#literally kicking my feet like a lovesick school girl

[fictionalsownme]

I put In Space with Markiplier on in the background when I work on my captain x engineer long fic (I have my favorite path set to a playlist and play it on mute) and even after watching the entire thing god knows how many times, I still find myself giggling and smiling at my favorite parts when I catch them out of the corner of my eye heeh

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— earbuds, my love + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — a single train ride has you sharing your headphones and your feelings with your long time crush, yoichi isagi.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, mutual pining, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1K.

⭑ notes — third fic queued for aali's away time, one of my many isagi wips! he's literally ceo of friends to lovers ngl !! i love him so bad... enjoy my lurvs - m.list ✩

“this song makes me feel like i’m falling in love with someone.”

isagi glances up at you from his phone, no longer shuffling the playlist that you’re both listening to. you’re looking out of the window, your feet propped up on the back of the seat in front of you, your head resting on your closed fist. you miss the way he flushes red.

“do you want to keep listening to it then?” he mumbles softly, thumb hovering over the slip button and his voice just barely above a whisper. you almost don’t hear you despite the fact that you’re sharing headphones and only have one ear-bud in while he takes the other.

this time, you tilt your head away from the window and the scenery passing by to lock eyes with your childhood best friend. “no, s’okay,” you say, your voice equally as low. “you can change it if you’d like.” your facial expression is tranquil, the swell of your lips pressed into an appreciative smile and your eyes sparkling with the sunlight that glitters outside of your moving train.

isagi’s nerves quickly get the better of him and he breaks eye contact, swallowing thickly before looking away with his own smile (mostly for himself).

“i think we’ll keep listening to it.”

you’re both on the train from the bustling city of tokyo back to the tiny town you both grew up in. with the off-season approaching, japan’s beloved striker had finally managed to get some time away from the blue lock team to visit his parents, and you were off on your university’s allotted spring-break.

this was the first time, in what felt like forever, that your calendars were synced up.

your bond with isagi had always been strong — from the very first moment you’d met, back in middle school when he’d kicked a soccer ball straight into your lunch and then instantly offered to buy you a new one. impossible to separate, you were joined at the hip right up until he left for blue lock. these days, your paths rarely cross and while isagi’s career in soccer bloomed like you always knew it would — you went the more traditional route of life and found passion in your own university degree.

after some moments of quiet, aside from the children crying in their mother’s arms, teenagers gossiping on their way home from junior high and the calls from the attendant manning the snack cart — isagi speaks up, shyly. “who…who would you be in love with? yanno…because of this song…”

“some guy, i’ve known him for years.”

“does he know…how you feel about him?” you shake your head and isagi presses you again. “have you tried telling him?”

“gods no, yoichi!” you wave him off almost too quickly — curling in on yourself like a highschool girl handing her crush a confession letter or chocolates on white day. perhaps because this is exactly like that. you’ve liked him, loved him, for as long as you can remember. he makes your skin hot and your thoughts a mess and when isagi’s nearby you hardly remember who you are.

and he hardly realises how lovesick you’ve been for him over the years. it would be too embarrassing to admit that you have a raging crush on one of japan’s favourite athletes.

“why not?”

“because…if he felt the same he would have noticed by now.” you answer, trying to shut down the conversation. “i’ve been obvious with my feelings. the ball’s been in his court for a while.”

“maybe he’s just oblivious.” isagi keeps going and in the cramped space of your train seats you feel hot under the collar — your nerves shaking under the pressure.

you’re given a brief moment of relief when the attendant on the snack cart stops for the couple seated opposite you. they seem happy and in love, it makes your heart twist.

the train jolts, pushing the attendant into isagi, who then topples into you — invading your space once more, causing heat to build up under your skin.

“h-he’s a way too smart for that.”

“maybe…he’s unsure? maybe he doesn’t understand your signals?”

the song you’re listening too changes as you pull into the next station.

“or maybe he doesn’t love me, yoichi!” you snap, turning your head away so fast that the ear-bud slips from your ears and the wires are left dangling between the warmth of isagi’s body and your own. you try to sit still, fighting off burning, frustrated tears — lucky that no one’s heard your outburst over the busy ambience of the train. “believe me, i’ve held out hope for it.”

“but i do love you.” he snaps back, grabbing you by the wrist so that you’re forced to look at him. isagi’s eyes are wide and deep, swirling in their hypnotising shade of blue with an emotion you don’t recognise seeing on him. love. “maybe you’re the one who’s dumb enough not to have noticed. maybe i’ve been too shy or too caught up with soccer to say so. but i love you. i want that song to make you feel like you’re in love with me.”

“o-oh…yoichi i—“ your eyes widen, then soften all at once and you feel yourself melting fast — as if all of your dreams have come true. “i don’t know what to say…”

the tips of his ears are bright pink, the hue blooming across his cheeks like they’re roses in bloom. yoichi chews on his lower lip nervously before shoving the right bud of the headphones back into your ear. “just say you like me back ‘nd we’ll leave it at that for now, okay?” he mumbles like a teenager, very much unlike the confident, cocky isagi who everyone fears on the pitch.

wisps of a grin tug at the corners of your lips as you reach out and grab his larger hand with yours — giving it a squeeze. “alright then, yoichi,” you say, leaning over to kiss the warmth of his cheeks. “i like you too.” his eyes go wide.

this is all silly and new for the both of you — having been in love with one another for years without saying. you’ll have a lot to talk about once you reach his parents’ house, how you’ll make this work with his soccer career and your new life in the big city, what you want this to be, who you’ll tell. but for now you try not to dwell on it, letting your head flop to isagi’s shoulder and his on top of yours, sharing headphones and listening to songs that made him fall in love with you.

[foodcourtdetective]

i’ll be yours in any way you’ll have me

summary: y/n waits for her soulmate to return from visiting Gene in the hospital, but there’s good news and bad news when Barry finally gets home.

tags: tw gun violence, tw anxiety attack, soulmate au, love at first sight, nods to canon but obvious twists on it, stressful plot with a happy ending

A/N: thank you for all of your lovely support! this is the end of the soulmark!au but I have another fic half-written if anyone is interested!

word count 1.7k

part 1 x // Part 2 x // AO3 x

Y/N was lounging on the couch, reading her psychology of personal adjustment textbook while mindlessly writing important terms in the notebook precariously balanced on her bent left leg. Barry was visiting Gene in the hospital; the couple had planned on finally celebrating the success of the scenes showcase after the pandemonium that had occurred opening night. Sure enough, Sally upstaging Barry in the scene and getting all the acclaim on the same night as Fuches escaping had been a bit of a dark cloud looming over her boyfriend. Y/N closed her books, her grad work forgotten as her eye caught the Catalina Breeze bottle displayed proudly on her mantle. She sighed happily before turning her glance over to Barry’s phone on the kitchen counter nearby. He had insisted on leaving his phone which her at all times so if Fuches was tracking their devices, the older man would think that Barry was always watching over his girlfriend. NoHank had given him a burner phone for when he had to leave her, even offering to stay nearby if Y/N needed backup.

She chuckled to herself, remembering the instant shine NoHank had taken to her. Any girl of Barry’s is a girl of mine. Despite the contention between the two criminals, Y/N could tell that Barry and NoHank really did have a strong connection. She could only imagine how excited NoHank would be for Barry when he finds out that he got the part in the Jay Roach movie after all. The leading man himself had yet to receive the news and Y/N hoped that the combination of Gene getting better and the huge career score would cheer up her soulmate when he got back. The rattling of the doorknob pulled her out of her happy thoughts, forcing her to confront the idea that someone was breaking into her apartment. Her heart jumped up her throat as she stood up, her books falling silently on the carpet as Y/N reached for the Glock 43 stored underneath the couch. Carefully tip-toeing to hide behind the kitchen island by the door, Y/N pointed the gun at the door with her dominant hand and speed-dialed the burner phone with her other hand. Despite herself, she thought back to how Barry had shown her these safety precautions and how goofy his long legs had looked as he crouched down behind their counter, how he had hindered her giggles with a hard kiss that somehow conveyed the severity of all of his emotions.

The phone was shaking as she raised it to her ear. “C’mon Bear, please pick u—“ her voice betrayed her fear as it cracked on her pet name for him, the one she had coined after comparing him to the teddy bear she used to cuddle as a child. Y/N’s prayers were cut off by the door swinging open, the lock successfully tampered with. She took a shaky breath and mentally prepared herself to jump for the intruder’s legs, to shoot— Her thoughts were interrupted as the intruder fell to his knees, revealing himself to be none other than Barry Berkman. She lowered the gun and put it down slowly, a choked sob of relief betraying her presence to him. He didn’t acknowledge her, staring at the floor with a hopeless look on his face as silent, angry tears streamed down his face. Y/N crawled over to his side, tilting her head downward to try to look into his big eyes.

“Bear-“

“Gene knows. Fuches told him I.. I…” Barry started hyperventilating, the raw emotions of guilt and hurt overwhelming him as his hands flapped like an actor trying to “shake it out.” Y/N intercepted his hands before he could punch something, her warm thumbs stroking his knuckles soothingly. Their soulmarks burned like they always did when they got closer to each other, still visible as his hands were surprisingly clean of any blood. He looked up at her, trying to read her face, trying to see how badly he had messed things up.

“How can he believe the man that framed him for murder? Besides, there’s proof that it was the Chechens…” she tried to reassure him.

“He told me to leave town, to never step into his class again,” he choked on his words, wheezing on the large gulps of air he was sucking in. Y/N shushed him kindly, pulling his long arms around her waist as she pressed her lips to his forehead. Her own hands left his so she could wrap her arms around his neck and stroke his hair, trying to envelop Barry in warm love as he cried into her CSUN sweatshirt. They sat there for a while until he pulled away, in awe of how she supported him unconditionally, without the same self interest everyone else valued in his relationship with them. Taking his observation as a victory, Y/N helped the assassin to his feet and walked him to the couch, kicking the books out of the way. As Barry hesitantly sat on the couch, Y/N pressed her hands atop his thighs and pressed her forehead to his.

“You sit here. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to call Leo and tell him that a con artist named Kenneth Goulet has been manipulating Gene and feeding him lies to isolate him from his loved ones. Then I’ll try to get him to let you go to class next week. You might have to pay extra the first couple sessions or lay low in participating but once he’s off his sedatives, it will be like it never happened. Okay?” She gave him a chaste but sweet kiss as he sat there, stunned by her calculated solution. Not paying his shock too much mind, Y/N headed over to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry, I know hospital food is terrible. I’m going to heat up my Mediterranean food if you want some. Just promise me you’ll take me to that new hipster cafe next weekend to make it up to me, m’kay?” Pulling the plastic container out and placing it in the microwave, Y/N tapped a few buttons before turning back to him to tell him about the part he had gotten. Barry was looking right at her, a look of epiphany painting his face as he asked her a question that stopped her pleasantries in their tracks.

“Marry me?”

“What!?” She asked, bewildered by his simple request out of nowhere. Suddenly aware of what he asked, Barry sheepishly stood up and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, we can’t actually get married on paper because of my whole fake identity thing and I know you’re still working on grad school, but you’re my soulmate, literally and emotionally, and I want to prove that I’m gonna spend the rest of my ugly life with you in it and oh god, this was too soon is it—“ mid-rant he noticed that Y/N had closed the distance between them, her face glowing with happiness and her eyes glistening with tears.

“Yes! Of course yes! I’ll be yours in any way you’ll have me!” Emboldened by her response, Barry picked Y/N up into a hug, spinning her around with the same strength that broke a man’s windpipe to share his love for her. As Barry set her down, he placed both hands on her beaming cheeks and laughed in disbelief.

“Wow, I’m sorry I had plans! I don’t even have a ring yet…”

“I do!” Barry pulled a pistol out of the back waistband of his pants, roughly pushing his fiancé behind him as he faced the doorway to the bedroom, the source of the strange voice. NoHank had emerged from Y/N’s walk-in closet with tears in his eyes and his hands in the air, a twinkling ring in one hand.

“What the hell, Hank??”

“I told you I would stay nearby your zuda!” NoHank lowered his hands as Barry stored the gun back in its original spot. The bald Chechen handed him the ring, a bright smile on his face.

“Thank you, Hank,” Y/N smiled at her friend, gesturing for Barry to put the blood diamond on her finger. He simply obeyed, his muttering under his breath about getting her a clean ring later quieted by her soft eyes.

“Oh this is SO beautiful!!! I have shipped you ever since you guys went to the shooting range together!”

“GET OUT HANK!”

“But-“ a flurry of movement and a warning shot cut short whatever NoHank was about to say, the bullet hitting the wall next to the memorial bottle. NoHank yelped, scampering out the bedroom window behind him. Y/N shook her head, a wry smile on her face as Barry made a show of putting his gun away.

“That was a little dramatic, Bear.” He shrugged in response, kissing her earnestly with a joy he had never known. This commitment wasn’t going to be easy with Fuches still at large and Gene still unstable, but the radiance of affection that swelled through his once empty heart told him it would be worth it. After a long, beautiful kiss, Y/N broke it with a smile and tilted her head up at him.

“So am I ever going to know your real name?” He looked down at her, a gentle flush across his features as he pretended to consider her request. Suddenly, Y/N found his lips tickling her ear as he whispered faintly. She laughed, twisting away to get a good look at her fiancé.

“Bartholomew! That is SUCH an actor’s name,” she laughed, ruffling his hair as he just gave her a lovesick look. Heading back to the kitchen to get their food, Y/N failed to notice Barry following her into the kitchen and yelped when he encircled her waist with both arms, kissing her on the cheek.

“You know, you should change your actor’s name to Bartholomew Block for the Roach movie so it’s half real, half fake,” she added, the accidental reveal of the big news not dawning on her until Barry turned her to face him, the complete and blissful shock vibrant on his face.

“I GOT THE PART!” Y/N’s shy little nod prompted Barry to tackle her onto the floor playfully, his fingers brushing against her side accidentally and drawing a laugh from her lips. Kissing right under her ear, he smiled brighter than the sun.

“That is the second best news I’ve heard today!”

[pkmntrainergreyze]

April 27th (Patrick Stump Imagine)

For mah boi Patrick, happy April 27.

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

This particular concert popped Patrick's bubble of personal tranquility. Not because it was timed exactly at his date of birth, rather, it's the guests who came.

Concerts usually put Patrick into a calm state. First, people wondered how he managed to do so, but the longer fans watch his shows, the more they realized how he seems to pretend the crowd's an unanimated flower meadow.

It wasn't a shocker. He admitted to having a twinge of stage fright at the beginning which best explains why Pete's the frontman. He rarely let the crowd sing for themselves, entertain their requests and most importantly he never once prolonged a two-second eye contact. Of course, the critics weren't pleased but there was only little the band could do to help since improvement depends on the person himself. So the three allowed the blonde to perform interaction-less for three albums.

April 27th is a date for one of their shows. Everyone on stage was splotched with heavy sweat, most of which glossed their faces and pricked their eyes. Good thing they considered it not a hindrance for the fifth song on the setlist: Sugar, We're Going Down...

Andy initiated the song using his beats, soon followed Pete then Joe. While they busied hyping the crowd Patrick stomped his feet and clapped his hands.

"...Am I more than you bargained for yet?"

His voice resonated inside the venue like it was his for the taking. The crowd cheered and flopped their arms up in the air, allowing themselves to be conquered by the music, but the blue-eyed man dared not to stare at the wondrous effects of his actions. Strange how the voice of the king belonged to a shy guy.

The opposite was said for one of the audience, (Y/n) (L/n). She only discovered them a month ago after her best friend handpicked a record. The cover only depicted four men sitting down but she opted it had an ineffable aura and bought it.

Although she's a recent fan, that didn't stop her from screeching and flailing around nonstop. When she heard the transition for Sugar she immediately shook her friend Brendon's shoulder into a smoothie. Fortunately, before the brunette could mutter a glimpse of a complaint, Patrick sang the first line and began seizing like her.

If it wasn't obvious, (Y/n) couldn't take her eyes off the lead singer, and it's not because singers are placed in the middle. She's scared to admit, but the reason she bought the record is that his seafoam eyes drowned her in.

Sadly, those ocean orbs never stared back to anyone.

As the song reached its last chorus, the crowd got predominantly louder. At first (Y/n) thought it was because Pete licked his bass, but it was for a different reason.

Let's be honest, it wasn't her fault she didn't know. But it sure felt embarrassing as hell, seeing banners and face cutouts for Patrick's birthday.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY PATRICK!!" The front row yelled spontaneously, then the lower box, upper, until it reached gen ad. The masses displayed all their love and affection, so Patrick couldn't help but smile and shrug sheepishly. He appreciates the gesture, unlike Pete however, he doesn't know how to act in this situation.

On the other hand, (Y/n) looked at her friend in disappointment, as if saying they could've made something for him like the others. It's a good thing that instead of moping, they'd rather scream their love from the top of their lungs in unison, and they decided it was the right time to do so when the noise was about to settle down.

"I LOVE YOU!!"

Patrick flinched so hard it nearly cost him a neck fracture. That voice was so familiar it blocked out all others. When he found what might be the source of the yell, time halted.

The stunning hair and soul-penetrating eyes definitely brought more life to such an exquisite sound. She flooded Patrick with both pleasure and sadness at once. He was almost sure it'll leave a bitter aftertaste.

She looks much like (N/n).

(N/n) was Patrick's biggest love whom he admired at school. She had his heart ever since she helped him create a sand castle back in kindergarten and nurtured his feelings as time flew by. Everyone knew this except the girl herself, which made things a bit more complicated. His feelings were so strong to the point it's used for blackmail. It's a shameful example but when he was at the age of nine he still drank milk from a sippy cup. He wouldn't budge and none of his parent's attempts worked until they threatened him that they'll snitch and tell (N/n). He stopped in fear of lowering the way she thought of him after. When he told the story, the band laughed. Even Andy, who's usually empathetic, wheezed and labeled him a lovesick idiot.

Fate, however, made things worse as he had to move places and leave both Chicago and her alone. But his feelings for her never faltered, in fact, it proved the saying absence makes the heart grow fonder. His devotion earned him some snarky remark and failed blind dates. He just couldn't help but compare them to the one everytime. Good thing his bandmates respected his decision to take a break from dating.

Now, nearly a decade later they locked eyes, making (Y/n) the first audience Patrick truly acknowledged and wished to impress.

His breath hitched and hers did too. Holy Smokes he was nervous.

A strange aura connected them the minute she got a clear picture of his face. She was puzzled instantly, she couldn't differentiate whether it's oh nostalgia or she's just starstruck-ed.

It didn't matter at the moment, because they've been snared by each other's eyes.

Oh God Patrick! Breathe in, breathe out!

Joe was the first one who caught up, having to nudge him back to reality and Brendon had to check (Y/n) if she needed water.

"Hey (Y/n), dude you okay?" He asked causing her to cackle "I-I literally made eye contact with Patrick Stump how am I fine??"

He chuckled "Good point"

He looked back on stage and caught a glimpse of Patrick staring at his friend before quickly turning away "Man, this guy gets the best surprise parties. Meanwhile I didn't even got a fanfic written for my birthday"

(a/n: sorry bren)

For the rest of the concert, the lead couldn't take his eyes off of her, at least he tried for three songs before he completely lost control. She's simply irresistible. And, breathtaking. Literally

But she's also accompanied by an equally handsome boy. The fact tempered his spirits, especially when the stranger wrapped his arm around her. Why wasn't it him instead?

Oh, because he had to move out.

By the end of the show, Patrick had been dead set on finding the "(N/n) lookalike" and dashed to the exit before anyone else.

He coasted through the group of fans. Once he was in an acceptable distance to yell her name, he was dogged tired.

Brendon inserted his car keys and (Y/n) placed her head against the Chevrolet's window with both eyes closed.

"(N/n)!!"

She looked up and the two gawked as they saw Patrick Stumph waltz towards them.

She furrowed her eyebrows, tired and dazed. His speaking voice is as angelic as his singing voice.

"How did you know my name?" She asked sedately, unlike on the inside, she's screaming questions like the aforementioned and some about how unpredictably calm she is 4ft away from him.

He smiled sadly.

"I... just heard it from when you were talking earlier— not that I eavesdropped I just happen to walk by!... Umm, God, I sound like a creep"

She giggled and his heart surged up his throat. She didn't expect a conversation with one of the band members would be so calm, especially seeing how wild they perform, and he didn't expect her not to "remember" him either. So in his logic, it's kind of a tie.

"Happy birthday by the way" She greeted. Patrick grinned and tipped his hat "Thanks"

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Her friend asked.

"Yeah" The blonde nodded his head "D-Do you guys wanna come with us in (restaurant name)? We're celebrating my birthday there since it's been a while since I been in Chicago and thought the more the merrier..."

'Really Patrick? That's your excuse?' He shrugged off his internal monologue

Although (Y/n) is sick of eating pizza daily in that place she couldn't help but accept the second he invited her.

He glanced up "Your boyfriend can come too if you'd like"

The boy laughs "Sure, but I'm not her boyfriend. My name's Brendon,"

He shook his hand and gave a genuine smile. Patrick wanted to do a victory dance on the spot so bad

"Great!" Patrick clapped. "Not great as in you're-not-in-a-relationship great. The I'm-glad-you-guys are coming great, I mean" he flushed

Brendon raised an eyebrow but laughed anyway.

"We'll pick you guys at 7" Patrick muttered and left. The time was 6:44 so they have to wait for about 6 minutes.

The two friends leaned on the van, left alone. It was silent for a while before her friend began to talk.

"When was the last time people called you (N/n)? I haven't heard anyone called you that at all..."

"They use to back in high school, but only people who are super close to me get to say that without getting kicked where the sun don't shine"

"So that means...?"

She sighed and finger combed her hair.

"He was the one that got away"

[oumiyuki]

I know it's not properly your cup of tea, but, n.11 YouHane?

She likes me, She likes me not

Summary: In which Yoshiko’s confession of love to You fails miserably three times and she hopes the fourth works. Cross her heart and hope to fly.  

Prompt: when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

Pairing: You x Yoshiko

Genre: Romance

Words: 2642

Author Notes

Hey, I love YouHane too, okay! I drink this cup of tea too! >3

May you enjoy~

“She likes me… she likes me not… she likes me… she likes me not…”

“When will you stop doing that, zura? It’s been a month already…”

“The flowers…” Ruby mutters sadly.

“It can’t be helped okay! It’s not my fault!” Yoshiko snaps as she plucks the last petal of the flower she picked from the school garden again.

“How is it not.” Hanamaru stares at Yoshiko with deadpan eyes. “Every time it stops with “she likes me” you react with “There’s no way she likes me right??” and pluck another the following day. And if it lands on “she likes me not” you freak out like it’s the end of the world, zura.”

“Noooooooo don’t expose meeeeee” Yoshiko covers her ears and shakes her head back and forth – the exact action of a person in denial.

“Some Fallen Angel you are.” Hanamaru pushes the dark-haired girl’s buttons.

“Urk.” Yoshiko stops mid-shake and after a second, “Kukuku…As if flower divination will determine whether a mere mortal has deep affections for me or not! I, the Great Yohane will-”

“Confess to her.”

“Confess to her- WHAT?” Yoshiko shrieks and jumps off the chair she once posed proudly on.

“Confess to her.” Ruby agrees with her best friend.

“I can’t-”

Hanamaru’s challenging stare and Ruby’s expectant gaze made Yoshiko flinch and sighs.

“I’ll confess to her…” Yoshiko mumbles.

“Good! I expect good results tomorrow, zura.” Hanamaru nods happily; perhaps this would spell the end of the reduction of flowers in the world due to a lovesick, cowardly, self-proclaimed teenage fallen angel who happened to have a crush on the school’s popular and loved high-dive team ace who was not only rumoured to be hot, they personally knew how the ash-brunette was a knight right out of the fairy tales with that charming and paralyzing smile. “It’ll go okay right..?”

“Ruby thinks it’ll go okay.” Ruby smiles a small smile of assurance, not revealing her conversation with their senior a few days back.

You skilfully sews the thread in and out, in and out before pausing for a moment to look to Ruby. “Hey, Ruby-chan…”

“Yes?” Ruby stops mid-work to give the ash-brunette her fullest attention.

You wore a distant look as she thought. “Do you think Yoshiko-chan is okay? She’s been kind of distant recently…like when I greet her she screams and runs away. Or when I sit next to her on the bus she scoots all the way to the corner to avoid me… Do you think she hates me?”

Ruby blinks, twice. Then nibbles her bottom lip to stop herself from telling You about Yoshiko’s feelings. “Um… I think you’re overthinking things…”

“Really?” You hums thoughtfully. “Does she do that to you too?”

“No, it’s only cos it’s You-chan.” Ruby giggles softly behind the fabric.

You furrows her eyebrows at that; what was that supposed to mean? “Should I continue trying to break the ice?”

Ruby considers that for a moment before nodding. “I think so. Yoshiko-chan will appreciate that.”

You chuckles. “I hope so. I’d like to win her over, you know! I’m not scary at all.”

Ruby presses her lips tightly together this time to avoid squealing that she wants You to actively go and win Yoshiko’s heart indeed; all it takes is one move. And also to not say that Yoshiko isn’t scared of You, just tripping badly for You. “Do your rubesty.”

You nods and smiles a winning smile. “I’ll do my rubesty!”

Yoshiko’s first idea of a confession was to fall on You.

It really wasn’t planned but Yoshiko wouldn’t admit to that; not even if admitting it can stop a horde of undead attacking the school or stop Hanamaru from giving her looks of pity.

Yoshiko was camping outside of the school gates, waiting to ambush You when her senior arrives at school earlier for swimming practice. A time when no one was to overhear her confess her massive crush for the ash-brunette and not catch them in any act of lovey-doveyness after You accepts her feelings such as a k-k-ki-ki-kis- a contact of lips.

The blue-haired girl’s face flushed red at the imagination of You and her smooching, so she paces back and forth, back and forth, at the gates until she decides she needed more walking, so she headed into the school to pace the floors too. All that pacing to clear her head caused her to almost miss You however as the ash-brunette walked through the gates just when Yoshiko was on the second floor.

“You!” Yoshiko’s eyes bulged at the sight and slammed her hands on the window sill overdramatically.

You looks up at the sound of her name and she breaks into a wide smile and huge wave at the first-year. “Oh! Ohayoshiko!”

Yoshiko’s heart raced at the bright smile You flashed her, so her composure was already further broken down, to make things worse she just had to retort with “It’s Yohane-” and kick against her ankle to splendidly send herself falling out the open window.

You dropped her bag immediately and miraculously caught her junior in her arms, it helps that Yoshiko has a way of falling down in a sitting manner too. You lets out a huge sigh of relief when Yoshiko was safe with her instead of somewhere in the air or splat on the ground. “Are you alright, Yoshiko-chan?”

“…” Yoshiko’s silence made You search the first-year’s face for any signs of pain. But she couldn’t find any except Yoshiko’s face seems to be gradually turning tobasco sauce red and it was kind of worrying.

“Hey-”

“Yohane-It’s-Yohane-and-I-may-or-may-not-have-a-crush-on-you and-you’re-super-cute-and-handsome and-I-hope-you-don’t-understand-me and-understand-me and-you-should-just-drop-me-right-now but-I-would-stay-here-forever-then-my-heart-is-gonna-die-whyyyyyy. See you!” Yoshiko flailed in You’s arms for a good minute after stunning You into confusion with a really high-pitched and epic chant and finally managed to scramble out of You’s swooning-device also known as arms and made her way for the school building again to hide.

“…”

“Huh…” You lowered her hands after five minutes and frowns. “Yoshiko-chan really doesn’t like me…”

Five hours of sighing passed and Yoshiko goes for her second attempt at confessing her feelings for You.

Spotting the ash-brunette leave her classroom to move to another venue for the next class, Yoshiko takes three deep breaths before stepping out of the wall she was hiding behind, putting on a brave smile to act like it was all a big coincidence to see each other right now. “Hey… You…”

You’s lips morph into a smile at the sight of Yoshiko who even said hi to her first instead. “Hey. Watcha’ doing here?”

“It’s…” Yoshiko croaks and she laments the fact that You’s smile makes her knees weak and her brain reduced to that of a slime’s. “It’s my school.”

You chuckles. “True.”

Yoshiko fidgets on the spot, stepping from side to side and hands wringing one another as she started feeling extra nervous and sweating on any exposed skin. Why was it so hard to just tell the girl she likes her?

You cocks her head to the side questioningly, wondering what’s gotten into the first-year. Sure Yoshiko was usually weird and up to antics, but the dark-haired girl seemed to be turning a similar shade of red like this morning after the impromptu skydive so You couldn’t help but worry a little. “Yoshiko-cha-”

“I…I you…I… like…Out…Please…Me…With…” Yoshiko’s lines of confessions came out as a stutter of singular words and You’s confused look made Yoshiko imagine humiliation and despair so the first-year simply snatched You’s textbooks from her hands out of panic before slamming it back in You’s arms and running off yet again.

“Wait, Yoshiko-chan! I… Could walk you to class if that was what you wanted..?” You frowns again; what does Yoshiko not like about her? Did her textbook do something wrong? You wasn’t the best at riddles when she wasn’t told beforehand that a riddle was coming up too so she wasn’t quite sure what “I, I, you, I, like, out, please, me, with” meant.

Aqours dance practice was in session and Yoshiko decided she was going to break down her confession into various parts since she couldn’t say the words “I love you” consecutively, properly, and clearly at one go to You’s face. Stepping on You really was not intentional.

Yoshiko finishes her stretches after everyone has done theirs and the moment it was time to get into formation and dance, the first-year kept her eyes locked on You and just quick-stepped over, which was a mistake since she miscounted the distance and stepped down on You’s feet that was dancing to the ash-brunette’s rightful position.

“Ah-”

“Sorry, I-” Yoshiko stops there and rushes back to her supposed spot and You could only reply with an expression of it’s okay before continuing dancing.

The second time, Yoshiko backstepped into You’s toe when she should be in front. “Sorry, just-” Yoshiko leaves her sentence hanging and dances to the front as she should’ve been.

You had shoes on and Yoshiko wasn’t too heavy, so You kept up with the dance routine. But the third time, Yoshiko literally jumped onto her feet and she wonders if this was a roundabout manner of the first-year’s upset with her for a reason she can’t find. “Sorry, want-”

Want? If Yoshiko wanted something she should just tell You straight-up, not attempt to make her unable to walk. You shakes her head with a gentle smile so Yoshiko doesn’t blame herself or anything. “It’s okay.”

Fourth time. “Sorry, to-”

Fifth step. “Sorry, say-”

Sixth. “Sorry, I-”

The seventh time, Yoshiko truly did stumble over Riko’s feet to crash into You’s space and smoosh the ash-brunette’s feet once again, but this was kind of part of the plan, right? So Yoshiko continued the next part of her confession, “Sorry, love-”

“Love?” You sported a hint of a blush overlapping with the heat of dancing.

Realization hit Yoshiko fast and hard like a truck that drove out of a bent you least expected and she vomited out the next string of incoherency. “Gaa- shi- nooo, that’s not what I said!!” Yoshiko fled.

You was left standing there with a overly stepped on feet, feeling utterly confused and weirdly heartbroken as she waved away the rest of the girls’ concern as she heads home.

Yoshiko calls You out to the rooftop of her apartment building via text. It was late, like 9pm late, where it was dark out and cold and she wasn’t sure if You would still speak to her after today’s events but You actually responded with an ‘Okay’. So here was Yoshiko, in a cardigan that felt too thin against the strong winds of an Autumn night’s rooftop waiting for You to come by.

Ten minutes and You walked through the doors of the rooftop looking charming even in a plain tee and short shorts (which did a lot to Yoshiko’s libido) with just a hoodie jacket for warmth. Yoshiko wishes she warned the ash-brunette about the cold night beforehand when she saw You shiver a little before waving to Yoshiko. “Hey…My feet are fine…If you’re wondering.”

Yoshiko clears her throat and hangs her head low. “Yeah…Sorry about that…”

You’s lips twitched a little and waits again. “So, er…” Yoshiko shows that she has her phone in her hand and she was typing and looks up to You when You’s phone buzzed in her pocket. “Okay..?” You reaches for her phone and jolts at the words.

“I love you”

“I-” You looked up to Yoshiko who frantically tapped at her phone before You’s phone vibrated in her hands.

“More than friends”

You swallowed as she read the next sentence. She did think that Yoshiko meant it in a friendly way so that cleared up a misunderstanding, only to make You want to say something again but her phone vibrates once more.

“More than club mates”

You’s cheekbones couldn’t help but push upwards a little at that; friends were already closer than club mates, no? Another vibration.

“More than bus-riding buddy”

That too. You’s quite sure that friends top club mates or bus-riding buddies. But You smiles at that. She didn’t know she owned a title of Bus-riding Buddy with Yoshiko. She was on the train of thought that she was The Senior Yoshiko Dislikes for Unknown Reasons. You felt warmer now.

“More than the Ancient Sealed and Lost Dark Ritual Book”

Okay, now You felt really special but couldn’t quite tell how special she was supposed to be to Yoshiko when compared to a book that was supposedly lost already, according to its name. You takes a step forward and Yoshiko takes a step back, fingers still a furious warrior to her phone’s keyboard.

“If you…”

You glances to her phone and steps to Yoshiko again.

“If you like me too…”

You reads the words and continues closing the distance between Yoshiko while the first-year has her back to the wall now.

Yoshiko looks behind her to give the wall a look before taking in a huge breath and stared You in the eyes. Wrong move; for that didn’t last longer than a second when Yoshiko’s heart couldn’t withstand how beautiful You’s ocean blue hues glimmer with whatever You was thinking and feeling at the moment and Yoshiko needed another deep breath to calm her racing out of control heartbeat. “Will you…go out with me?” Yoshiko manages to say at least that line out loud, albeit squeaky nervous.

You’s lips naturally morphed into a lopsided smile as she pocketed her phone and put one of her hand on the wall behind Yoshiko. “Say all of that out loud to me, Yoshiko-chan.”

Yoshiko glared weakly at You’s full, red, slightly dry lips. “I-I can’t.”

You feigned a pout. “You don’t love me enough to do it?”

“You!” Yoshiko croaks with disbelief that You would even think that she doesn’t love You like a lot but asking her to do the impossible was simply well…impossible.

You holds back a chuckle. “Sorry…love.”

Yoshiko groans and buries her face in her hands and although part of her just wanted to cry and run away, she mumbled. “Shut up and kiss me…”

You already found her answer to Yoshiko’s behaviour, and knew her answer to  Yoshiko’s confession, but being asked for a kiss by her beautiful junior, when said junior was being illuminated by the dim, orange glow of the rooftop’s old lamps which not only brought out the curve of Yoshiko’s pale cheeks and shimmering violet eyes, it gave You the impulse to obey and press her lips to Yoshiko’s before she could think twice.

Yoshiko’s eyes were wide but before she could fully savour the feeling of her first kiss, You pulls away to whisper, “I’m sorry, are you sure you-”    

Yoshiko slams her lips back onto You’s for a good amount of time. “When I say shut up and kiss me, You…” Yoshiko presses her lips hard on You’s again as You returns the pressure and fervour. “I mean it.”

You smiles as she’s being kissed and sloppily kisses back. She could tell Yoshiko was getting annoyed at her from the way her girlfriend (no other way You wanted it) was gripping her shirt tightly and kissing her hard, but she couldn’t help that silly grin of hers. “I’m kissing you.”

Yoshiko groans and suckles You’s bottom lip she found way too alluring as revenge though that simply made You wrap her arms around Yoshiko causing the dark blue haired girl’s ears to burn hotter than it ever did as she could feel how strong You was and her hands against the toned front of You’s shirt made Yoshiko’s mind wander.

“I love you…” Yoshiko’s thumb caresses You’s slightly swollen lips.

You grins cheekily. “Wasn’t too hard right…love?”

“Ugh, drop it already.” Yoshiko pinches You’s smiling cheeks; a mix of tough and squishy; addictive; hers. 

Author Notes

-leans against the wooden bookshelf with an attempt at a sultry and confident smirk- Hey… How was the story?

(Okay, okay, I know. I’m not Cool-type.) (´∀`)

Who would’ve thunk that this prompt would turn into this right?

Ahh, anyways~ I hope y’all thoroughly enjoyed this story! And would be willing to let me know which are your favourite part(s)! XD

Last but not least, I just want to say I love-

(is my favourite part (^_-))

YouYoshi suki dayo!!

[iliketowrite1996]

Tying Shoelaces and New Faces part 9

 TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- SINGLE PARENTHHOOD, LIES, ILLUSIONS OT ONE NIGHT STANDS, MENTIONS OF DIVORCE

Intomba- ‘’Daughter’’ in Xhosa.

‘’Nah, man. Can’t babysit tonight. Got plans,’’ Erik tells T’Challa, and from the noise coming from his side during their phone call, T’Challa can tell that his cousin is moving something around.

   ‘’Oh? What do you have planned, N’Jadaka,’’ T’Challa inquires curiously.

   ‘’Plans,’’ his cousin says flatly, because he truly is a turd.

   ‘’N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’I got a date with his girl. Fine as heck, chill as can be. It’s gonna be great.’’

   ‘’Ohhh, so you’re going on a date,’’ T’Challa smirks.

   ‘’Aye, man, wipe that goofy looking smirk off ya face. It ain’t even like that.’’

   ‘’N’Jadaka, you haven’t been on an actual date in two years. Now all of a sudden you have plans with someone? She must be special.’’

   There’s a momentary pause before N’Jadaka breathes on the other side.

   ‘’She is, man. I’m just tryna see where this goes, ya know?’’

   T’Challa knows very well.

   No one knows, but he’s really excited about his first date with you. So excited, in fact, that he realizes he hasn’t felt this way since Nakia.

   It’s odd feeling now, but it is certainly not unwelcomed by him.

   ‘’You’ll have to tell me about it at dinner tomorrow,’’ he insists, ‘’I’ve tot go to. I’m taking Autumn on our weekly Saturday daddy-daughter time.’’

   ‘’Sounds good, man. Tell Little Bit I love her. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’

   The cousins say their ‘’Goodbyes before T’Challa heads off to Autumn’s room, where he finds his babygirl still dressed in her pajama and staring at her clothes, little finger tapping against her chin.

   ‘’What are you doing, intomba?’’

   ‘’Trying to decide on an outfit.’’

   She currently has her cranberry, corduroy cardigan with the pink turtleneck and tights, her overalls with the multicolored sweater, and her jeans with her black turtleneck, with pink flowers embroidered on it.

   ‘’Hmm, can I help?’’

   ‘’Of course, baba!’’

   ‘’Why don't you wear this dress tomorrow to dinner,’’ he points to the outfit, ‘’And you can wear this overall outfit right now.’’

   ‘’Sounds good!’’

   ‘’Great! Now, go get washed up and come back so I can help you get changed.’’

   Getting Autumn Elizabeth Udaku ready is a process.

   First he sends her to wash up.

   Then he sends her back because she definitely did not do to the first time.

   Then he helps her get dressed.

   Then he does her hair.

   This is the department that is trickiest for him. His hair is thick, but it’s cropped short. He moisturizes it and gets it cut every so often and keeps it moving.

   Autumn has length and thickness of her hair. When down, in its curls, it grazes her shoulder.

   So T’Challa just usually pulls it into a bun, and Erik does it for his baby cousin when he can.

   Right now, he’s sliding rain boots onto her little feet, ready to head out for their day of adventures.

   ‘’Put your coat on,’’ he tells her, dusting off his jeans from where she had her foot before sliding his own shoes on.

   The dynamic duo are out of the door fairly quickly, all things (Autumn taking forever) considered.

   T’Challa always takes her through the park if the weather permits. It’s nearly November and it is cold, but the sun is shining so he does so.

   Autumn kicks the leaves as she has done every single day that he’s taken her to school this week, picking up her favorite ones and placing them into her little bag.

   ‘’Baba, where are we going?’’

   ‘’To the children’s museum. They have a new exhibit that I believe you will like,’’ T’Challa informs his daughter, stopping to pick her up and place her on his hip so that he can carry her.

   ‘’Yay! Is it about movies?’’

   She’s bringing it up because he watched two movies with her last night, to make up for cutting move night a bit short last week because of his date.

   T’Challa doesn’t regret the date. Not in the slightest.

   But Autumn Elizabeth Udaku will  always come first, and he knows that you’ve already accepted that.

   Maybe that’s why he finds himself already falling for you.

   ‘’Actually, yes! It’s about some old movies that your grandpa and I used to watch together,’’ T’Challa confirms.

   His little girl is practically buzzing with anticipation as they reach the ticket booth and he buys three tickets.

   Confusions sets into her soft features as she counts the tickets and then herself and T’Challa.

   ‘’Why is there one more?’’

   ‘’Because Auntie Shuri wanted to spend time with her favorite niece!’’

   Autumn squeals as she turns to find her Auntie behind her, reaching out for her as she does so.

   T’Challa elts his little girl leave his arms as Shuri holds her close, pressing a kiss to her smoothed back curls, ‘’Look at you! You’ve grown so much!’’

   ‘’Baba says I’m getting taller every day,’’ the little girl beams proudly, showing off her tooth gap, ‘’Someday I will be as tall as him.’’

   T’Challa watches fondly as two of his favorite young women catch up, Shuri carrying the four-year-old into the museum.

   Autumn absolutely adore the exhibit, especially the one about the musical she used to watch with her bhabi in rainy days.

   ‘’Do you like that one,’’ Shuri had asked her niece after getting permission to take a picture of the young girl in front of the exhibit.

   Autumn nods enthusiastically, eyes wide with curiosity and the need to explore.

   She looks so much like Nakia when she does that, that T’Challa can see how she truly is a perfect blend of their personalities and features.

They exit the exhibit an hour after they arrive, T’Challa holding one of Autumn's hands as Shuri holds the other.

The little girl is enthralled with playing with the sand at the ‘’Dinosaur Exhibit’’ when Shuri turns to her brother.

‘’Who’s the girl?’’

T’Challa turns to her with wide eyes, ‘’W-what?’’

‘’You’re grinning all goofy and lovesick-like. Who’s the girl? There obviously is one,’’ Shuri shrugs, tossing her braids over her shoulder.

‘’What do you know,’’ T'Challa raises an eyebrow at his younger sister.

‘’More than you,’’ she mirrors his expression.

‘’Just someone I’ve been on one date with. We are meeting up again tonight,’’ he tells her, because there truly is no point arguing with Shuri.

‘’I see. Do baba and mother know?’’

‘’No, and I’d like to keep it that way,’’ he stresses, ‘’Until I see if something is going to come of it.’’

He really hopes that something does, but he won’t tell her that.

‘’Ahh, forbidden love,’’ she nods sagely, as if she has the wisdom of an elderly woman,’’Been there?’’

‘’Shuri, what?’’

‘’I’m kind of seeing this guy from my class. He’s really wet, really smart. Kind of a dork. Has a thing for old pop culture references.’’

‘’Do our parents know,’’ T’Challa questions, training his eyes back on Autumn.

‘’Mother does. Baba does not. Not yet, at least. You know how he can be.’’

‘’Protective,’’ T’Challa nods with a sigh.

‘’Yeah, that,’’ she shakes her head, ‘’I don’t want to hear it from him now. It would make things complicated.’’

That’s part of why T’Challa has not told N’Jadaka about his dates with you. The fewer people that know,t he better for the two of you.

Why invite the outside mess in before you know if there is going to be any business for them to even get into?

‘’Your secret's safe with me, brother. But I say we go get my niece and grab an early dinner. I’m hungry.’’

T'Challa thanks his baby sister with a smile before the pair retrieves Autumn and head out, looking for a kid-friendly restaurant to enjoy.

They settle on a pizza place, and Shuri is wiping Autumn’s face with a napkin as T'CHalla receives a text from you.

‘’Can’t wait for tonight! Dress casually, wear something you don't’ care  messing up’’

Thank goodness for Shuri being able to babysit Autumn tonight.

He can’t imagine where you’re taking him, but he knows that it'll be great because he’ll be with you.

He looks to Autumn, who is giggling as she and Shuri blow bubbles in their drink, because he can’t take them anywhere.

‘’Eh, stop that,’’ he chuckles at the two.

He has a great baby sister, wonderful daughter, and a date with you to look forward to.

Could this day get any better?

The day could not get any better form that moment, but it certainly did get awkward.

T’Challa found out that you wanted to go play paintball. That’s cool.

You bring along Sanaa and wait for her date. Alright.

Her date is N’Jadaka Udaku himself, who is looking at T’Challa like he’s struggling to put the pieces together.

   When you return from the bathroom to join them, he does.

   ‘’We gon’ talk later,’’ he says, shooting T'Challa a look before putting on his gear.

   It’s you and T'Challa against him and Sanaa, and you have a blast. Erik and Sanaa are a match, because they both break into the same happy dance and are already finish each other's sentences.

   ‘’So,’’ Erik turns to his cousin as you and Sanaa head to the bathroom before you all leave to go get dinner, ‘’You finally asked Little Bit’s teacher out.’’

   His tone and expression are both unreadable, so T'Challa treads lightly, carefully.

   ‘’Yes…’’

   A bright grin spreads across N’Jadaka’s face, and T’Challa feels relief washing over him like water, ‘’THAT’S MAH BOY.’’

   ‘’Keep your voice down, N’Jadaka!’’

   ‘’Look At my little cousin, man, taking chances and going on dates and getting numbers.’’

   ‘’I am literally a month younger than you, N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’Don’t care, man,’’ Erik shrugs as he sees it and Sanaa returning, ‘’We gon’ talk about this some more later.’’

   It’s communicated only through a hand pat on the back, but N’Jadaka supports him. So the fact that another important person in his life supports this enough.

   T’Challa don't miss the fact that N’Jadaka sends him a smirk when he notices you intertwining your finger with his.

   He has his hand on your knee during dinner, gripping tightly as you two finish your food.

   ‘’Erik and I are gonna hit up a party. Don’t wait up,’’ Sanaa hugs you before turning to T’Challa and shaking his hand, ‘’Bye, T’Challa. It was nice to meet you.’’

   ‘’Likewise, Sanaa,’’ he states before looking to Erik, ‘’I will see you tomorrow, N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’See you, man. Catch you later.’’

   Sanaa and Erik walk off, and you somehow doubt that, even if nothing major happens, she’ll be home tonight.

   T’Challa grabs your hand again, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he guides you to the car.

   The car ride to your apartment is filled with laughter and chatter as you to rehash tells of your time playing paintball.

   ‘’N’Jadaka is his real name. Erik is the name he uses with new people and in school sometimes. Plus, it was easier for Shuri to say ‘Erik’ when she was younger, and now it’s easier for Autumn to say it.  If he likes you and trusts you, though, he lets you call him ‘N’Jadaka’.’’

   ‘’Good to know,’’ you nod, admiring their close relationship.

   ‘’Still mad at you.’’

   You gape at the handsome man, ‘’What did I do?!’’

‘’That girl, Annabelle.., yeah, we never should have let her join our team! We should've gone with her brother,’’ T’Challa shakes his head amused.

   ‘’She actually shoot paintballs at me, like, girl! We are on the same team! We just lost!’’

   ‘’Can we please discuss how N’Jadaka and Sanaa’s dance is the Cabbage Patch? Like, why is that both of their go-to dance?’’

   ‘’Because they are a match made, T’Challa,’’ you giggle.

   He sombers up a bit, eyes trained on the road,and you worry if you said the wrong thing.

   ‘’They really are. He seems happy. This was god for him, ‘’T'Challa says as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex.’’

   He pulls into a parking spot, turning off the car and pulling the key out of the ignition.

   ‘’So… I really like you,’’ T’Challa says, turning to you.

   ‘’I really like you, too, T’Challa.’’

   ‘’I’m not… I don’t want to rush into anything. I can’t afford to. Not with Autumn,’’ T’Challa reminds you.

   ‘’I know. I don’t, like… I don’t want to rush into this, either. It’s just not me, I can’t go fast,’’ you agree with him.

   ‘’I would really like to see you again,’’ T’Challa says earnestly.

   ‘’I’d like to see you again, too.’’

   ‘’Great! We can work it out for next weekend sometime. Um… can I kiss you again?’’

   You nod, and he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips like he did eight days ago.

   For some reason, the spark ignites a fire that burns inside you, and it is a fire of bravery. That is why you ask him: ‘’Do you want to come up?’’

   He nods, knowing that Autumn is safe and sound at his parent’ house.

   He has one thing he never seems to have enough of during the day: time.

   T'Challa won’t lie and act like he doesn’t want to spend it with you.

   ‘’I don’t want to, like… I don’t want you to think that…’’

   You trail off, trying to find the right words as ou fish for you keys.

   ‘’We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk. I just want to spend time with you.’’

   It’s softly spoken and sweetly stated,a node nothing but fan the flames of bravery that are rushing inside of you.

   So here you go.

   You talk.

   And talk.

   And talk.

   You discuss past relationships. How you haven't had someone since last year that you could just talk to like this.

   He tells you about his divorce and being a single dad.

   He loves her so, so rich that it makes you realize how truly they adore each other.

   He tells you more about Wakanda as you tell him more about your hometown, groin up, and your college years.

   His hand rests on your shoulder, playing with the fabric of your sweatshirt as you do so.

   And it’s nice, because you trust him. It has only been short while since you met, but there’s something about this man that you can’t quite explain.

   It’s just… nice.

   It’s twelve in the morning when he stands, grabbing his coat as you walk him to the door.

   ‘’Can I kiss you,’’ you ask this time.

   He chuckles and nods, pressing his lips to yours for the second time that night.

   This kiss is different, though. It deepens ,and suddenly his hands are in the pockets of your ripped,faded jeans as he lies across the couch, you on top of him. His lips are warm and full as they move against yours, and the only sounds are soft groans and the sounds of you two kissing.

   It’s hot and it’s passionate. This is not love, but it’s stronger than infatuation

   With a start, you realize what it is: potential.

   Potential for a relationship that could be well worth the leap you’d have to take.

Into possibly getting your heartbroken.

Into this not working out.

Into this being something beautiful.

He moans into the kiss, bringing you out of your thoughts.

He hasn’t been kissed like that in ages.

‘’That was amazing,’’ you breathe out as you sit up so that he can't stand up.

‘’It was,’’ he kisses you once more, letting your lips move together for a few more seconds, ‘’But I must get home.’’

You stand to let him out then, a final goodbye kiss punctuating the last sentence in the story of your second date.

You go to sleep with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your stomach.

Across the city, T’Challa does the same thing.

Something was born tonight: potential.

Potential for something great, a for a good and healthy relationship that the both of you deserve.

It’s up to you to grow that potential into a reality.

But based on the goodnight text and third date idea he just sent you before you went to sleep…

You have no worries about that being a problem.

DISCLAIMER- I DO NOT OWN MARVEL CHARACTERS OR THEIR FICTIONAL WORLDS, UNIVERSES, OR COUNTRIES. 

@ashanti-notthesinger​ @destinio1​ @afraiddreamingandloving​ @starsshines-blog​ @airis-paris14​ @syreanne​ @chaneajoyyy​ @90sinspiredgirl​ @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @bidibidibombaclaat @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx

[callmeakumatized]

Sugarcoated - Ch. 3

Prev. Ch. Ao3 FF.net

[[ A/N: So, this was supposed to have a countdown to Valentine's Day, but…I couldn't bring myself to post anything over the weekend. It was…hard? I don't know how to say it. It didn't seem right to go on as if nothing happened. Because something DID happen. And although my world is still turning, it seemed unfair to post something when so many other people's had sudden stopped.

Over the weekend, Maerynn, a pretty well-known Miraculous fanfic writer ("Under Lock and Key", "Bring Me Home", etc.), passed away in a car accident, leaving behind her loved-ones, including her children.

Although I didn't know her personally, something about her sweetness and the way that she seemed to bleed into everyone's lives in one way or another touched my heart deeply. She will be missed. A lot. Not just for her amazing works in writing, but for all the things she did to brighten others' lives. And so I want to dedicate this work to her, and to those who, like this miraculous lady, were unable to finish here on Earth what they started, whether works of art, raising your family, finishing a college degree, or finally saving up enough to travel the world.

This is for you.

And I hope, wherever you are, you know we're thinking of you.

And I hope, wherever you are, it puts a smile on your face.

xoxoxo - Maki<3 ]]

Day 3 Prompt:

“When your OTP is in an intense argument and their faces get closer together but then they stop talking…

…and they look at the others’ lips.”

Plagg was, in essence, naughty.

He was a naughty Kwami with low moral standards and a high interest in wreaking havoc. It was a dangerous combination in the best of creatures. Which Plagg was definitely not.

It took him about two minutes to decide that he was bored with Adrien and start wandering around the room, looking for sweets of some sort. This chick was small and cute, and, historically speaking, small and cute girls had an affinity for keeping yummy things close by. Plagg didn't know why. It just was.

When he spotted the cookies, he knew he was in luck.

Adrien continued to prattle away, but Plagg was enjoying a sound noseful of the delicious scent of warm chocolate. It wasn't cheese, true – not even remotely close on the scale of acceptable entrées for the picky Kwami – but the baked goods were fresh, the chocolate chips still gooey to the touch. But moments away from losing himself completely and sinking his tiny teeth into one of the delectable treats, he saw something that made his belly flip in all the best ways.

Because, of course, she would be here.

Of course his Ward would have a crush on the girl he also claimed was the bane of his existence.

The books exploded off the shelf in Plagg's sudden takeoff to chase the creature who had dashed behind them. Like he hadn't seen her. Like he couldn't smell her now that he knew she was there. Plagg wasn't deterred by a little game of chase – he was a cat. This was playtime for him. He completely ignored Adrien's shout to knock it off, instead zooming into the knitting basket with a fwoomf! Amongst the soft yarns the bounced and cool steel of the knitting needles, Plagg only had eyes for his prey: a little red Kwami, buzzing angrily beneath him.

Plagg threw his head back and laughed.

"String cheese," Adrien muttered through gritted teeth, "for a week if you don't knock it off!"

"Isn't that what I just did?" Plagg retorted smugly, gesturing to the books on the floor and in Adrien's hand.

Adrien scowled. Something in the last minute had caused Plagg have some sort of sudden, gleeful vendetta against Marinette's entire room. After knocking the books off the little shelf and then divebombing into a basket full of yarn, the kitten Kwami had set out to destroy everything, laughing like a maniac the entire time.

Was the little pest trying to get him in trouble with this girl!?

Adrien continued to mutter to himself while going about, attempting to right all the things Plagg had set out to destroy (Marinette hadn't organized her books that specifically that she would notice if one was out of place, right!?) When muttering angrily hadn't worked, threatening did; within a moment after saying the words, Plagg had conceded to Adrien's threat in lieu of low-grade cheese substitution, and was now "helping" (mostly by not destroying things. But Adrien wasn't going to complain).

A wood-on-wood rubbing sound drew Adrien's attention to were Plagg seemed to be having a tug-of-war match with one of Marinette's desk drawers, pulling on the handle with all his might. Adrien rolled his eyes before going over to help. A sudden squeak from under the drawer made Adrien jump; the drawer suddenly popped open, sending Plagg and a large assortment of papers flying through the room. Adrien groaned before scrambling hurriedly to snatch them up.

Now, could he really be blamed for looking at what was in his hands?

And could he really be in any sort of trouble when he looked in the rest of the drawer to see several of the same sorts of well, literal photographic evidence of something that made him incredibly happy? Giddy, even?

"Ugh!" Plagg said suddenly, breaking Adrien out of his reverie. "Take that lovesick look off your face! It's disgusting!"

Though Adrien couldn't very well remove his smile, fixed as it now was, he did rush to finish cleaning the rest of the room.

(Plagg, unbeknownst to Adrien, watched the added kick in the boy's step with a smug smile.)

Though Marinette and Adrien had never set anything in place "officially", the two had always sort of had an…understanding between each other. From the time his umbrella passed into her hands, the two had been somewhat inseparable. Now, there was no talk of "feelings", no DTR between them; the shy pair was too afraid to lose something that they ended up never starting anything. However, they were very exclusive in the sense that they wouldn't go out with anyone else. When someone else asked them out on dates, they would politely refuse. And when there was a school dance or other function, no one was ever surprised to see them go together, though they seemed to toe the line of "platonic" and "something more" every time. Moving past polite pleasantries was not in their repertoire.

For his part, Adrien was…well, Adrien was terrified.

What if she realized how socially inept he was?

What if she ended up not liking his sweet-sauce sense of humor?

What if she thought he was a complete dorkasaurus!?

So, no…Adrien made no move forward. Even though he desperately wanted to.

This, though? This tangible piece of evidence he had just stumbled upon? This gave him some hope in that department. And maybe a sweet stroke to his ego. Because, Adrien mused while he shoved the lot of them back into the drawer, why else would a girl have tons of pictures of a boy hidden in her room?

Without meaning to, Adrien giggled. Then turned on his Kwami, trying to look cross, as the situation demanded of him.

"You shouldn't have shown this to me," Adrien scolded, trying as hard as he could to actually mean the words. "I know you did that on purpose."

His Kwami only scoffed. The little cat had given up altogether in his pretend helpfulness at righting the room, settling instead on the plate of cookies, munching away happily (yes, taking a bite out of each one, just to annoy Tikki). With a loud swallow, Plagg finally answered nonchalantly,

"The drawer was stuck, you were helping me, end of story."

This time, Adrien scoffed in quick reply.

"That is not what happened. How did you even know these were there?"

The next few minutes were spent in an escalating argument, Adrien starting to really lay into Plagg about the mess he had made, and Plagg just rolling his eyes in response, or sassing his Ward with some well-placed words.

BANG.

Adrien let out a very manly yelp when the trap door suddenly smashed open.

Before Adrien could even get a good look at her – and before the lovesick smile could slide back onto his face, she was on him like butter on toast.

…She was smooth like butter, and he was definitely toast.

She had pounced on him hard enough that they went rolling across her bedroom, Adrien having no clue as to what was going on. All he saw were limbs and a hard floor until they stopped. Panting slightly, he looked at the girl now straddling him with arms on either side of his head, and felt his face blanch at the sight of her murderous look.

"This is going to be a really short fight, Chaton, if you don't decide to defend yourself." Marinette purred in a low voice before blowing stray hairs out of her face. "That's the only warning you get."

Haha…cute. She gave me a nickname.

Wait.

NO.

NONONONONONONONONO.

Adrien tried to deny it. He tried to convince every cognitive force in his brain to stop connecting the dots, to stop painting the complete picture in his head. But there it was anyway, a masterpiece framed in blue-eyed fury and midnight hair.

And now…what?

Now…

And now…

Chat had to win this.

Or…escape. Maybe both somehow.

In a practiced move, Adrien deftly flipped Marinette off of him. She landed onto her chaise lounge in temporary shock, and Adrien immediately headed for the trap door.

"Nope!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Not dealing with this right now! I'm out!"

"You are not!"

Ah, apparently escape was not in his cards today.

In a surprising stroke of good luck, Adrien was able to look around before Marinette was on him again. This time, he was ready. This time, it was so. ON.

Adrien casually moved out of the way of her aggressive attack, but instead of her running into her desk as he had planned, the small girl jumped up and scaled the vaulted wall before flipping back onto him. Adrien readied himself, allowing her momentum to take them both down before sliding out from under her and landing a swift kick on her back. With a small "oof!", Marinette skidded across the floor and twirled until she was on her feet. But Adrien was already on her, grabbing her hands behind her back and slamming her face-first into the window.

"I thought gentlemen weren't supposed to attack ladies," she growled out through heavy breathing.

"I'm glad you see me as a gentleman," Adrien retorted, equally winded, "but you are no lady."

Marinette barked out a laugh, dropping so suddenly to the ground that Adrien smacked his face into the window. Not wanting to lose the upper hand, Adrien spun around and dropped into a defensive stance, only to see Marinette a few feet away, ripping some sort of hanging projector screen from the ceiling under her loft bed. Her heated stare made him pause for a moment; the hesitation cost him, though, and in the next second, Marinette leaped up to easily gain the high – though unsteady – ground on the chaise lounge. Marinette swung at him when Adrien started to circle the little sofa like the predator he was.

"I can't believe you tricked me into liking you!" she yelled at him.

Adrien laughed humorlessly. "I can't believe you think I would do something like that." Another swing in his direction, and Adrien slowly made his way back to the disheveled desk. "Gall! I thought you were sane, Marinette, but you really are one crazy chick!"

"Takes one to know one!" she mimicked back at him in a mockingly sweet tone, using his own words from the night before.

Adrien grabbed a handful of books and started chucking them at Marinette. She started swinging her screen thing in her hands like a baseball bat. The books were flying in both directions across the room, creating a messy topping to the overall ruffled appearance of the pink space their tousle had caused. They continued tossing insults and books at each other, only pausing momentarily when Marinette urged Adrien in a suddenly normal voice, "Oh, not that one, that one's my design sketchbook."

Adrien put it down gently, then, in a sudden change of demeanor, dove for Marinette's ankles, succeeding in knocking her off balance. She toppled on top of him, her makeshift weapon, as Adrien had hoped, skittering onto the floor. With a sound shove, Adrien knocked Marinette completely off the lounge on the other side, leaving him free to pick up her discarded…schedule?

Adrien paused for a moment, scanning the detailed agenda curiously. Since when did Marinette have photoshoots? Or take fencing? Or have Chinese lessons…on the same days and times…as…him…wut.

Despite finding out that the constant thorn in his side was also this amazing friend in disguise, Adrien could not help feeling all the creeped-out flattery that came with this most recent discovery.

When he turned to Marinette and saw her horrified face, he grinned cheekily.

"Geez, Princess," he purred, laying his head on crossed arms on her lounge, staring at her. (If he was Chat Noir, his tail would be flicking excitedly.) "I didn't know you were so obsessed with me."

He expected to knock her off guard. He did not expect her to invade his space, leaning on her arms across the lounge until she was almost touching his nose.

"Totally obsessed, Adrien," she hummed in return, her voice low and quiet. "So much so, I'm just begging you to let me kiss your other cheek."

This time, Adrien took the first pounce. In one fluid movement, he had her pinned to the ground, body sitting on her legs, hands holding hers up by her head.

"I think that's enough playing around for you, M'Lady."

She struggled, grunting with the effort, and Adrien would've laughed at the scene if he hadn't had to concentrate every effort to maintaining his – probably brief – dominance.

"I hate that you're so nice to me!" Marinette suddenly shouted out at him furiously.

Adrien scowled, the words somehow making sense to him unlike how they wouldn't to any normal person.

"I hate that you always make me smile!" Adrien shouted back, leaning closer for emphasis.

"I hate your sunshine hair!" Marinette writhed under his hold, trying to wriggle free.

"I hate your pretty eyes!" Adrien spat out through gritted teeth.

Marinette suddenly paused, chest heaving from the roughhousing and probably from the physical pressure he was putting her. She stared up at him, and her face flushed red, though he didn't think it was from strain or effort. Her features relaxed slightly, and Adrien felt his own mouth clamp shut in subconscious response.

"You…think my eyes are pretty?" she whispered.

And yet Adrien could still hear her…because, somehow, they had gotten…so close.

He gulped.

"Yes," he whispered back

The only sound in the room was labored breathing between two teens.

She smelled faintly like sweat, and Adrien realized how hot she was under him.

Okay, not like that, but…okay, exactly like that.

Ladybug in civilian clothes…Marinette…Marinette dressed as Ladybug…covered in tight red spandex and saving Paris. Saving Paris with that dark hair and that fluttered playfully in the wind, the girl tough as nails yet cared so deeply for others. With those big blue eyes…and…a-and those pink…lips…

Without thinking much more about it, his eyes darted down to her lips and back again, in time to see that she had just done the same.

This time, Marinette gulped.

A little red blur suddenly started flitting around their heads, darting in between their faces. Adrien yelped in surprise – and, of course, again, in a very, very manly way.

"Wha – eh hem – what is it, Tikki?" Marinette said in a small voice. Adrien studied her face, noticing that for the first time she looked truly bothered.

"Oh, Marinette," said the tiny Kwami in a sugary voice, laced with…disappointment? "There's a lot I want to say, but right now, you're going to be late for school!"

Marinette looked passed her Kwami into Adrien's face. Adrien stared back for only a second before doing what was second nature for him to do around her, and grinned widely. Marinette frowned before shoving him off of her.

Adrien scrambled to his feet just in time to tug Marinette back by the arm before she descended downstairs. Clearing his throat, he shoved her into her closet.

"Hey!" she shouted and looked like she was going to lay into him again, but Adrien only held up a hand in abrupt dismissal.

"You, uh, you look like crap," he admitted harshly, remembering that she really at just attacked him…after biting his cheek the day before. But…he still cared enough about her to make sure she didn't go to school like…that. "You should change. I'll, uh, I'll cover for you."

Marinette only gave him a hard stare, seeming to be caught in conflicting emotions.

Adrien could relate.

Before Adrien made it down the stairs, though, Marinette called down from her room.

"Adrien!"

He looked back to see her head floating in the opening of her trapdoor.

"Fix your hair."

Five minutes before school started, and Adrien was standing in the guys' bathroom, trying to set his whoosh style back in place and staring at the mark on his cheek again. His Lady's mark.

He grinned  to himself.

Marinette's mark.

Somehow…everything bitter suddenly tasted very, very sweet.

[araliyaintheskywithdiamonds]

Loose Change- A CrissColfer Fic

Got a prompt for CoffeeShop!CrissColfer and kind of ran with it. 

Word Count: 2815 (G) AO3

Darren uses his questionable skills to get Chris’ attention in a Coffee Shop.

The boy who walks into the cafe is such a cliché it makes Chris’ writer brain hurt. He’s got dark curly hair that falls haphazardly into his eyes, low slung jeans, an ill-fitting t-shirt clinging to his almost comically compact frame, and a smile so brilliant it could cure cancer. The shirt, emblazoned with ‘Bernstein’s Theatre Club Presents: Fiddler On The Roof!’ across the front, stretches tightly across his shoulders and bunches up at his waist.

A prep-school theatre kid. Of course.

Chris would almost roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that he was literally a walking stereotype himself- sitting alone at a table in a fucking coffee shop, decidedly unstylish glasses perched on his nose, balancing his fingers on a laptop keyboard in the hopes that he could finally wring some words out onto the screen.

Words are usually his only outlet, and having writer’s block is like plugging up one of those flasks in chemistry class, watching as condensation collects and drips on the inside with the collecting pressure, but not being able to pull off the cork not matter how hard you try.

He likes theatre too, but he’s always getting cast as ‘Oak Tree Number Three’ or something equally obscure because the directors can’t seem to look past his high voice and slightly effeminate looks.

Chris drags himself out of what he knows is an impending wallow, and returns his attention to Frodo. He’s greeted the girl behind the counter so enthusiastically it makes them look like long lost lovers, and seems to be babbling incessantly about something that has the girl hanging on to his every word.

Chris could almost laugh at the way she leans forward imperceptibly, toying with the pendant around her neck in a way that she must think is subtle. He snorts inwardly. It’s not like Frodo’s that drool-worthy anyway. He’s kind of short, and there’s a bump on the bridge of his nose, and his curls are too wild, and his smile his too wide, and his eyes are too bright, almost a burnished honey colour- and no no no, stop for fuck’s sake, you’re losing it.

He’s straight anyway, Chris thinks bitterly, if the way Frodo runs his fingers flirtatiously along the girl’s arm is anything to go by. He’s had a long list of guys that have caught his attention, taken up pages and pages of Chris’ writing- (usually a lovesick mess that he deletes immediately afterwards in self-disgust) -that have turned out to be painfully unattainable. What else should he expect, in this backwards cowtown?

Oh God, he really is a cliché. Troubled writer itching to escape to the big city and chase his hopes and dreams while pining after boys he can never have? Check, check and check.

Fuck, he’s fast approaching dangerous wallowing territory again. Chris can’t do that or he’ll take fucking forever to get out. He instead distracts himself with Frodo, who is now talking to another guy who’s come out from the back room. How is this kid friends with everyone?

All three of them are in animated conversation- well, Frodo mostly, since he seems to be incapable of keeping his mouth shut for more than ten seconds. His arms flail excitedly as he speaks, and Chris catches something about basements and live shows and backups. He’s kind of a character, Chris thinks idly. Maybe he could work him into a story somewhere.

Chris startles out of his inner monologue when Frodo practically squeals, grabbing the new guy by the face and planting a smacking kiss on his cheek.

Oh.

Either Frodo enjoys flirting with anything that moves or that’s his boyfriend. It has to be the former- god, Chris hopes it’s the former, but what is he thinking, he doesn’t even know this guy. He could be gay or straight or taken or fucking betrothed- (who knows, straight people are crazy)- for all Chris could care, and of course he doesn’t care, why should he?

He doesn’t realise he’s been staring until New Guy gestures with his head over Frodo’s shoulder at him and they all turn to look.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Chris can feel himself flushing down to his roots, and he glues his eyes to his laptop screen as if they’ve been there all along. His face is probably burning up right now, he knows it. Are his glasses fogging over? Oh, for fuck’s sake-

Please look away, please look away, please look away, he repeats like a mantra.

They probably do eventually, but Chris wouldn’t know- he’s too busy staring at his reflection in the screen and silently sweating.

Nonchalantly, he begins to pack up his things, deciding that it would be better to leave than to suffer the awkwardness of facing them again.

Chris hears Frodo pay for something at the counter and speeds up his packing, hastily zipping up his laptop case. He barely gets his arms into the sleeves of his jacket when there is an almighty crash, and coins are suddenly pinging across the floor around his feet.

He looks up to find Frodo a couple of feet away, drenched in coffee, grimacing.

“Shit, are you okay?” Chris asks, scrambling out of his chair towards him and grabbing a wad of napkins off his table. Immediately he wants to hit himself because obviously this guy wouldn’t be okay, his shirt is literally steaming from the heat of the boiling milk.

Frodo accepts the napkins and winces as he peels away the material from his torso. “Thanks, man. I guess that was god telling me I never needed that extra sugar anyway, it would kind of all go to my old man paunch.”

He lifts his shirt and pats his stomach affectionately and Chris’ mouth goes dry because that is probably the furthest thing from an old man paunch he can think of. His face heats up and he deflects by dropping to the ground and scooping up change, if anything to stop himself from telling Frodo that.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to do that,” Frodo says amicably, crouching down next to him and swatting at Chris’ hands. “Let me.”

They collect up the coins, and Chris is slightly confused by how many there are. There’s about ten bucks worth of quarters and dollar coins, and he piles them into Frodo’s cupped hands. They probably didn’t have enough notes in the register, or something.

Frodo’s no longer paying attention to the coins in his palm and is now staring right at him, and Chris is suddenly hyper aware of how close together their faces are. He pulls back quickly, and in a severe overestimation of the space between him and the table, hits his head against it- hard.

Pain shoots right through his skull, his eyes watering, and Chris would be more concerned about the state of his cranium if he weren’t mortally embarrassed right now. Suddenly Frodo is the one asking if he’s okay, and holding out a (coin-free) hand to pull him out from underneath the table.

They’re still holding hands when Chris finally comes to his senses (good lord, another terrible rom-com moment), and he kind of stares down at their connected fingers before looking up- wait, no, down, at Frodo, who’s peering at him in concern.

“You okay? The sound of your head hitting that table kind of scared me.”

He lifts his hand to Chris’ hair, probably to feel for a bump, but Chris wouldn’t know because he’s an idiot, and jerks away from Frodo’s touch reflexively. He immediately feels bad, though, because Frodo looks like a kicked puppy.

“I’m fine,” he manages to get out, squeezing Frodo’s hand in apology before letting go, praying to the heavens above that he’s not as red as his face feels. Chris’ hand feels kind of empty without Frodo’s there and he busies himself, collecting up his neatly piled things still resting on that goddamn table.

“Oh, uh- are you going?” Frodo asks, eyes still huge and round and adorable and-

“Um, yeah? I kind of need to be home soon.”

“Let me buy you a coffee?”

Chris kind of dies inside but gestures to his empty coffee cup, still sitting on its saucer. He would’ve asked for a Diet Coke when he came in, but he wanted the true world-weary writer experience.

“I could buy you another? As a sorry for indirectly causing your almost-concussion?” Frodo suggests and why does he want to get Chris a coffee so much and how is this actually happening to him, but he raises an eyebrow gracefully (he hopes) and replies with a quiet,

“That was definitely due to my clumsiness, but sure.”

Frodo grins his million-watt smile, and Chris is practically putty inside when he tugs on the shoulder strap of Chris’ bag to lead them over to the counter.

“What are you having?”

Chris has decided he kind of hates coffee (soda’s doing well enough contributing to his daily dose of caffeine), so he asks for a hot chocolate, and Frodo repeats it back to Groupie Girl (whose name tag reads: Jess). She smirks and looks over to New Guy who rolls his eyes, and shit, he forgot that guy was still there.

“Hot chocolate coming right up for…?”

Chris startles out of his jealousy ridden thoughts of Frodo and New Guy doing decidedly non platonic things together and quickly gives his name before he can look like even more of an idiot in front of the three of them.

Once Jess has gone to the far end of the displays to prepare his drink, tugging New Guy with her, Frodo turns back to him and repeats, “Chris.”

“That’s my name.” He tries to make it sound flirtatious but it kind of comes out pained.

Frodo doesn’t seem perturbed, and holds out his hand for Chris to shake. “I’m Darren.”

Chris has to admit it’s a nice name, and it definitely suits him, although he’s kind of sad he doesn’t have an excuse to call him Frodo any more.  

“We’re kind of past introductions, now, aren’t we? I mean, we were kind of having a moment back there.”

Chris means it in a joking way, but Darren looks totally serious when he replies, “Yeah, we kind of were, huh?”

There’s a moment of silence as Chris feels the words sink in, and before he can lose all his inhibitions and do something completely atrocious such as kiss the guy, Jess is back with his hot chocolate.

Darren smiles at him again, his eyes flashing honey-gold, before turning out his pockets onto the marble countertop and emptying out the coins. Jess snorts with laughter and opens the register, which Chris is surprised to see is not at all lacking in paper money.

Darren painstakingly counts out $4.50 worth of coins and scoops the rest of them into a tip jar.

“Why did you pay him before in change?” Chris asks Jess, who passes over a brown napkin along with his drink.

“This guy specifically requested coins and not cash,” she responds, eyeing Darren, who coughs and mumbles something under his breath.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Jess mutters, looking over to New Guy, who grins at them as he serves another customer at the other till.

“Enjoy your drink”, she tells Chris, before picking up a dishcloth and heading over to the back of the store. When she’s gone, Chris raises a confused eyebrow at Darren, who actually seems to be blushing.

“I-uh, wanted to drop the coins,” he explains, slightly abashedly. “In front of you.”

“You wanted to drop coins in front of me,” Chris repeats.

“Uh, yeah? Because usually I do the falling thing- you know, where you deliberately trip over and they help you up and it’s cute and all? But I thought I’d look like kind of an idiot if I fell in front of you and what if I dropped my coffee on you instead and-”

“Woah, woah,” Chris interrupts, his mind slightly reeling. “Why would- why would you trip over, or drop your coins, or anything in front of me?”

Darren looks like him like he’s crazy. “It would have been a good way for you to notice me! I didn’t just randomly want to go up to you and ask for your number, so the next best thing would be to do something stupid as a kind of pickup line antecedent.”

“So you dropped coins,” Chris deadpans, trying not to betray his internal squealing because did he just say he wanted Chris’ number and also he just casually used the word antecedent, how is he even real-

“Come to think of it, they were kind of a lot of coins, so that might have made me seem more insane than usual,” Darren muses, maneuvering Chris out of the way of some customers peering at the displays. “I asked Jess for half coins half cash, but I think she wanted to sabotage my plan.”

“Your plan to ask for my number,” Chris confirms, because he’s still kind of in shock.

“Yep,” Darren says, walking with Chris out of the store as the bell jingles quaintly. He suddenly stops and looks down at his hand still on Chris’ arm and back up to his face. “You are into guys, right? Fuck, if not, I am so sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable- sometimes my gaydar fails me because I’m bi and all and-”

“It’s fine, Darren,” Chris laughs. “I am very gay. I mean, with the baby face and the high voice and all, people tend to assume- I’m not exactly subtle.”

Darren kind of squints confusedly.  “I only just guessed from the way you were staring at me just then. I didn’t think so before, not when I was watching you from outside-” He stops abruptly, grimacing when Chris’ eyes widen.

“You were watching me from outside?” Chris laughs, acting scandalized (even though he kind of is, just a little, because oh my god).

Darren’s blush rises fast, tainting his- ughh- tanned olive skin. “Oh, uh, yeah. I was on my way home, and I saw you through the window and I don’t know… I kind of felt like I had to talk to you.”

“Why?” Chris asks. He gestures vaguely to his off-brand clothing and wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m not exactly very interesting to look at.”

“Are you serious?” Darren looks so affronted that Chris kind of wants to laugh. “Well for starters, you had Harry Potter stickers all over your laptop, not to mention you’re like- beautiful.”

Oh.

Chris fiddles with the strap of his bag, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“It’s true,” Darren insists. “That and your whole intellectual smart guy vibe- I really just wanted to talk to you.”

“I wasn’t even doing anything very smart, though,” Chris protests. “I was just writing.”

Darren’s eyes light up. “Writing? Holy shit, that’s so cool, man! Now I really want to ask you out.”  

“I don’t even know you,” he counters.

Darren looks at his watch, a frayed and beaten thing that from the looks of the dial, must’ve been expensive. “I’ve got a couple hours until curfew. Do you still have to go home or are you willing to give me a chance?”

Chris takes one look at those puppy dog eyes, and in spite of himself, he melts. “Yeah, that was kind of a lie, what I said before. I’ve got time I can sacrifice.”

And that’s how he spends his Sunday afternoon. Instead of people-watching in an empty cafe, he’s sipping cold hot chocolate and trying to keep up with a crazy-haired teenager with hypnotizing eyes and an infectious smile. Darren drives them to a lookout a short while away in the mountains (I come here to write songs, Darren tells him) and they talk until dusk. Chris didn’t even know that he could spend more than an hour with a relative stranger without getting uncomfortable, but after a while he feels like he’s known Darren forever. It’s another agonising cliché, but it’s true.

Chris has to go eventually, after not four but five missed calls from his mom. Darren insists on dropping Chris off at his house, and Chris puts his number into Darren’s phone, knowing that he’ll soon be squealing giddily when he’s in the privacy of his own room.

Before he turns to leave, Darren pulls out a quarter that he seems to have salvaged from the coffee shop.

“I don’t want to be presumptuous,” he says, eyes sparkling, “but I’d like to buy a kiss.”

Calm, Colfer, calm. Aloof and graceful.

“You’re kind of a character, you know that?” Chris manages to get out.

“Really? Am I cool enough that you’ll write me into one of your stories?”

Chris rolls his eyes, pockets the quarter, and kisses him.