry about my friends.” Nanami — Kento — looked back at you, at your smile, and he offered a small one back. “Noted. I’ll try my best so you don’t need to worry.”

Kento had been looking for his phone all morning with no luck. Typically he wouldn’t be as concerned, since he didn’t keep much on it, but now he was antsy trying to look for the damned thing.

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone, Nanami,” an all too irritating voice sang. Gojo Satoru was holding his phone while sprawled out on a chair. Of course he had his phone and was snooping around. “But, yeesh, they’re dry as can be. ‘Here’s the recipe for those chocolate muffins I brought in the other day that you liked.’ Tch.”

Kento felt his eye twitch as he calmly took back his phone. “They aren’t my partner,” he said, but something clenched in his heart. “And they aren’t dry.”

Satoru shrugged, “Defensive much! If they aren’t your partner…” a mischievous grin played out on his face, “can I have that muffin recipe?”

“Absolutely not,” he retorted sooner than he could think.

The grin grew wider, “See, defensive!~”

With his phone in hand, Kento left the room and his former high school as he made the trip back to his place. And even though he saw Satoru as an annoyance, something that had said had struck a chord with him.

Why am I defensive? And that weird clench in his chest.

That only increased once he saw what Satoru had changed your contact name in his phone to. 

🤎 My Muffin 🤎

Oh… there’s that warm feeling again.

You had noticed something going on with Kento, he was back to being a bit distant which was odd.

You had, officially, been friends for four months, and you can hardly believe that it’s been six months since you had chosen to sit next to him. Today though, he had his walls up.

“Is something going on,” you asked once lunch had started, turning your seat to speak to him.

He looked towards you but not at you, which you noticed. “I didn’t sleep well,” he answered.

Technically it was true. After what Gojo had said and what he had changed your name to in his phone — which Kento hadn’t had the heart to change back — he barely got any sleep, instead laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling.

He knew that he cared for you, but to what depths he did not know. He layed in bed into the late hours of the night, going over his own conflicting thoughts. He envisioned your future as friends, and he was content with that, but then his thoughts wandered. They wandered into something more than what you two currently have. A chaste kiss to the back of his wrist. Hugging you. Your chilly hands wandering under his shirt trying to get warm on a winter’s night. Waking up next to you. Kissing you. Holding you. Being the reason why you laugh and smile.

The depths were then known, and they went far deeper than just platonic feelings.

The dark circles under his eyes were from lost sleep, yes, but also from a future he knew wouldn’t come to fruition. A future that he knew would only bring you heartache and pain, and even the moments of warmth and peace isn’t worth that.

You knew you weren’t going to get much else for an answer, so you just gave him a small smile. “Alright, but I’m always here if you want to talk about it, Kento.”

You had said his given name before, but now he wished that he never had told you to use his name by the way that his heart grew warm. He didn’t say anything though and just nodded, and then walked out of the office for his lunch, something else that was new.

Your lunch hour was quiet, and your mind elsewhere, wondering what made Kento switch his routine. He was predictable. He was stable. What could make him change from usual?

“Who are you thinking about,” Hideo asked, sipping his coffee.

You looked up to find Chie and Hideo looking at you, and you stopped stirring your soup. How long had I been stirring it?

“Who am I thinking about?” You parroted back, unsure of what he was leading on about.

Chie groaned, “Yeah, you have this concerned dopey look on your face. So, spill. Who are you pining after? If they hurt you, so help me–”

Pining?! “I’m not pining after anyone,” you muttered, taking a sip of your soup. Damn, it’s cold. “… what would make you think that?”

“My brother had the same look on his face, poor bastard fell hard,” Hideo said. “And you’ve had … this lightness around you for the past few months and it’s not as light, if that makes sense.”

The only thing that had changed was that you were concerned about Kento, your friend. Your brain always emphasised the friend part, yet your heart always felt warm when you were around him. You rationalised that it would pass, yet it hasn’t. It’s been five months and it hasn’t passed. You’ve had crushes before, but they always passed and never stayed this long.

You can’t have a crush on a coworker, let alone a friend, that’s two cans of worms in one. Yet, as Hideo and Chie keep on chatting, you’re analysing the past six months. Trying to find where these mushy feelings started to arise.

Maybe it was when you had gotten Kento to genuinely laugh, with the way you had felt your face warm from the sound. Or discovering that he enjoyed listening to emo music, envisioning the usually stoic and proper man listening to it felt like whiplash yet it made so much sense. Or the way his eyes would unconsciously seek you out in the morning, the weak sunlight illuminating his eyes into warm pools of amber. Or just how he treated others, respectful.

It was everything. 

Yet you hadn’t acted out on these feelings, not wanting to ruin everything that you’ve built with him. Which has left you a pining mess. Wanting to reach out, but not wanting to get too close to the candle in fear of getting burnt.

“I,” you whispered quietly, “don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Chie and Hideo went quiet, giving you a sympathetic look before looking at each other, silently communicating with each other.

“Would you be happy with what you currently have though?” Chie asked, placing her hand on top of yours, rubbing soothing patterns into the skin.

You thought about it. Could I be happy?

You envisioned Kento, a few years in the future, arm around his partner’s waist as he introduces you as his friend. The thought alone leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You never thought yourself to be the jealous type, but the thought of that imaginary person made the emotion flare.

“… no.”

Hideo, clapped you on the shoulder, “Well, that’s your answer! What are you waiting for then?”

The rest of the day passed agonisingly slow, and Kento was still closed off.

You didn’t speak to him at all, the tension making your throat dry, but every time you glanced over to him you noticed his eyes dart back to his work quickly. 

Tonight, after work. You told yourself, busying yourself with an easy assignment, everything adding up nicely.

If only this was as easy.

Finally, as the hand hit the hour and Kento got up, you tapped him on the shoulder, garnering his attention.

“Kento, I have to tell you something,” you breathed out.

The dreaded sentence, ‘I need to tell you something.’ just as foreboding as ‘We need to talk.’

He stopped, and tensed. Waiting.

You cleared your throat, realising that you were in the office, and you really didn’t need HR finding out. “But, outside.”

Kento followed three steps behind you, keeping a bit of distance but still close. The elevator ride down was tense and awkward, and he wanted to say something but stayed quiet. He was keeping his distance, but he had felt the warmth of your friendship, he so badly wanted it, but instead of the steady flicker of a candle flame, he wanted it to be a crackling fire. Brighter. Warmer. More intense. So he stood a respectful distance, even though he wanted to reach out.

The two of you walked out into the courtyard, and once you reached the sidewalk, you turned to him, fiddling with your hands.

“Do you … like being around me, Kento?”

Kento blinked a few times. Do I like being around you? Do living things like breathing? I can’t imagine not being around you. “Yes,” he said instead, “what brought this up?” He knew full well what brought this up, and he was mentally kicking himself for how his behaviour had made you feel.

You took in a breath, steadying yourself. “Just, you’ve been avoiding me… cold in a sense. Something felt off, and,” you paused, digging your nails into your palms, enough to sting, “I really like being around you, it hurts when you aren’t around.”

His eyes searched in yours, and he heard his heartbeat roar like waves hitting the shore.

“I don’t just really like being around you, I-” you took a breath, “I love you, Kento.”

I love you, Kento. Played through his head, and it felt like everything stopped.

You waited with bated breath for his answer, but you weren’t expecting his hand to enclose around your own, bringing them up to his chest. You could feel his heart pounding erratically.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and your world felt like it was crumbling down. “I adore you.” He brought your wrist to his lips and placed a kiss to your pulse, closing his eyes. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“What fools we are,” you laugh.

Kento hummed, “Fools plural?”

You nodded, “I… I’ve liked you for a while and I didn’t want to ruin what we have by confessing but,” you motioned to your current situation, “looks like I had nothing to fear. Kento, you will never lose me.”

You moved your one hand to his neck, tracing a circle with your thumb, “And if you do, I’ll find you again.”

The both of you were close, and he closed the distance by placing a kiss to your lips, still chaste, but you could feel the heat behind it, the emotions left unsaid made abundantly clear. You bit the bullet and deepened it, feeling him sigh and relax against you.

Sure, switching companies made you nervous, upset that your routine had changed. That the former stability was gone. But, without it you would have never ended up like this. 

You never would have found Kento.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Mess at Con

Part 2 of my piece for @cloudcountry's Sweet Shroud Summer 2024 event!

That's right, a continuation of Mess in Chat >w^

Content; Gender-neutral reader, convention shenanigans

Word Count; 1.3 K

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

You didn’t have many plans for summer, and working whenever you could barely counted as ‘plans’ save for your extremely bare and somewhat depressing calendar that just had your schedule up. But, that had changed when you met your previously strictly online bestie in the flesh, so, hey, maybe the barren dates of your calendar would finally have something written on them besides Work: 9 - 6.

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess How’s that sunburn treating you?

You knew you were being a little shit, but hey, Idia didn’t wear sunscreen on your venture in the swan boat and he was paying the price. Maybe you should get him one of those oversized sun hats?

Gloomurai Are you enjoying yourself with my suffering?

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Just a little bit >w^

You had been a bit shocked when you saw the infamously introverted Ignihyde housewarden at work only then to find that he was also Gloomurai. But, you were also kind of relieved that he was someone you knew and not some creep.

Gloomurai Despite the peeling skin, I had … fun

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess GASP! Hehehehe my ways are winning you over

Gloomurai Gremlin

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess And proud of it!~

You hovered your fingers over your keyboard, trying to think of something.

Idia had seriously gone out of his comfort zone agreeing to meet you — well, more like having the occasion thrown at him — and you wanted to hang out again. Grim was … okay company, and Ace and Deuce dropped by every so often to give you a migraine. It was nice having a calmer person around (even though ‘calm’ may not be the best descriptor, but compared to the other company you keep, Idia is calmer).

Gloomurai YOU SHOULD TOTALLY TAKE IDIA TO A CON!!! ORTHO- Sorry, ignore that PLEASE

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Nuh uh

Gloomurai WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘NUH UH’?!

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess I mean NUH UH NOT IGNORING THAT (say hi to Ortho for me) … when’s the con? [convention right? anime? comics? Both?]

Gloomurai … both You don’t have to though-

You sighed knowing full well that Idia wanted you to go with him. 

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Are you cosplaying anyone?

Gloomurai … I wasn’t planning on it …

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess COWARD! DISHONOURING THE SANCTITY OF THE CON! … I’m joking

You could almost imagine Idia flinching away from the screen from you ‘yelling’ at him, but you couldn’t help but teasingly ruffle his feathers.

Gloomurai I didn’t peg you as the type to be passionate about these things

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Tsk tsk tsk YOU FOOL! I TAKE THESE MATTERS VERY SERIOUSLY! Plus, who else could stop you from spending Sevens knows how much money in artist alley?

Gloomurai So You actually want to come?

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Y E S

Gloomurai It’s on Wednesday … where do you want to meet?

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess … I still live at the school, so Ramshackle works for me

Gloomurai F

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess That’s it No Grim privileges for you

Gloomurai NO WAIT GRIMMY-

You closed your laptop, trying to think of a low budget and preferable closet cosplay you could work with. Maybe you could snoop in the film club to see if they have any spare fabric or costumes that you could borrow? 

Low on funds and time, but when were you not? You would make this work.

…

…

Idia stood outside Ramshackle, yes, he could have waited in the nicely air conditioned car, but he felt weird about it. Fidgeting with his blue robes and wooden staff that was actually just foam, he waited.

He felt kind of bad at first, since making a cosplay last second is a hassle, but also because he felt like the outing was just thrown on you. After seeing how much you were shouting at him in chat though, Idia felt a bit better. He knew you were a nerd, after all, the two of you bonded online over a fairly popular anime adaptation of a manga.

Finally, you stepped out of the formerly dilapidated dorm, and Idia turned his head to look.

… you were both cosplaying characters from the same anime the two of you bonded over, him as the anxious magic user and you as the peppy paladin, complete with armour (thank you Film Club~). You guys didn’t even plan it out, which was weird but not too weird since you both kinda had brain rot about it.

“HA!” You exclaimed, adjusting the foam sword resting on your side, “we match!~”

Idia fixed the pointed ears he was wearing, “... I guess we do.”

Your face went serious for a quick moment. “You still don’t get to see Grim though.” You then flashed him a wink and got into the car — the faster you did that, the more likely that you didn’t waste time trying to find Grim and wasting time.

Idia pouted a bit but also got into the car, leaving a seat between you two. “I get dressed up with a wig, but no Grim,” he grumbled.

You sighed, “Next time.”

“Promise?”

You placed your fist over your heart, “I swear on my life.”

Idia just looked at you, most likely questioning his life decisions. “You’re weird.” Maybe they should be on the same weird list as Trey and Rook?

“Meh,” you shrugged. “That’s a compliment for me, plus,” you smiled at him, “it fits the character I’m cosplaying as!”

The rest of the ride was fairly quiet, but not an awkward quiet, more … content? Yeah, content. Plus, knowing how cons went back at home, this was about to be a very busy day.

…

…

Somehow, you had managed to lose Idia. You had stopped several other people who were cosplaying the same character but hadn’t managed to find him yet. 

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Where are you?

You had been in the food court, tempted by the pizza but your soul had nearly left your body seeing the jacked up prices. You had been up and down the different voice actors meet and greets, but still nothing. You had even checked the bathroom lines and sat outside them for a solid ten minutes before calling that venture a quits.

There was no sign of Idia.

Finally, you got a message back.

Gloomurai … artist alley

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess … how much did you spend?

Message seen

“DON’T LEAVE ME ON READ!” You coughed, realizing that you had said that out loud. Taking a breath and ignoring your stomach that was starting to growl, you made your way to artist alley, where many a con goer had gone in saying they would spend nothing, only to leave with many a thing (totally worth it, support artists and small businesses, folks).

Finally, after nearly two hours of being missing in action, you found Idia, who was carrying a copious amount of bags.

“This is where you disappeared off to?” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised a brow in question.

Idia offered you a wobbly smile, offered his hand and then opened it. “I got us matching phone charms…”

In his hand were the characters you were cosplaying. Sighing a bit, you took the charm of his character. “I was just worried about you,” you mumbled, trying to put the cute charm on your ancient phone.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t apologise,” you grabbed some of the bags from him to lessen the load a bit. “But for my own well being, please do not tell me how much you spent today.”

Idia looked at the charm connected to his own phone and then looked back at you. “Deal.”

“However,” you said with a sly grin, “since you put me through so much anguish, you do owe me dinner.”

Idia huffed, but he was starting to get peckish too. “What do you feel like eating, my knight,” he said sarcastically.

You wiggled your brows, “Pizza. Convention pizza.”

“So, regular pizza but just with jacked up prices?”

“Yeah, basically.”

The two of you got your pizza, and proceeded to enjoy the rest of your day. You both managed to see the manga artist of the characters you were cosplaying as — yes, tears were shed — and made some good memories.The two of you were happy, and you were looking forward to filling your calendar with Idia Time, you even knew the perfect blue marker to use.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @edith-is-a-cat, @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @ithseem, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[synthe4u]

masterlist

What is love if not him? What is life without him? He is your sole lover and husband. You couldn't abandon him, not here.

Even when he was calling out to you to leave, to run and take cover. You didn't move. You kept pressure on his wound.

He wouldn't die. He couldn't die. You would change your religion for this man. You had ran away and eloped with him against your family's will. You weren't leaving him now.

Not when he was bleeding out in your arms. He was dying. You both knew that.

Your tears flowed as quick as his blood poured. No, he wouldn't die alone, and he wasn't going to be the only one to die.

In life and death.

The end for Ghost. The start for a pair of ghosts.

[baeshijima]

the duke!sunday series navi/masterlist is done !!

hehe... the premise i took way too long to write and tbh i might still change it to shorten it but oh well. its 1:20 am and i no longer want to write a premise 🧍‍♀️

[happi-dreams]

o bed time nighty night o lovely moots of mine !!!

[aashiqeddiediaz]

anyone who doesn't find eddie's corpse era hot as frick is a liar, actress, gtfo

[unknownchoatic]

i miss my wife <- im not telling you which one

[biggiecheezits]

Yk what sucks

some 400yo man who unironically wore a wig is leagues better than me at music

Like genuinely you can look at some of his simplest stuff and it blows mine out of the water all while looking like:

Like it's not even "oh he's better" NAW. He's on another fucking plane of existence with his music. Even if my imagination was directly translated to it's musical intentions on paper, Bach would prolly take a look and go "oh yeah I'll write a variation of it" and then we have a whole nother Johnny Cash "hurt" situation.

Because I genuinely cannot compare.

Have you ever seen those like 11yo art accounts where they suck but they're not self-aware enough for them to realize it and have no shame in doing so, and yet you can't call the art completly trash because after all it was done by a kid so you gotta grab a magnet and pin it to your fridge for a few weeks? Yea I'm that kid. I'm at the level where the adult goes "aww wow soo sweet" because they know it's the best my stupid child brain can do

And you know what, fine. I'm not a professional musician and will never be one. But music IS something I love, and it's hard to love when you're clutching at the paper mache statue instead of the one made of roman marble.

MAYBE, just maybe, I want something that I can be proud of myself about, that I can look and be happy, but I'm not sure if I'm too incompetitent or too hard on myself to be blind to this shit.

Speaking of shit, that's all the BS coming out of my mouth while I hardly stay awake. idek where I was going with this. No hard feelings Bachy boy. Go listen to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HB8-w5CvMls it goes hard af

[michsjacket]

X

[stupidhany]

Them😔

[httpdwaekki]

it feels soso nice to actually have inspiration to write and to see so many people enjoy my work and to make friends along the way

like i’ve never had this before but it’s so nice to look at my masterlist and see it full of stories i’m actually proud of 🥹

[caramelmochacrow]

Oh yeah I'm gonna sleep now gnnnnn!!!!