I Just Started Bucchigiri And Love Your Stuff!!! Can You Do One For Matakara Having A Crush On A New

i just started Bucchigiri and love your stuff!!! 😭 Can you do one for Matakara having a crush on a new transfer girl? She wears the boys uniform and a hoodie over her head so she doesn't get attention. He only finds out cuz she helped treat his wounds after a fight once and it's been their secret ever since

Thank you so much! Hope you like this!

Just Between Us

Matakara/afab!Reader

Summary: Matakara takes it upon himself to befriend the new introverted transfer student and develops a crush, unaware they're both keeping secrets from the other. wc: 2.2k a/n: no warnings, mostly just fluff and a few swear words. reader is afab but I personally written them as being gender fluid. I also headcanon Matakara as bi disaster. Enjoy!

You yawn, barely paying attention as your teacher goes on about something to do with…history? English? Biology? At this point you don’t bother keeping track; no one else does. Usually everyone in your homeroom is openly hooting and hollering over the lecture; on good days, most of the other students are zoned out or passing notes, not even attempting to be sneaky about it.

Speaking of, a folded up card gets flicked on your desk; you look, puzzled at it, and back to your seatmate. On your right is Matakara Asamine, smiling patiently and pointing to the paper.

You roll your eyes but smile back; he has your number, the two of you could easily have a whole conversation over text if you wished to. Still, you open the little piece of paper and read what Matakara scribbled: he’s asking if you want to see a movie after school. You stifle a chuckle and write back an affirmative, deliberately sliding your hand over the surface of his desk; after he reads your answer, Matakara pumps his fist silently in a display of excitement. Your profile is obscured with your hood up and your head turned, so you hope he doesn’t see how wide you’re grinning. 

It’s only been a few months since you transferred to Ichizu and you’re grateful to have made a few decent friends; with the district's reputation, you hadn’t expected to do much in the way of socializing. You weren't particularly street smart or experienced in self defense even: you were one of the few students who fell into the “harmless wallflower” category. There were a handful of kids at school who were like you; they just sort of walked around, didn’t speak much, and were largely ignored by the majority of the school populace as too weak and plain to bother with. 

The Minato Kai and Siguma members mostly kept to themselves, interested in their own rivalry and their own personal circles of friends and acquaintances. Normies like you were mildly entertaining to mess with, and while you did get some teasing and the occasional shove in the hallway, you had sufficiently flown under the radar.

At least, until Matakara Asamine decided he wanted to make you his friend. From the beginning you were surprised, but not especially wary. The general opinion of Matakara was that he was strong and had integrity, two traits that Minato Kai prized; his revered older brother would surely be proud, who you had also heard good things about. With all that in mind, you didn’t hesitate too much when Matakara and his friends asked you to sit with them to eat or tag along to the batting cages. Frankly, you let everyone else do most of the talking; it was fun though. You genuinely enjoyed the company and Matakara shot down any attempts to get you to pledge with their gang. 

“What are we going to see later?” You ask as you take a seat next to Zabu, handing him the manga he had lent you a week prior. “Sorry it took so long, I lost it in the pile.”

“Eh, you can keep that if you want.” Zabu scrunches his nose at the volume, sliding it back towards you. “I’m not into that sappy shit.”

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why’d ya buy it?”

“I heard it was supposed to be good, but it was cliche as hell.” Zabu shrugs, jabbing his elbow into Sakegaki’s side; said boy had been reaching his chopsticks into Zabu’s bento to nab a piece of grilled meat. “What movie? Are we going to see a movie?”

“Um-”

“Hey guys!” 

Matakara almost startles you with how loudly his voice booms; he plops down onto the bench next to you. “Sorry, the bread line was crazy today.”

“Figures, it’s half off day. What’d you get?” Zabu asks curiously.

“Yakisoba, here,” Matakara takes one of the sealed baggies of treats and puts one on top of your plate. “I owe you for last time, your favorite is the melon bread, right?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to.” You add. “Thanks though.”

“No problem.”

Lunch period comes and goes and you completely forget to ask what movie the four of you are going to see, but it doesn’t bug you much. You don’t really mind if it means you get to sit by Matakara again; the last time you went to the movies with him he had shared a bucket of popcorn with you, whispering into your ear every now and again to comment on something. You spend the rest of the day hoping you’ll be able to sit next to him again, maybe have one of those moments where your hands touch by accident. Zabu doesn’t know what he’s talking about in your humble opinion: if it was up to you, your school life would be one big, romantic comedy cliche, and Matakara would be the male lead.

Except, as things are now with you passing for a boy, you’re pretty sure your role as of now is the quiet friend, the awkward loner adopted by the popular kid. Not a bad deal all things considered, but it makes having a crush something of a pain in the ass. Still, you’ll take some yearning on your end if it means you can continue going through your school days mostly unnoticed and unbothered. The fact of the matter is presenting as a girl is a hassle; even the toughest girls in your class have to deal with being pursued and bugged by obnoxious wannabe casanovas who think they’re the earth’s gift to women. 

So far, you haven’t had any risky encounters: the gender neutral bathroom, dirty and falling apart like everything else in the school, helps avoid your secret getting out and you skip changing for gym because…well, pretty much everyone else does anyway and the teachers don’t care. You can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t keep passing as a boy until graduation; not to mention, the boy’s uniforms are comfier. 

“Where’s the guys?” 

It’s the late afternoon and you’re changed into baggy sweats and battered sneakers; inside your jacket are four packages of candy picked up from the convenience store you’re presently loitering outside of to sneak into the theater. Matakara is late; you’re about to text him when you hear his voice calling out to you. Down the sidewalk, Matakara is running your way, smiling wide and out of uniform; as he reaches you, your eyes widen.

“What the hell? You’re bleeding man.” You step up to him, craning your neck to get a good look at the cut over his eyebrow. “What the hell happened?”

“Ah, one of Siguma’s guys challenged me on my way here.” Matakara raises his fingers to the small gash. “Oh wow, I didn’t realize his kick landed that hard.”

“Matakara, hold on a second.”

“Where are you-?”

You rush into the store; in three minutes you’ve returned with a box of bandages, a small bag of cotton swabs, disinfecting ointment, hand sanitizer, and a bottle of water.

“What’s the water for?”

“Flush out the wound. Some of the blood’s drying.” 

You make Matakare sit down on the wooden bench on the side of the building and lay out the supplies. He watches you silently as you pour some of the clean water onto a swab and begin to carefully wipe off the dried blood, soaking up the bit that’s still oozing. Matakara is obediently still and doesn’t wince as you swipe a few dabs of ointment over the injury after sanitizing your hands properly. 

“You do this a lot?”

“Nope.” You confess, handing him the bottle of water. “Here, have some. It’s always a good idea to drink water. I’m gonna put the bandaid on; can’t believe you didn’t realize you got hit so hard.”

“I was kinda in a rush.” Matakara’s hand dwarfs the plastic bottle; he’s looking down a bit guiltily. “Sorry I was late. I thought it’d be over quicker.”

“Well, the guys are late anyway, so it works out.” You gently smooth the bandage across his eyebrow. “There, it should be fine. Are you sure you don’t feel dizzy or anything? Maybe we should skip the movie.”

“No!” Matakara says, sitting up straight. “I’m totally fine, seriously. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“I should be the one saying that.” You sit next to him with a sigh. “Don’t apologize; I’m lucky you want to hang out with me at all.”

“Of course I do! You’re fun to be around and you’re a good listener and you’re really-” 

Matakara stops talking; he suddenly looks away and takes a sip of water. You stare at him, a bit flattered and a lot confused. Matakara's been acting a little off all day come to think of it.

“Should I text the guys? You told them where we were gonna meet, right?” You check your phone while Matakara finishes the water. “Think they went straight to the theater?”

“Um, actually, Sakegaki and Zabu aren’t coming.” Matakara tells you; he scrunches up the bottle and tosses it cleanly into the recycling bin next to him. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Oh. No, it’s cool.” You’re not lying but now your curiosity has peaked. “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yeah, nothing wrong.” Matakara says quickly. “If you want I can call them, if you’re not comfortable with it being just us.”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Because…” 

Matakara’s hands are clasped and he’s still looking at the ground; he looks troubled and you feel bad for pushing the issue, whatever it is, but something is definitely wrong. 

“I don’t mean to presume.” Matakara begins slowly, measuring his tone. “It’s none of my business, but I, um, when you got close to me, I kinda felt…your chest.”

You stare at him blankly; Matakara’s cheeks flush and he finally gives you a ‘look’. 

“Oh.” You blink. “Shit. I guess you found me out.”

“So, you were born a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you…?” Matakara averts his stare. “Wait, sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“No, you’re fine. The thing is, it’s just kind of easier to pass myself off as a guy, ya know?” You pat his shoulder. “So, would you mind keeping it between us? Honestly, I don’t really care if people see me as a guy, girl, whatever, but it would make my life easier if you didn't go telling anyone else.”

“A secret?” Matakara perks up. “Between us?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure!”

You’re a bit taken aback; you know Matakara’s a nice guy and all, but you didn’t expect him to be this easy going about your charade.

“You can trust me.” Matakara puts a hand over his heart. “I can swear it in blood.”

“No, no more bleeding!” You blanch at the thought. “Dude, it’s not that deep.”

“I know, but it’s just nice.” Matakara rubs the back of his neck; he’s beaming at you, eyes crinkling in the corners, cheeks flushed. “You know, we’re always around other people or you go off on your own; when we are together, you don’t say much…I feel like we haven’t actually gotten a chance to really know each other, so I like we have this thing that’s only for us. Does that sound weird?”

“A little, but I see what you mean.” You tug the strings of your hoodie so it closes more around your face. “If you want, we could do this more.”

“This?”

“Hanging out,” You clarify, voice softer than you mean for it to be. “Just the two of us. If you want.”

“Then, it’s okay I didn’t invite the others? You’re not uncomfortable with it?”

“I probably feel the most comfortable around you, Matakara.”

You chance peeking out and realize you’re screwed: Matakara is leaning over, right in your face, eyes glued to your face and almost shining. He radiates warmth, like he’s trying to make you gravitate closer to his side, unknowingly pulling you toward him.

"Really?"

Actually, it’s more like his hand is placed over yours and he’s moving his face close to yours; for a moment you and Matakara stare at each other mutely. His hand covers yours and you don’t feel uncomfortable but your heart might actually combust inside your ribcage from how tenderly Matakara is gazing at you. 

“Do you really mean it?” Matakara breathes, voice almost like a sigh. “Can we go to the movies now? Just you and me?”

“Uh huh.” You nod dumbly, swallowing the spit you didn’t realize was pooling from glancing at his lips. “I, um, bought candy for everyone, four of them.”

“More for us.” Matakara smiles brightly, standing up; he’s yet to let go of your hand. 

“Works for me.” You don’t try to pull your hand away, allowing Matakara to pretty much lead you down the sidewalk in the direction of the theater. You’ve never seen him act almost childishly eager and his attitude is admittedly infectious. “Let’s share a popcorn bucket, it'll be less expensive.”

“Yeah, we should split a drink too.”

Matakara looks back, and you can’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes as your cheeks grow hot.

“…I’m gonna have to watch out for you.”

“I don’t mind. In fact,” Matakara is grinning a little too innocently for the look he’s giving you over his shoulder. “You can look at me all you want.”

You know, getting the info last episode that "Siguma" is a mish mash of "single minded", it's interesting how Arajin is kind of stuck on the fence between Siguma and Minato Kai's ideologies.

Like, yeah, he is incredibly single minded when it comes to losing virginity/romance and is generally only invested in his own wants and how things are affecting him directly. He is self serving and throws away what logic and reason he has when it comes to what he wants. Arajin’s goals can hardly be called chaotic and rebellious in the way Siguma members behave, the things he wants are very run of the mill, but he’s saying screw everything else, I'm getting what I want.

But on the flip side, in keeping with Minato Kai values, Arajin has a past of wishing to pursue strength for the sake of it, is deeply ashamed of his failure to stand up for Matakara in the past (showing he does see value in things like friendship and loyalty otherwise he just wouldn't give af) and he does have a moral compass presently no matter how much he wants to ignore it for his own self preservation.

One example I think of is the way he reacted to Shindo threatening Mahoro: I think the narrative is meant to portray this as not just him feeling possessive over his crush or similarly selfish motivations. Arajin is disgusted at the idea of Shindo violating her and treating her so disrespectfully. Even though he's been super oblivious to Mahoro's disdain, (her acting sweet to manipulate him aside) he hasn't tried to pressure her into doing anything or acts like he's entitled to her. But also, it was pretty short sighted and insane of Arajin to attack this person who is (at least initially) very clearly out of his league and without calling on Senya's powers to help him.

Just an interesting thing I noticed about Arajin’s character and how his personality has traits of the kind of person both of Ichizu's gangs want in their ranks.

Tunnel Vision

Summary: Iketeru is grateful to have you on staff to help him stay grounded, but what is he supposed to do when you're the one making his head spin? 3.7k words

A/N: Art is official from Gaku Kuze; Iketeru Daga/F!Reader who works on the set of Together with Maman as...let's say emotional support human? I didn't think that far ahead, the point is it's fluffy and tooth rotting sweetness. Enjoy!

Off camera, Iketeru is probably the closest to his oniisan persona: pleasant and approaching life with a more positive outlook than his co stars. Even though Iketeru spends a good chunk of time in his own little bubble, he’s not the type to hold grudges or be resentful; he’s too easy going and short sighted for drama.

So where’s the issue? Well, as much as you had an initial impression of Iketeru walking through life unaware and unhindered by the cynicism that grows from adulthood, he still holds himself to a rigid standard, like many people his age. You don’t know if it’s his strict upbringing or a childlike desire to please others when Iketeru is called on to perform a task, but if he falls short, he will not let it go.

Spiraling is the best way you can define it: if Iketeru is unable to accomplish something, he will press on, forcing himself to try over and over. The strain and stress makes him mess up or worse, Iketeru shuts down altogether, immobilized and on the brink of a panic attack.

“Let’s break.” You ignore Derekida’s protests at the nerve of you interrupting the shoot (he’s the director here) but you usher Iketeru backstage into a fold out chair with promises to make it quick.

“Breathe.” 

“But I have to-” 

“Not right now. Right now, you just need to breathe, okay?”

Iketeru calms down but he’s still staring at his hands; he looks like a puppy that’s been scolded for peeing on the carpet. “It’s all wrong.”

“You did one thing wrong.” You hand him a water bottle and step back so he doesn’t feel crowded. “What do we do when we have a problem we don’t know how to fix?” 

“....huh?” 

“I’ll help you: we take a step…?” 

“Into the river?” 

“What? No, what the hell-? Look, we take a step back, calm down, and ask for help. We learned that yesterday, remember?” 

“No.” 

“Here’s your reminder; now have some water, a sip won’t hurt.”

Iketeru drinks slowly; there’s color in his face again, but he still looks and feels a bit uneasy. You glance over your shoulder: a few of the kids are looking concerned, but Utano and Uramichi are leading them in the arts and crafts segment. You suppose Iketeru’s experience in the arts is more centered with performing, but once he’s shown how to do something, he catches on fast. And yet, here you are, another mini crisis to tend to.

The embarrassment he feels at having you see him in such a state is lessened by the need to be pulled out of his own head; it is strange though. When someone like Kumatani or one of the other staff are called upon to similarly aid him, Iketeru isn’t as concerned of how he must come off; he’s mainly worried to be a bother. There’s not a lingering sense of shame that makes Iketeru tongue tied and hyper aware of everything he does, like he’s auditioning on a stage and you’re in charge of critiquing his performance. 

“Sorry.” Iketeru wipes a drop of water from the corner of his mouth. “I’m slowing down the schedule…I’m letting everyone down.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up so much. Think about it this way, how would you react if one of those little munchkins was struggling? Would you tell them what a disappointment they were?”

“No.” Iketeru concedes. “I’d probably…I guess try to help them figure it out.” 

“Why?” 

“What? I wouldn’t want to make them feel bad, of course.” 

“There you go. Next time you’re having a little trouble, be kinder to yourself. Don’t worry about the others, they know you’re doing your best. You’re one of the most talented people I’ve met period: you’re not any less impressive because you’re having some trouble with your, uh, role.”

Iketeru nods and offers a small smile; of course you wouldn’t look at him in a poor light because of this. He knows you’re right but it’s not as easy to be so level headed when he’s in the moment. Yet you seem to have an endless wealth of patience; your words always manage to ground him back to reality. When you’re next to him, speaking to him so warmly and empathetic, Iketeru hangs on your every word.  Even when Iketeru’s mind drifts, he ends up thinking about you in an unrelated way to the topic of conversation: how pleasant your voice is, how close you are, your eyes-

“Iketeru-oniisan? Are you ready?” 

“Huh?” 

“Heh, looks like you’re feeling better, space cadet.” You smile wider. “I asked, are you ready to go out there and try again?” 

“Um, yes! I can do it.” 

“Alrighty, I’ll recycle this for you.” You hold up the now empty water bottle with a sly grin. “I’m just gonna take this and slide it through the hole.”

You thought Iketeru would get a chuckle out of that, but he’s not smiling at all anymore; was that one not blatant enough? Maybe the delivery was off. Derekida is already shouting for you to hurry up and not delay the schedule any further.  

“Oh sure, but when he’s brainstorming, he can hold everyone up for an hour or two; duty calls.” You shake your head and give Iketeru a quick thumbs up. “You got this!”

Iketeru nods and waves, stiff and mechanically; he wants more water now. His cheeks are hot, despite how long he’s been sitting away from the harsh stage lights. Don’t get him wrong, that joke was hilarious, but lately your inappropriate quips make Iketeru think about things he knows he shouldn’t be thinking. 

Kumatani leads him back to the children, using his Kumao-kun voice to say cheery words of encouragement, though Iketeru’s only half listening. Not good: it’s time to get back into the role. Iketeru smiles as the children welcome him back and show him their progress on their projects. Iketeru really does feel much better but still off somehow; the ball of nerves squirming in his stomach has been replaced by a knot in his chest. Is he sick? Maybe he needs to take a cough drop or have some hot tea after work. Iketeru hopes he isn’t coming down with something: he wouldn’t want to make you worry.

“Worry? I mean, I guess she would be? I hope so…wait, no. But I don’t want her to worry.” Iketeru glances to where you’re chatting backstage with Ikuko; a yawn escapes you, but you don’t look too exhausted and you give a sweet smile in response to whatever Ikuko is speaking of. 

“Iketeru-oniisan?” 

“Huh? Oh sorry, that looks very pretty; good job!” Iketeru smiles kindly as the young girl holds out her tissue paper bouquet of tulips; she mixed the papers somehow so they look multicolored. “I can practically smell them.” 

“I’m going to give them to my mommy to say thank you for being my mommy.” 

“What a thoughtful gift, I’m sure she’ll love them!” 

It doesn’t take long for Utano to show Iketeru how to bunch the papers together to make a nice pattern and to shape the chenille stems to secure the “petals” in place. You’re leaving for the day and see Iketeru finishing up a bouquet of what looks like red poppies; he’s laser focused on the project, hunched slightly over the table in his green room. His door is open and he looks ready to leave, save for the clutter overtaking some of the table’s surface. 

“I knew you could do it.” You knock lightly on the door as a courtesy before strolling over, grinning as you watch him carefully tie the flowers together with a ribbon. “Wow, that’s really good. Like, you could sell these.”

“Huh?” Iketeru looks up at you. “Sorry I wasn’t listening, I’m making flowers.”

“Anyway, how are you feeling? You should head home, you’ve done enough for today.” 

“I couldn’t, I had to finish this and you were still working.” Iketeru regards his handiwork with a content smile. “There, all done.”

“Wait, are they for me?”

“Sure are.”

“They’re really nice, but are you sure you don’t want to save them as a prop or something?” 

“I can make more later if we need them; these I made just for you.”

Iketeru turns in his seat and holds up the tissue paper poppies up with an absolutely angelic smile on his face; you take the little bouquet gingerly, careful not to bend or tear anything. 

“I made these to thank you.” Iketeru stands up, taking a minute to put everything away into a container he borrowed from the arts supplies closet. “I know it’s not much, but I was able to make them because you helped me.” 

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“Sure you did.” Iketeru’s smile grows sheepish. “I know it’s part of the job, but I hope you’ll accept these as a token of my appreciation. I wouldn’t have made it through the last few hours if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Aw, I just got there first.” You grin bashfully, beyond flattered at this gesture. “Thank you, Iketeru: I’ve never gotten flowers as a gift before and these ones will last me a long time!”

Iketeru smiles vaguely as you continue to speak, still admiring the poppies; he’s a tiny bit surprised to hear no one’s ever given you flowers before, fake or otherwise. You’re one of the best people he knows; surely someone like you gets bushels of flowers for all the holidays and special occasions, maybe even for no real reason at all. Iketeru can see you clear as day in his head receiving dozens of daisies, stems of cherry blossoms, strings of sweet peas and sprigs of lavender adorning your hair and clothes until you’re covered in bright colors and fragrant florets, a mountain of tokens from imagined people moved by how grateful they are to have you in their lives. At the center of that mountain of flowers is you, putting all of those beautiful blooms to shame; you smile at him and take the offerings of artificial poppies and homemade onigiri, cradling them protectively to your heart. Iketeru stares at you with helpless admiration, unsure what to do other than allow himself to melt into a puddle as you lean in to press the softest of kisses to his cheek-

“Iketeru?”

“I wasn’t listening!”

“You didn’t even try to make up something.”

Iketeru coughs. “Sorry.”

“Ah well, I figured.” You tuck the tissue paper poppies into your front pocket. “The inside of your head must be an interesting place.”

“Sorry.” Iketeru repeats. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you. You must think I’m rude.”

“Come on, I know you’re not like that.” You assure him. “And hey, I like to ramble anyway, so I guess it all works out. No harm, no foul.”

“If you say so.” Iketeru glances at the ground. “Actually, what I was thinking…can I bring you flowers again?” 

“You don’t have to do that!” You sputter, holding the artificial blooms to your chest. “You didn’t even have to give me these.”

“I wanted to.” Iketeru assures you. “I wasn’t planning to give them to you initially, but I kept picturing your face when I was practicing. It just seemed right for you to have them.”

“Okay then.” You chuckle. “Careful, you’re gonna make me think you’re sweet on me at this rate.”

“What’s that mean? I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

“It’s a way to say you like someone in a romantic sense.”

“I see, thank you for explaining.”

“No problem.”

“I really like how that sounds.”

Iketeru notices you’ve gotten quiet; the space between him and you is very small, the two of you are nearly bumping shoulders as you walk side by side out of the building. Iketeru rarely gets the chance to be with you one on one, but when the occasion arises, you do most of the talking. 

He wasn’t too sure, but Iketeru recognizes the way he thinks of you has long since changed from innocent admiration to affection. Even so, he hadn’t been preoccupied with trying to pursue something beyond being friendly coworkers. Iketeru couldn’t have guessed how much his attachment would cement into, but it’s impossible to deny there’s a difference with how he regards you and other people he cares for.

Whenever you walk into the room, Iketeru feels a sudden rush, not even realizing he had been anticipating your arrival to the studio. You speak firmly, but are never mean or insincere. Even in the midst of Iketeru’s crisis, seeing you make a beeline towards him made the dreadful, heavy weight on his chest abate enough so he could breathe a little easier. 

Has the thought never crossed your mind, at least once? Your face betrays nothing as you make your way to the station, Iketeru moving so you walk on the side of the sidewalk that isn’t by the street or the bike lane, even when he’s lost in thought; it’s like an automatic instinct at this point. 

“Iketeru, do you live this way?” Your voice changes tone from mild to concerned. “I’m actually going to a cafe by my place.”

“A cafe?” Iketeru perks up; cafes have cozy insides with places for people to sit for a while and share good treats and conversation.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head home after treating myself to a little something, so you don’t need to escort me home.” You say lightly. “It’s not very far, maybe five minutes. I didn’t know you lived in the area.”

“I don’t live around here.”

Your expression changes to slight shock. “What? Iketeru, didn’t you realize where I was headed? Oh man, how far out are you from your place? We’ve been walking for fifteen minutes.”

“That’s right, I was going to call my sister to pick me up.” Iketeru remembers; they were supposed to run a couple errands when he was done at work. “I’ll text her that I’m going to get a taxi home, she doesn’t really need me to help with grocery shopping.”

“Why don’t you have her pick you up now? We’re not that far from the studio, send her your location.”

“Yes, I guess that would be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

Iketeru types out a message to let Mabui know where he is and apologizes for losing track of the time. It’s a good thing he’s a decent actor because otherwise Iketeru doesn’t know how he would keep the disappointment off his face. It sounds like you want him to leave. When you brought up going to a cafe, Iketeru’s first thought was that you were going to extend an invitation for him to join you, but maybe he was still daydreaming. 

“Something felt different about today.”

chest hurts as you watch him impassively type on his phone, explaining where he was and why his reply is so late.

“Is this being sweet on somebody? I’m pretty sure that’s how I feel. All I know for sure is that I would be so happy if she felt that way about me. Even if she didn’t, I still want to go with her. I want to see her more. I’m a coward. I can’t even ask her to have coffee.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m sure Mabui won’t be too upset, it’s better than if she sent me out on my own and I forgot the grocery list or something.” Iketeru can’t stop talking, saying anything to gloss over this awkward moment. He's spent enough time acting like a fool. “We’re running low on some things; I’ll probably get stuck on cooking duty for dinner tonight since I forgot all about it, haha. We usually split chores, but sometimes it’s easier to buy stuff when we both use similar things. I do like to cook though, I found this new recipe for onigiri filling, I should pack some for lunch tomorrow and-”

“Whoa, whoa.” You put a hand lightly on Iketeru’s shoulder. “You don’t sound okay.”

Iketeru tenses up; your hand shocks him through the layers of his jacket and sweater and undershirt, right to his skin. Your expression is measured, gaze steady but gentle; you’re off the clock and he’s still making you do work. 

“My apologies. I’m fine, maybe a bit tired, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry.” You withdraw your hand. “I didn’t mean to keep you, it was nice of you to walk me out.”

“No, don’t be sorry, it was my pleasure. You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Iketeru manages a smile to mask the shame he feels at his own behavior; you shouldn't have to humor him like this. You're a nice, thoughtful coworker and friend. 

“Do you want me to stay until your sister comes?”

Iketeru has to force down the burst of giddy joy from your kind offer. “There's no need. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, it’s nothing super bad or serious, just…it’s hard.”

“Hard, huh?” You nudge his shoulder. “Sorry, couldn’t resist that one.”

Iketeru chuckles; you really are too good to him. Despite almost ruining your plans to relax, you’re trying to cheer him up. Iketeru supposes it’s time to be an adult and focus.

“You go on, Mabui will be here soon.” Iketeru feels a buzzing in his pocket and the chimes of a bell; he takes out his phone. “Ah, she’s calling me now.”

“I’ll leave you to it then; have a goodnight Iketeru, let me know how the onigiri turns out!”

“I will.” Iketeru waves as you turn on your heel and continue walking down the sidewalk. “Goodnight…”

With a sigh, Iketeru accepts the call, hoping he sounds better than he feels.

“Hey, sorry sis, I didn’t mean to-”

“Is she still there with you?” Mabui’s calm voice asks. “Put her on the phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to say hello and thank her for looking out for my little brother.”

“Uh, well, hold on.”

Iketeru looks up; you’re only a few paces away. In a few seconds, he’s caught up to you, phone in hand. Any trace of guilt Iketeru has wavers when you turn around to look at him.

“Iketeru? What’s going on?”

“Sorry, it’s my sister.” Iketeru says, still a bit confused. “She wanted to say hello and thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

“Oh!” You look pleasantly surprised. “How nice; here, put her on speaker.” Iketeru does just that, holding the cell phone between you and him so you can both hear Mabui clearly. 

“Hello, Mabui-san, I'm ”

“Sorry to butt in, but Iketeru wants to ask you on a date. Normally I wouldn’t pry into his personal life, but he’s been getting worse with remembering basic things and being distracted over this, so would you mind giving him an answer?” Mabui’s asks as if she was requesting you tell her the time of day. “It would make things a lot easier on me.”

“Mabui!” Iketeru would say he’s panicking but he’s far past such a mild reaction; his insides have frozen solid. He might choke on nothing but his sister continues to address you like he's not there hearing every incriminating word. 

“Iketeru probably wants to go to that cafe with you, so how about there for a first date?”

“DON’T LISTEN TO HER SHE’S LYING SHE’S A MAD WOMAN!” 

“No, I’m helping.”

Iketeru yanks the phone away. “Sis, how could you?!”

“Well, I’m going to the store now. See you later.”

Iketeru stares blankly at the black screen. The call is over. 

No, his life is over. He can’t even look at you. 

“Did you want to go to the cafe with me?”

“I’m sorry.” Iketeru croaks. “I’m really sorry, please, forget the last five minutes, I’m so sor-”

“Iketeru, breathe.” You take his hand gently. “Just breathe. Everything’s okay. I’m here and I’m not upset.”

Iketeru does as he’s told, slowly inhaling and exhaling; your hand squeezes his palm just enough so he feels steady. You’re smiling; you’re holding his hand. 

“Um, so, we shouldn’t stop and talk in the middle of the sidewalk.” You glance around. “I think you scared someone and we should probably go before they call the cops. Besides, you look like you could use a hot cup of tea, huh?”

“Do you mean it?” Iketeru leans in slightly. “You want me to go with you?”

Your gaze falters from his face to over his shoulder and your lips are pursed together slightly. Iketeru forces himself to be in the moment; the circumstances aren’t ideal, but now that he’s been put on the spot, Iketeru has to see this through. If you reject him, he won’t argue or be offended. Iketeru can wait until he’s alone somewhere before he allows his heart to crumble. 

“Please. Please like me too, please-”

“It doesn’t have to be a date.”

Iketeru isn’t able to speak; he just nods like a puppet on a string but then you continue to speak.

“I always pictured dressing up a little for a first date.” You confess, chuckling self deprecatingly. “Maybe we can plan it out together? We can do something casual of course, but I wanted to look cuter for you.”

“I,” Iketeru blinks rapidly and gathers himself so he can speak clearly. “I want that too. I want to take you anywhere you want to go…and bring you flowers.”

“I’d like that.” You stand a bit awkwardly, smiling like a fool. “I like you a lot, you know.”

“Me too.” Iketeru smiles; he doesn’t feel nervous anymore. You made him feel so safe. “I can’t wait to bring you your first real bouquet.”

“I’m looking forward to it; but still, I like these poppies. I’m going to save them; all this time, I thought it was just me. I never want to forget today, so I’m glad these flowers can’t wither away.” You sigh happily and lean into Iketeru’s shoulder slightly. “It’s a gift from you after all: they’re special, ya know?”

“Hm?” Iketeru smiles at you, as if just realizing you were on his arm. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I’ll tell you some other time.” 

This was fucking badass. Brother complex still weird but damn.

i just think she's neat <3

Bizarre Love Triangle

Kumatani Mitsuo/f!Reader/Usahara Tobikichi in a love triangle; since Usahara has more experience with dating he knows what's up but Kumatani is currently still in the dark about his own feelings. No real resolutions, just fluff and some angst and a My Best Friend's Wedding reference for funsies. Summary: For once Kumatani is the one oblivious and Usahara is all too aware of the dynamic that's developed between the three of you. Pining!Usahara, Obliviously Crushing!Kumatani, and Oblivious!Reader; let the needless drama begin! word count: 3.4k Playlist: I listened to a lot of Hot Freaks writing this and they deserve more attention (I also played Bizarre Love Triangle cover by Stabbing Westward on loop, hence the title :D ) Puppy Princess Write Me Letters Heartache I Want to Be Your Boyfriend End of the Night I Want You to Be My Daddy

Usahara sits to your left as Kumatani takes the seat to your right without really thinking about it. He’s noticed lately that keeps happening; when Kumatani and him started getting you to come out with them, you were still unfamiliar and it was natural for the two men to sit next to each other. 

In a restaurant, a bar, the movies, or even just going over to one another’s places for food and conversation, Usahara gravitated to sitting next to his friend and vice versa. He isn’t able to recall when Kumatani started occupying the space next to you. Kumatani doesn’t make a big show of it, but Usahara has noticed, every single time. Ironic, considering how people categorize him as the oblivious one, and they had a point, but this is different.

Kumatani’s never even been on a date; obligatory mixers and being pressured into joining “not date” group events don’t count. As long as Usahara has known him, Kumatani’s been single and not ready to mingle. 

“Careful.” Kumatani moves the pitcher of ice water out of your way as you reach for the sugar packets. “You’ll spill.”

“I saw it.” You roll your eyes with good humor, ripping open the packet with your teeth. “I’m not as clumsy as some people when I drink.”

“Who are you referring to, huh?” Usahara grabs the bowl of sugar packets away from your side of the table. “I resent that.”

“Yet you somehow knew she was talking about you.” Kumatani sips his water before pouring himself a cup of strong black coffee without any to add. 

“Oh, don’t you want some cream?” You were just about to hand him the smaller pitcher next to the coffee pot. “I thought you didn’t like plain black coffee.”

“Not usually.”

The three of you had come from a bar a few minutes away, varying levels of buzzed and starving, having not realized the bar didn’t have much in the way of food before stopping in to drink the stress of the day away. Usahara remembered this diner was nearby enough to walk to and open late just for these occasions. He guesses a good amount of business came from drunk people out and about with limited options. 

You had chosen a booth and the seat near the window; Kumatani had sat himself down next to you, leaving Usahara, once again, the odd man out. 

“You guys suck. Always ganging up on me.” Usahara still feels pretty drunk; he’s not known for holding his liquor but even he recognizes tonight was too much. “I feel bad enough. Can you pass me the coffee?”

“I told you to pace yourself.” You sigh, but can’t help smile at his lopsided grin. “You’re so goofy; here, let me pour you a cup. If anyone’s going to spill something, it’s you…”

“Thanks.” Usahara grins wider as you take his mug, pour in a generous helping of hot coffee and stir in three sugars and a splash of cream without needing prompting. “You’re the best; you’d make a great wife.”

“I don’t know if being able to pour coffee translates to being wife material.” You laugh, snorting a little. “I didn’t even make it.”

“It’s more like something you’d do as an unpaid intern.” Kumatani remarks cynically, shooting Usahara a stern look. “I’d say be careful burning your tongue, but it might actually be an improvement.”

“Ugh, next time I’m only going out with her.” Usahara gratefully takes the mug from your hand, fingertips barely brushing against yours; the steam heats up his face and he blows over the coffee to cool it down some. “What should we do for food? I’m still kinda queasy.”

“Hm, they have a sample platter option.” You’re glancing over the menu, lips pressed together as you read the list. “I’m not super hungry though; Kumatani, if I get this do you want to share with me?”

“Sure.”

Usahara brings the mug back to his lips, wondering what his expression must be; Kumatani has scooted closer to your end of the bench, ostensibly to get a closer look at the platter you’re referring to, except he has his own menu, untouched and closed by his cup of coffee. You point out something and look over briefly with a smile in his direction, somehow missing the way Kumatani edges over until his shoulder all but touches yours. He’s glancing from the menu to your face, his own expression as blank as ever; Usahara might have believed everything was exactly the same as it had been last year. That was when you started working on the set as a script doctor after Amon had a particularly harrowing mental breakdown over ideas of the newest season. You actually worked more with Derekida and Furode directly, but had naturally gravitated to the cast members; you appreciated their input without demanding they do your job for you. 

Usahara had thought you were cute before you spoke a word; he was beyond excited to have you join him and the other staff on work trips and after hours social hour. It was way more fun to chat with a cutie pie who laughed at his jokes, so when things progressed to a friendship outside of the job, Usahara didn’t have any complaints.

The three of you have a good thing going on. You’re both Usahara and Kumatani’s friend. Sometimes you go with Usahara to karaoke or leisurely rides on his motorcycle around the expanse of the oceanside roads and other days you go with Kumatani to watch a cheesy B movie or browse pet stores for cat treats. You’ve helped Usahara’s parents move a couch and treated Kumatani’s brother to snacks. 

Usahara is almost completely certain Kumatani has no idea. He doesn’t seem to be cognizant of the way he instinctively goes to make sure you’re okay, almost tending to you, even though you don’t need it. Pulling you away from the traffic side of the walkway, asking if you got enough sleep when you’re yawning a lot, always offering unprompted advice and a sympathetic ear. If you were someone more like Hachita or even Iketeru, Usahara would understand the perpetual need to oversee you, like a magnetic pull. That’s just the type of person Kumatani is. 

“You should have ordered the honey lemon tea.” You’re nudging Kumatani’s arm with your elbow. “Get it?”

“Uh huh.”

“Cause bears.”

“Yep.”

“Bears? Honey?” You smile at Usahara conspiratorially. “You get it, right?”

“I got it.” Usahara doesn’t want to laugh, but he can’t help it; you’re in a silly mood and it’s adorable. He’s not laughing at you; there’s a bubbling, tingling in his chest. It’s too much, he has to do something about it, and his gut says to laugh. “What should I order?”

“Carrot cake.”

Usahara doubles over and now you’re in hysterics too, giggling like a madwoman; you’re still buzzed and off balance, so you teeter to the side. As you place your hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound, your head rests lightly against Kumatani’s shoulder. The pleasant sensation in Usahara’s chest squeezes his heart painfully at the way Kumatani goes utterly still as you bury your face into his shoulder when you can’t force the giggles to stop. Usahara may as well cease to exist in this shared space; nothing else is visible in Kumatani’s field of vision. His jaw goes slack, his shoulders slump, and his eyes lose any trace of weary skepticism. 

“You’re drunk.” Kumatani’s voice is strangely hushed; gently props you up and only looks away so he can top off your glass of water. “Go on, have some more water.”

“I will, thank you.” You wipe your eyes and obediently take the glass from Kumatani. “I’m not that drunk though.”

“You’re gonna have a nasty hangover and I’m the one who’s going to have to bring you breakfast because you’re too incapacitated to go grocery shopping.”

“I’ll do it.”

Both you and Kumatani look up suddenly in Usahara’s direction; it takes a second for him to realize how loudly he had spoken.

“We’ll both be dealing with some gnarly hangovers, so let’s grab a late breakfast together.” Usahara continues, undeterred by the embarrassment creeping up on him. “You wanted to try that crepe place, yeah?”

“Oh my gosh yes!” You say excitedly, practically shooting up on your seat. “Let’s do that! Whoever wakes up last pays!”

“Aw, no fair, you know I’m a heavy sleeper-”

“How would she know that?”

It’s Usahara’s turn to look taken aback: Kumatani isn’t giving him a death glare per say, but the look in his eyes has gone from soft and mushy to cold steel. 

“This lightweight crashed at my place last week; I almost broke my back dragging him out of the road.” You explain casually as you fold your menu and place it on top of the table. “Does everyone know what they want?”

“Good question.” Usahara mumbles.

“We’re splitting the sample platter.” Kumatani puts his menu and yours together. “What about you?”

“Carrot cake.” Usahara winks at you, twitching his nose like a rabbit might. 

You return his smile somewhat exasperated. “Be serious: you should eat something too. How about a sandwich? Or soup?”

“Soup is good.” 

Usahara doubts he can handle anything heavier right now; his stomach is churning. Why do you have to be so sweet and funny and smart and perfect? And why did Kumatani have to be so dense? Usahara almost wants to clue him in, just so he can get this over with and you can put them both out of their misery. 

But, what if you pick one of them? What if they both confess and you decide to choose one and the other person is left to be the third wheel? It’s possible that time will overtake both his and Kumatani’s silly, stupid crushes.

Except, this isn’t a crush anymore. Usahara might even be falling in love with you, the same woman one of his best friends is unknowingly, hopelessly fawning over. Staring at you, Kumatani looks more drunk than he has all night. It’s a shame: if Usahara wasn’t so terrified of Kumatani becoming self aware, he would be teasing him relentlessly. 

By the time the late, late dinner is over, Usahara doesn’t feel much better; he spent an hour, sitting all by himself on the other end of the table, essentially forced to watch Kumatani fuss and you, drunkenly, foolishly, humoring him as Kumatani did everything short of hand feeding you. At one point a bit of sauce had smeared near the corner of your mouth; Usahara didn’t know how he managed to stop himself from sweeping all the plates to the floor and vaulting over the table when Kumatani took a napkin to dab at your mouth. 

Once more, you’re in the middle, Kumatani and Usahara on either side, lagging behind you by a step or two. Usahara, with an unearned satisfaction, smiles at the way you sway a little from side to side, humming some melody over and over. 

“Aw, I wanna do karaoke. Usahara? Can you do me a favor?” 

You pout and look over your shoulder at Usahara with the biggest doe eyes, as though you need to even try to act cute to sway him into doing anything; his heart is throbbing against his rib cage. Yes, please, look at him, ask him for something, any little thing your brain can think up. Usahara needs you to look at him first. He knows Kumatani, the strong, quiet, reliable one, he’s the one who's boyfriend material, the guy you take home to meet your family and build a future with. Usahara’s the goofy buddy, cracking jokes and one liners, good company for a fun time and he’s eager to please. 

Unlike Kumatani, Usahara is painfully aware of how he comes off and wouldn't be surprised in the least if you had him all figured out already. He scrambles to be at your beck and call, incessantly following you around like a lost puppy for scraps of attention and praise. It doesn’t matter if you’re asking for his opinion on a script or inquiring about a good spot for grilled meat; it’s an opportunity to prove something to you, to finally make something click in your head and somehow, realize he was always the one. 

"Pick me." Usahara can't stop his own train of thought as you hesitate. You always make his mind go to mush like this. "Choose me. Let me make you happy."

“What’s up?” Usahara grins like it’s all some big joke but he could drown in those big eyes, melt against your pouting lips. “Your wish is my command.”

“What’s that band called? The one we heard on the radio yesterday on your bike?”

“Hot Freaks?” 

“Yeah that’s it! Man, that was bugging me, I hate when I forget stuff like that. Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” Usahara doesn’t stop smiling. Pathetic. He’s so pathetic. “Weather’s supposed to be pretty decent tomorrow; want to go for a ride after breakfast? Lunch? Brunch?”

“Is it? Alright, I’m game.” You give him a knowing look. “No funny business, no driving like a maniac. You nearly gave me a heart attack last time when you-oh!”

“Hey!”

“Watch it!”

There doesn’t seem to be anything to trip over, but all the same, you had wobbled and lurched back. The only reason you’re not laying flat on your back and looking up at the starry sky is because Usahara and Kumatani had sprung into action; there’s two sets of hands on both your shoulders, steadying you so you can stand upright. There’s no telling who reached you first.

“Dammit, pay attention to where you’re walking.” Kumantani’s hand grips onto your shoulder, firm and assuring. “Do you need to lean on me?”

“I got her.” Usahara hasn’t let go of your shoulder and his other hand takes yours gently. “I can take her home with me; we are gonna hang out tomorrow anyway.”

“You’re drunk too; why don’t you go home and sleep it off?” Kumatani says pointedly. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

“Dude, she doesn’t need a babysitter.” 

“I’m the one who’s the most sober, it makes sense if I take her back.”

“We’re closer to my place.”

“I don’t trust you!”

“What?” Usahara stares incredulously. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I-I didn’t mean, wait,” Kumatani looks just as taken aback by his outburst. “I’m only saying, you’ve been drinking a lot.”

“Uh, guys?” You look back and forth between them; your head's spinning. “Guys?”

“So that means I’d take her back to my place and…do what exactly?” Usahara could punch someone. “Take advantage of her?”

“I didn’t say that.” Kumatani shakes his head earnestly. “Look, I don’t know what got into me, okay? I’m sorry.”

Kumatani isn’t lying; Usahara knows it, but it doesn’t mean he’s any less pissed. What Kumatani actually meant by “I don’t trust you” is he doesn’t trust Usahara to be alone with you, not when he’s drunk and loose lipped and liable to say something to finally tip the scales in his favor. If Kumatani heads out and leaves the two of you alone now, will there be sparks? The line could finally be crossed and what could Kumatani do but be left to the wayside, the official third wheel, and it’s too little too late for him. 

Usahara knows something of the sort is running through Kumatani’s racing mind, because that’s how he feels every time the three of you are together now.

“Forget it.” Usahara releases your arm. “You’re right, I’m really drunk; I can walk back to my place. You should take her home.”

“Hey, Usahara, Kumatani?” You speak up tentatively. “Is something…like, going on? You two have been acting off all night. Did something happen between you two?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Kumatani also retracts his hand, but stays close to you. “We’re tired, that’s all.”

“Cause seriously, I know Usahara; you don’t think he’d try to take advantage of a drunk girl, do you?” You ask Kumatani directly. “He’s your friend.”

“I know, that’s not it, I was just…I get overprotective sometimes. I had a few too many myself earlier.” Kumatani seems to shrink under your critical eye. “I went into big brother mode, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“Well, thanks, but you don’t need to apologize. I never have to worry about anything around you, Kumatani.” You tell him with a warm smile. “I know you don’t mean to overdo it; and anyway, it’s what I like about you.”

“Don’t oversell it.” Kumatani rubs the back of his neck. “Either way, I’d feel weird making you go home alone. Let us walk you back.”

“I appreciate you two looking out for me.” You say gratefully and pat Kumatani’s head. “You know, you’re like the big brother I always wanted, but tone it down a notch, alright? We’re all just hanging out having fun, right?”

“Yeah, right.” 

Kumatani watches dumbly as you start walking once more, eyes forward this time to avoid any unexpected trips to the ground. He looks lost and Usahara can’t stop the pangs of sympathy that go out to his friend. 

“Oh wow dude.” Usahara mutters, clapping a hand to Kumatani’s shoulder. “That’s rough.”

“Shut. Up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s mostly silence on the way back to your apartment with occasional attempts on your end to get a conversation going again. After the exchanges of goodbyes and goodnights, Usahara and Kumatani wait at your door, making sure you get inside and lock it behind you. They stand outside your door for a few seconds before turning around.

“I need a freaking drink.”

“Want to get a nightcap?”

“Sure, whatever.” Kumatani’s expression softens. “Hey, I am sorry about earlier. I honestly didn’t mean it that way. I know you wouldn’t...”

“Yeah, I figured.” Usahara sighs. “Still, you thought we might end up doing something if it was just us alone.”

“I don’t know what I thought.”

“Dude, playing dumb is my thing.”

“You are dumb.”

Usahara smiles. “So, what do we do?”

“What do you mean?” Kumatani looks genuinely confused. “About drinks?”

“Ugh, man, you’re depressing me.” Usahara whines. “Just be straight with me: are you going to ask her out or not?”

Kumatani scowls. “None of your business.”

“Fine, be that way.” Usahara's smile falls. “Hypothetically, what if she decides to date one of us?”

“I doubt it.”

“I mean, you might be the cool one, but girls like a good sense of humor.” Usahara says lightly, folding his hands behind his head. “And you’re about as dry as seaweed paper.”

“Can you take anything seriously?”

“I’m serious about her.” 

Usahara stops in his tracks; the bunny’s already out of the hutch. He’s never been one to bite his tongue and keep his thoughts to himself anyway. 

“I’m pretty sure when I tell her, she’s gonna laugh in my face, but I don’t care. If there’s even a small chance, I’m going for it. She’s worth it.” Usahara frowns. “Are we going to be okay?”

Kumatani’s mouth is downturned, considering the question sincerely. After years of knowing each other, Usahara can’t name an instance where they’ve fought. Bickering, sure, and plenty of times where Kumatani’s wrath has been activated or Usahara’s been irritated, but it’s never gotten serious. 

“I don’t think so.”

“You hesitated.”

“Well, what about you?” Kumatani asks defensively. “Are you going to cry if she starts dating someone?”

“...honestly?” Usahara chuckles sheepishly. “Probably. This really sucks.”

“No arguments there.” Kumatani concedes with a wry smile. “We have to be cool; we can’t count on Uramichi or Nekota to offer any sympathy about this, can we?”

“Yeah right; if she picks me, I’m going to rub it in your face.”

“I’m going to go back to her place right now and tell her that.”

“No! I’m sorry Kumatani, it was a joke, just a joke!”

“Hey, I like her too.”

“Uh,”

“I get it now.” Kumatani says quietly. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Usahara’s stomach drops; this is exactly what he was dreading, but what is he going to do? Tell Kumatani to knock it off? Say “But I liked her first!” and call dibs? He feels childish enough; when Kumatani had so innocently put his hands on you to keep you propped upright, Usahara had to fight off another pesky impulse, this time to yank you into his arms and never let go.

“Took ya long enough.” Usahara yawns. “I changed my mind; I’m gonna go to bed so I can get up early.”

“Early?” Kumatani looks vaguely disbelieving. “You really don’t want to pay for breakfast, huh?”

“I’m paying either way.” Usahara shrugs. “Shouldn’t the guy pay on dates?”

Kumatani stands under the street light and Usahara can see the resolve in his gaze. 

“Does she know it’s a date?”

“Call it a test run.” Usahara shrugs his shoulders again. “See you later, Kumatani.”

“Later.” 

Kumatani nods stiffly; they walk away in opposite directions, satisfied to leave things on a tentative truce of sorts. Usahara knows he’s being a little sneaky, but he believes whatever happens, their friendship can survive the fall out. Ultimately the final decision is yours alone.

Until then, all's fair in love and war. 

Birthday Wishes

Summary: Uramichi may not like birthdays, but he might like you. 2.5k A/N: Official art from Gaku Kaze; Uramichi Omota/F!Reader, lots of fluff and some humor. TW: Mentions of depression and self esteem issues (kinda a given considering it's Uramichi, but still) Enjoy!

Working on Together with Maman was one of the most thankless, tedious jobs you’ve ever been underpaid to do. While the director got to lord over the staff and the actors got some praise and respect, you were just one of the many unsung heroes behind the scenes. Editing out Uramichi Omota’s regular mental breakdowns and existential crises from the show’s footage was a full time job in and of itself, but you did it every week without fail for the past three years. At this point you could practically do it in your sleep; sometimes Uramichi’s strained, desperate attempts to keep a cheerful expression on his face made regular appearances in your dreams. You suspected the void that was his stare would haunt your mind long after the time came for you to leave Together with Maman .

You did feel a bit guilty at the twinge of resentment you had toward the cast when they got the lion’s share of the glory. After all, they all had their good points: to start, Kumitani was fairly considerate of the staff, particularly those on the lowest rungs of the workplace hierarchy. Speaking of hidden kindness, despite Utano’s complaints, she was a devoted and thoughtful girlfriend. Iketeru’s childish wonder and joy was infectious; he hardly ever complained and was very appreciative. Even Usahara with his bad habit of putting his foot in his mouth, was still committed to a certain level of professionalism and was quick to amend for his mistakes. When everything was said and done, you had a fondness for them all.

Last but not least, there was Uramichi. One works with many different types in the entertainment industry and you were no stranger to washed up, jaded, regularly drinking their weight in booze performers putting on a show off and on camera but Uramichi was the worst.

Needless to say, you were crazy about the man.

Today was Uramichi’s 32nd birthday and though he no doubt would prefer to ignore such a day all together, you couldn’t help yourself. This was the perfect time to do something to show your appreciation for Uramichi and not just as a gymnast oniisan. With any luck, he might not hate it. In fact, you were certain he was going to love what you chose to do.

After making up an excuse to get his attention, Uramichi dutifully trailed after you, grim faced and changed out of his costume. You intercepted him just as Usahara and a somewhat less enthusiastic Kumatani were going to usher their colleague to a bar for a night of begrudging celebration. As unlikely as it was that Uramichi would rather spend any evening doing more work, you thought he seemed a bit relieved to be taken away. 

“Sorry, this won’t take long.”

“It’s fine.” Uramichi assured you in the most unconvincing attempt you ever heard. “Your job is editing, right? What do you need me for?”

“I wanted to get your approval on a few things. I wanted to work in some parts of what you were saying to the kids before.”

“From the segment about labeling?” 

That particular sketch was meant to teach the children about putting their names on their school things. Doing this would help them keep track of their positions, as well as teach them about personal responsibility. It could even be a good chance to allow children to practice their spelling and penmanship. It all went about as well as it could have.

“The bit where you warned the children about adhering to the labels others will try to assign to you and how the pressures of society are designed to slowly crush any trace of individuality that doesn’t help them go with the flow was a bit long winded, but I think we can keep in bits and pieces.”

“You…want to keep it in?”

“I mean, it’s not a bad message.” You type in the passcode to the staff room. “The script is good, but you have a way of talking to kids so they can understand without talking down to them. Not everyone learns at the same pace; it helps when adults can get on a kid’s level. Most are too proud.”

“You,” Uramichi followed you into the room. “Are you saying I lack pride as an adult?”

“What? No.”

As you pull out a seat for Uramichi to use, his face says he doesn’t believe you. Seeing how despondent he is makes you want to call the whole thing off, but then you would have to come up with an excuse as to why you requested his presence in the first place. 

Anyone would be justified in feeling insulted at Uramichi’s knee jerk reaction to assume the worst; it’s hardly charming, but you get it. How much of Uramichi’s attitude is natural or something he uses like a shield is anyone’s guess. 

“I guess it makes sense. It’s not like we know each other that well. Besides, this is our first time speaking one on one and I had to lie to you.” 

Uramichi was glancing around the room; there wasn’t any projector or cameras or a computer. 

“Wait, so you don’t think I have any pride?”

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” You stare in disbelief. “I meant about looking over the footage. Hold on, I need to-”

“So then…was all that other stuff you said just to get me to come here?”

“No, it wasn’t. I’ve already got someone editing that segment anyway.” 

In the corner is an easel, like one of the props they use for presentations in the show. Instead of a whiteboard or a display of cartoon images, there’s a sheet covering up the project you’ve been working on just for today. 

“That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“I thought you were going to lecture me about being more professional so you didn’t have such a heavy workload. I’m sure most of your time is taken up erasing the evidence of my family unfriendly fits of despair. My bad.”

“Even hearing you apologize is bumming me out.” You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that much trouble. Besides, it’s really not my place to scold you or the other cast members.”

“Why not? You have to make up for our screw ups. Don’t tell me it can’t be stressful. You look tired just being here.”

“That’s not really something you should say to a woman. Well, anyone really.”

The blank stare widens as Uramichi realizes what he implied, but you cut him off. Things have gotten awkward enough without dragging on this conversation. Besides, you brought him here to cheer him up, if that’s even possible.

“I hope you like this. I made it for your birthday. Well, I put it together. The kids made it.”

You unveil the display with a smile, hoping you had this right and Uramichi wasn’t going to walk out. Or worse, put on his fake smile to spare your feelings. You prefer an honest reaction to your efforts.

“These are all the drawings kids have sent in for the past year. I got the idea to save them up and make a collage.”

The board is covered in crayon doodles, rough sketches, and messy paintings. There’s some postcards and pages ripped from coloring books. Almost all of them are of Uramichi-oniisan in various costumes, mainly his tracksuit: in some he’s frolicking with Kumao-kun or Usao-kun or holding hands with Utano and Iketeru. Some illustrations are of Uramichi surrounded by children or animals or just random scribbles. There’s also a decent amount featuring Kotori-san but you try not to think about that too hard. 

“I thought maybe we could show the board in a show, but I wanted you to see it first. We could keep it safe in the studio, if you don’t have room for it in your place. It’s your birthday present.” 

Uramichi stands up to get a closer look; he doesn’t look appalled and you choose to take this as a good sign. You step to the side, trying not to seem too nervous when he stands by your side; after a minute, Uramichi still hasn’t said anything. Even so, you’re feeling more worried by the second.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Good.” You smile, but don’t feel too relieved. “You’re not just saying that, right? It’s okay, you can be honest. Is it too cheesy? Maybe I should have left out the ones with Kotori-san.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I hate that demon, but the kid’s probably worked hard to draw it. I don't mind so much. You said this took a year?”

“More or less. Uramichi, whatever you think, you’re appreciated. The kids see you do your best. It’s more than a lot of people bother to do. I figured you wouldn’t want a staff party, but everyone here sees it too. We’re glad to have you as our gymnast oniisan.”

Uramichi was still looking over the pictures. “You work a lot harder than I do.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Our jobs are just different.”

“But no one gives the behind the scenes crew much credit. I’ve never been especially considerate to your job before, but you spent a year making me a present?”

“I only collected the drawings. It only took a couple hours to actually put it together.” You replied. “Is this too much?”

“Yeah. I don’t deserve this.” Uramichi told you bluntly. “I don’t get it. Why did you do this?”

For a long time now, you’ve watched Uramichi drag himself through the day; as much as he professes going through the motions, you know that’s not exactly true. 

“The thing is, I wish I could do more. I want you to have a nice birthday.”

“I don’t like celebrating my birthday. It just reminds me that I’m a year older and I’ve wasted more time. Which is strange, since I don’t even know why I feel that way. I can’t even imagine what else I would be doing if I wasn’t an oniisan, so why do I feel like I’m wasting time at all? I can’t do this forever. I’m already 32, but I don’t have anything planned for when I get too old for Together with Maman. ’’

“You could probably still find work on another show. It doesn’t have to be physical. Unless you want to leave the industry for something else entirely. I bet you could do something with your physical education degree; you’ve had experience with children, then maybe you could work that into whatever you go for next.” 

“That…sounds like a lot to think about.”

You can’t help laughing a little at how defeated Uramichi looks just from the prospect of having to start over. It’s oddly cute, like a sad puppy being told they have to go to the vet.

“It is, but if you do it one step at a time, it won’t be so daunting. That’s why I like birthdays: I see them as a chance to, well,” You scratch your head. “It’s like, yes, I made it another year! It wasn’t easy, but I’m here and that’s enough. It’s something to celebrate.”

“Hey, you should be more careful with how you phrase things.”

“What did I say wrong?”

“You’re going to make me think you have feelings for me or something.” Uramichi chuckles dryly, turning his back on you to head toward the door. “If I was Usahara, I would take this as a proposal. But anyway, thanks. I can’t remember when someone tried so hard. I guess I should return the favor. I’m being emotionally blackmailed into going out tonight: if you want, you can join. Or not. Do you drink?”

“Yes, to both.”

“Both?”

“I wanted to tell you this now, before I start taking classes full time next month. Uramichi, I like you. I do, so,” You clear your throat. “Happy birthday. I hope you’ll still accept the poster. It’s more from the kids than me anyhow. I was going to bake you something, but I wasn’t even sure if you liked cake or-”

“You talk a lot. Hold on, I need a minute.”

Uramichi has his head in his hands; he looks pale and visibly disturbed. It seems like your confession wasn’t appreciated, but you could have guessed as much. Maybe you’re too different or maybe Uramichi just isn’t interested in dating.

You can respect that, no matter how much it hurts you. In hindsight, it would have been better to keep quiet or just wait until your time was done at the studio, but you naively assumed Uramichi might like hearing someone cared. Not everything comes with conditions or ulterior motives; sometimes the pay off is as straightforward as making someone else’s day a little easier to get through. 

“I’m sorry. I should go.” You make your way past him to the door. “I hope you enjoy your night!”

“Wa-wait don’t just leave! You can’t drop a bomb like that and just breeze past like-like-!” Uramichi stumbles to get to you before you rush outside. “You’re serious? Did Usahara put you up to this?”

“No.”

“Well, are you, like, sure? You didn’t mistake me for someone else?”

“You’re Uramichi Omota?”

“Yeah.”

“If this makes you uncomfortable, you really don’t have to worry, I never said anything to anyone else.”

“It’s not that. I’m just…processing. Do you really?”

“You know, maybe the next segment we do should be on active listening skills.” You cross your arms. “Uramichi, this isn’t rocket science. If you’re not interested, okay. I’ll live. I don’t mind being single, but I wouldn’t be bothering you with this if I wasn’t serious.”

Uramichi seems calmer, but no less baffled; it’s probably the most emotion you’ve ever seen him emote at once that wasn’t irritation or exhaustion. Surely he has had other girls confess to him before; you heard he was pretty popular in school. You don’t see why he’s having a hard time handling this one. 

“When I was drunk, I said I thought you were cute. I wouldn’t put it past that damn bunny to try to rope you into one of his pranks.”

You grin. “You did? When?”

“Come on, I’m embarrassed enough. I’m too old for this.”

“For what?”

“To act this way.” Uramichi sighs and drags a hand over his face. “I hate it. It’s like I’m back in high school or something. It’s awkward and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t you already feel that way?”

“That doesn’t help.”

“So then?” You shrug your shoulders. “Am I cute enough to date?”

To your surprise, Uramichi’s cheeks flush slightly; you wonder if your own nervousness is showing. Truly, adults pretend as much as kids do. 

“Is that offer for a drink still valid? Unless you don’t want me flirting with you in front of everyone.”

“No way.” Uramichi objects. “I don’t want to deal with that headache. Let’s not say anything until after you’re done working here.”

“Oh, now who’s making big plans for the future?” You can't resist a little more teasing. "I thought looking that far ahead was too much to handle?"

“That was when I didn’t have something to look forward to.”

Uramichi might not have meant it to sound like a line; he said it with the same bland, borderline monotone that he usually spoke with, but you feel butterflies all the same.