Some Fluff W Koushi Maybe?

Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶

koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute

thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!

warnings. none info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3

"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.

You smiled without looking up from the register.

Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:

"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."

He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.

"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."

"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.

Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.

"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.

You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.

Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.

7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.

"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.

"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.

He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.

He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.

The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.

The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.

It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.

This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.

Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.

His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.

He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.

Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.

Say something!

He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.

"Good luck with finals," You said softly.

When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.

A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.

masterlist.

requests open.

Fried-busboy

I was so confused as to why wilson's big stupid puppy dog eyes looked familiar. and then it finally hit me

he got two for the price of one lol

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x Reader (no pronouns used)

SUMMARY — James comes home just in time to help with dinner

WARNINGS — one almost dirty joke

NOTE — This is a request from the winner of my fic lottery @anayame The concept was so cute to write and I hope you like it!

Middle picture credit goes to @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

It had been a while since James could confidently say he had come home to the smell of food being cooked in the kitchen. The sound of onions sizzling and sauces bubbling was like a fanfare welcoming and inviting him into the space. 

“Hey, you got back home just in time,” he heard your voice call from the kitchen. “I need an extra pair of hands, get in here.” 

“Normally when people say that it means the food is already finished cooking,” James teased, after having taken off his shoes and rolled up his sleeves so that you could put him to work. 

“And let you miss out on this fun?” you scoffed. “No way.” 

“Where do you need me?” he asked, coming to stand behind you, placing his hands on your hips and pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Cause I’m more than happy to just keep doing this.” 

“Ease up, lover boy,” you chuckled. “Steak needs searing and I know how particular you get about your perfect medium.” 

“Steak, are we celebrating?” he asked. 

“Yes, the fact that you made it home on time for dinner,” you looked over at him to gauge his reaction and he couldn’t fight back a smile and shook his head. 

“How was work?” he asked, side-stepping your comment. 

“My arch-nemesis is an eight-year-old named Justin, how do you think work went?” you asked and James laughed at your response. “I’m kidding, it was alright, Justin has a cold so he wasn’t in class today.” 

“I’m excited to come in for career day and meet all these eight-year-olds that occupy every story you tell,” he said. “Who knows, maybe Justin will like me.” 

“I doubt it, he only likes his friend Asante and even then sometimes Asante still gets caught up in his whirlwind. Kind of like you and House actually.” 

“I do not get caught up in his whirlwind,” James looked at you, offended, and you looked over at him to ask if he was serious. 

“You lied to the police for him, you most definitely got caught up in it.” 

James opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but shut it seeing as you had made a very valid point. 

“How was your day at work?” you asked. “Did Cuddy finally approve that expansion for the playroom?” 

“Not quite yet, but I think I’m almost there. Maybe if I throw House under the bus when he goes behind her back that’ll sweeten the deal,” he thought to himself. 

“But at what cost, House is gonna fight back and you’re gonna regret every decision you ever made.” 

James weighed his options before giving up and saying he’d decide what to do about it later. 

You moved over to the stove where James was to pour some pureed tomatoes into the onions frying on the stove to make a sauce to go on the side with the vegetables and the steak. What you didn’t realize is that James, in his haste to turn down the heat on the stove, would knock the spoon out of your hand, making it fall in the dish and making the tomatoes splatter all over your shirt. 

“Oh my God,” James’ eyes went wide, seeing the splotch on your shirt. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I should have known having you in the kitchen would only result in disaster,” you teased, not at all upset by the mess. “It’s nothing a little TLC can’t take care of.” 

“Can I make it up to you?” James asked. “I know how much you liked that shirt.” 

You used your finger to scoop off some of the pureed tomato off your shirt and place it on his nose. 

“I don’t know, can you?” you asked with raised brows. 

James wiped the sauce off his nose before grabbing your sleeves and giving you a signal with his eyes for you to slip your arms out of them before he helped pull the shirt off your head without contaminating anything else, leaving you in a thin tank top. 

“I think you’re just making it up to yourself,” you laughed, looking down at what you were wearing. 

“If I were making it up to myself, I would have done this,” he took the spoon out of the tomato sauce and flicked it at you, now getting your undershirt dirty. “Oops.” 

“Oh, you’re so going to pay for that,” you shook your head and just to spite him you kept the tank top on even though it was dirty. 

By then the butter in James’ pan had melted and was beginning to bubble so he turned his attention back to the stove so that he could begin searing the steak. You cooked in tandem for a while, and once the steak was cooked James stole a few kisses from you, apologizing again for your shirt and you assured him he could take it off later if he really wanted to. 

“Do you want me to set the table?” James asked, after washing his hands and having set the steak off to the side. 

“That would be nice, it could be like a little home date,” you smiled while putting some potatoes in the oven to cook. 

You watched as James dug around the cupboards for a tablecloth and candles, carefully setting everything up on the dining room table so that it was just right. 

Slowly, one by one, the dishes made their way onto the table as they were ready and when everything was set up you looked down at yourself and wondered if maybe you were a bit underdressed. 

“Maybe I should change into something a little nicer,” you said while James lit the candles on the table. 

“Change, what for?” 

“I’ve got tomato all over my shirt, James. I thought that one was pretty obvious.” 

“No, I mean this is a home date, isn’t the whole point that it can be as messy as we want it to be?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t have to wear this tie,” he pointed to it as he came closer to you, prompting you to take it between your fingers and feel the fabric before helping him untie it and throw it off to the side. 

You unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and for good measure he took a spoon of the sauce and poured it on his shirt. 

“There, we match.” 

“And need to do a load of laundry after this,” you chuckled and pulled him in by the collar of his shirt for a kiss. “I love you, and I love cooking with you.” 

“Me too, to both of those things,” James agreed and you grinned before turning him around and pushing him in the direction of his seat, insisting that you were starving and needed to eat. “So, I was thinking,” James started while serving you some sides. 

“Oh, that’s dangerous.” 

“I was thinking,” he repeated. “Our anniversary is coming up. Do you want to do something special?” 

“Hmm,” you thought for a moment. “We could both take a sick day,” you suggested. “Or a few, go up to Connecticut, rent a cabin.” 

“Cook all day,” James teased and you smiled. “I think that sounds like a great plan. We’ve always talked about doing something like that haven’t we?” 

“Yeah, it just…I don’t know, never seemed like the right time.” 

“You sure you won’t miss your kiddos too much?” he asked. 

“As much as I love them, a few days just the two of us is too enticing to pass up,” you sipped your drink. 

Eating dinner was not nearly as fun as cooking it together, but you both made do with what you could and James stories were nothing short of interesting especially when they included House and his team. 

“Alright, I think I’m stuffed now,” you leaned back in your seat. “But we should clean this up before I go into a food coma.” 

“I wash, you rinse?” James asked. 

“We have a dishwasher, James,” you chuckled. 

“I know, I just thought you might want to spend more time, but I know when my company isn’t wanted,” he feigned offence. 

“Awe, that’s actually really sweet,” you let out a small laugh. “Alright, I’ll suffer through dishwashing for you, Wilson.” 

“Just for that, you’re washing and I’m rinsing,” he gave you a look and you conceded, standing up from the table and clearing the leftovers before getting started on what was in the sink. 

“James, be careful with that, you’re accidentally spraying water all over me,” you nudged him with your hip. 

“Oh sorry I meant to actually spray water all over you,” he turned the moveable faucet in your direction and you gasped when the water hit your shirt. “I mean you did say we needed to do laundry.” 

“Is this why you wanted to wash dishes? To get me wet?-I heard it James don’t you dare make a comment,” you immediately amended and he fought back a chuckle. 

“I love you,” he smiled again and you wished he would wipe that stupid grin off of his face because it made it really hard to be annoyed with him. 

“You think you can just say I love you and it’s gonna make it all better?” you asked. “Cause you’re right, it is,” you grabbed his face with your soapy hands and pressed a kiss to his lips, sandwiched between smiles and chuckles. 

To say you both looked ridiculous by the end was an understatement, but James couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun at dinner and it became very clear that maybe he needed to come home a little early more often.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @kiddbegins @il0vebeingdelulu @illicit4ff4irs @lynnsthoughts @miarabanana @iwmflbb @/shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

a winning bet. ( robert chase x reader )

It was apparent to those who paid enough attention that Chase had feelings for you. Whenever he was distracted or particularly quiet during a diagnosis House would tease him about the 'sexy trauma surgeon,' and Chase would refrain from saying anything while Cameron and Foreman snickered. Neither could believe that you would ever date him.

Two months ago, neither did he, but here you were, enjoying lunch at a restaurant a short distance from the hospital. You covered your mouth as you laughed, placing your glass on the table.

Chase shook his head, "I'm serious! It's constant. I'm sick and tired of hearing about how we would never work out."

You took his hand, smiling softly. "We're working out great, aren't we? Who cares what other people think?"

Chase smiled slowly, "Well, yes, but - don't you think we should, you know? Tell people? It's been two months."

"Then they'll be cracking jokes and making innuendoes." You told him.

Chase moved his hand away, and you sighed when he sat straighter in his chair. "You don't want to tell them."

"Of course I do - "

"Then what's the problem?" He leaned forward, arms resting on the table.

"What if things don't work out? What if we let the world affect this little bubble, it bursts, and we hate each other? I don't want to hate you. I love you."

His eyes widened, a smile forming on his lips. It was the first time you had ever said I love you. And although he felt the same, he was worried that you wouldn't. House had a habit of getting into his head at the worst of times, and lately, he was living there rent-free.

"I love you too." He said, holding your hand. "And I want to be able to show it without the sneaking around."

You smiled bashfully, "I thought you were ashamed of me or something. I didn't want to lose this."

Chase looked at you seriously, "I would never be ashamed of you. And it was nice. Just us. But I want more." He squeezed your hand, and you smiled.

"Me too."

The following Monday, you entered the hospital, hand in hand, and you smiled when he kissed your hand, feeling your grip tighten due to the stares. "I'll see you at lunch." He told you. You smiled when he kissed your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." You headed in opposite directions, knowing that everyone would be gossiping about you and Chase within the hour. But as you changed into scrubs, you realized there was an even greater thrill in outing your relationship than hiding it. You knew every nurse who gawked over him daily was envious of you, but you knew they only cared about his looks. Chase saved everything else for you.

You looked up from your paperwork, your smile turning into a confused frown when House took your pudding. "I lost fifty bucks because of you."

Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at Chase for answers when he appeared. "They made bets on whether we got together or not."

You nodded, looking at House with a grin. "Only fifty?"

He glared at you, though you knew he was amused as he walked away. Chase shook his head as he sat down. "Do you want to go for dinner? It's on me." He held up at least a hundred and fifty in bills, a smirk on his lips.

"You bet on us too?"

"Yeah. After we got together." He said, making you laugh.

Chase smiled, pocketing the money and taking your hands across the table. "How about dinner, wine, and a movie?"

You smiled, "Perfect." You told him.

"Just like you."

"Cheeseball." You smiled when he kissed your hand, smiling fondly as you tried to remember what you had been so worried about before.

Suguwara with 8!!!

8 with sugawara… confessions 🥺🫶🏻

He stands in front of your locker for a concerning amount of time, fiddling with the note in his hand as he ponders the pros and cons of confessing to you.

Pro: you’ll say yes.

Con: you’ll say no, laugh at him, dump your milk on his head and walk away with no regard.

Koushi doesn’t know if he should risk it. After all, you have known each other for years, who would he be to ruin such a stable friendship with feeling that may or may not be reciprocated?

“Koushi?” Your voice snaps him back to reality, and he fists his note in his hand sharply. “You’ve been standing in front of my locker for the past five minutes. Everything okay?”

He says nothing. His mouth feels cottony and dry, and when he tried to choke out words, they only come out as squeaks. His brain decides to shove the note at you, his cheeks blazing with nerves and his hands trembling as he holds it. You smile softly and take the folded note from him, unfolding it and flicking your eyes up at him.

“Koushi,” you begin, and he could throw up right now. This is it, the rejection, the heartbreak, the betrayal- “I know.”

You what. “You what?”

You snicker, “I know; Daichi told me.”

Traitor. Koushi sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, “I’m going to kill him.”

“Dont- he saved our friendship,” you say, smiling sweetly. “I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore, with how you were avoiding me. I was so hurt, until he told me.”

He swallows thickly- you thought he didn’t want to be friends? That’s the last thing he wanted! Especially if it was hurting you, and-

“What’re you doing?”

“Reading the confession.”

“Dont!” He whines, making a mad dash for the letter, which you expertly flick out of his grip. “I didn’t know you knew, it’s so embarrassing!”

“It’s cute!” You giggle, avoiding his grabs. “Gotta kiss me if you want it back.” He tenses up and his cheeks blaze again, and you laugh and ruffle his hair, “I’m kidding. I’d be an asshole to pressure you into kissing me.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and laughs, letting you pull him into a hug, your arms tossing around his neck. “I feel the same way, Koushi. I accept your confession.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes,” you snicker. “More than you know.”