now that its cold again and i am, once again, too cheap to turn on the heat in my apartment, i am back in my allen era...
"but why won't you turn on the heat?" he asks, confusion laced into his question. it's not out of place, his inability to understand your logic.
mostly because you don't want to tell him your plan.
hanging out at allen's small apartment is always cold and you always sneak in a way to have his arms wrapped around you. but lately, ever since his stove stopped working and the landlord's taking his sweet time to fix it, you've been spending time at your place.
allen's not good at initiating cuddle times - it's awkward and straining for him to ask for the affection you'll freely give and you can be stunted too, in making the moves that are sometimes needed to push you both.
so, after lavi's suggestion, you decided to let the heaters stay turned off, because this will make sure that you're cuddled up for warmth shortly after dinner. it's a secure deal.
except, allen won't stop asking questions.
he does it out of worry. are you short on money? did the heater break and you dont know how to fix it? are you suddenly self-conscious about his choice of letting it stay off for as long as possible? should he take an extra shift at work to help you replace it?
you try to shrug off his question again, wiping down the countertop after dinner and deflecting, "should we continue 90 days fiance tonight?"
(allen's official stance will always be that reality tv like that is staged and shallow - but that won't stop him from being dramatically invested in the bad choices of these people desperate for love.)
he huffs out a breath and lets his shoulders sag. then, he shakes his head and reaches out for your hands.
with both of his. a recent development you've been more than thrilled about - yet you're too afraid it will make him uncomfortable to mention it.
you squeeze his and muster up the most nonchalant expression you can before you lean in close and talk before he can ask another question, "we can bring the duvet and bedcover into the livingroom with us."
if you think it's rude that he rolls his eyes at you, you don't say it out loud. instead, you inhale sharply before you kiss him. he grunts unexpectedly - he loves kissing you, feeling the shape and warmth of your lips, but he's not used to it yet.
he sighs and locks eyes with you, "you promise everything's okay?"
you laugh and swat his shoulder, "yes."
he eyes you for a moment like he sometimes eyes kanda when his definitely-not-friend-but-also-close-friend says something suspiciously kind to him.
you kiss him again, "it's embarassing to say out loud but i promise that my intentions are good and that there literally isn't any issues. can you please be a good boyfriend and come cuddle with me now?"
he thinks it's underhanded, how you use the term boyfriend, fully aware of how flustered it makes him. you smile victoriously before you grab onto his left hand and drags him into the living room, caressing his scarred skin with your thumb all the way. you can't wait to be covered in blankets, duvets and the scent of him for the rest of the evening, listening to him revert to his rude speech pattern as the people on screen makes the worst choices or says the worst things publicly. it's still early, but you think you love him.
content: you work at the cafe where Allen's a regular. You're not sure if he's actually flirting with you or if he's just polite. Then you have a flare up of eczema on your face and it finally emboldens him to take it to the next step
tags: fluff, sfw, strangers to lovers, modern AU, coffeeshop AU, gender neutral reader, body positive and poc friendly reader, no use of y/n, eczema condition not specified but locations of it a little bit, barista!reader, getting to know each other and opening up, soft, unbeta'd, mentions of nasty experiences with former dates about bad eczema stereotypes and stigma
wordcount: 1.9k
notes: my psoriasis is flaring up rn... and i couldnt stop thinking about allen helping with ointments and then this idea came to mind and i just couldnt help making up the story on the bus yesterday!!! i hope you enjoy and that your skin isnt hurting too bad if you have eczema <3 also happy disability pride month, hope this brings a smile to someones face!!! <!!3
You’ve seen him in the cafe for well over six months now. He started showing up with just his laptop and a polite request for boiled water. Sometimes at the end of the month, he asked for tea. He always wears long sleeves and gloves.
If it’d been anyone else, you’d deduce he’s flirting with you. Allen calls you endearing names when you step by with a fresh cup, answers your curious questions about his choice of drink and the work he does, all with a handsome smile playing on his features as he rests his head in his palm. He genuinely seems to be enjoying the chats you share, and sometimes he’s the one who engages them when you pass him or if there’s a lull in customers.
There’s no rhyme or reason as to when he brings his friends – or when they simply show up unannounced – but it’s very clear by his behavior then that he might just be an extremely polite Englishman to strangers like you and nothing else.
There’s two friends – close, judging by how often you see them – that seems to bring out another side of him. A guy with a blond braid and a dark haired man with a high ponytail. They both seem tired and uptight in their own ways, and always nag Allen whenever they’re the ones stopping by. It seems he’s got an issue of procrastination, and they’re helping him. How much he actually wants that help, you’re unsure of. But based on the biting and complaints he throws at both of them, they’re not always welcome.
You’re scratching at the back of your neck by the hairline where your eczema is, as you observe him with a redhead today, joking around and laughing. His laugh is really beautiful. It’s light and airy and carries well in the cafe.
He has a peculiar scar on his face that you’ve yet to ask him about; you feel you’re being intrusive enough with your above-the-surface type of questions. You’re mostly curious because you have a feeling about it, but you can't be sure just looking at it and you don't want to assume.
He comes and goes, and sometimes you don’t see him for weeks, sometimes months, but he always comes back and looks positively delighted when he sees you by the register, telling you that he’s missed your voice or your smile.
You’re on the fence on reciprocating his advances. If he’s this different to you than with his friends, you wonder if there’s a reason for it. You’ve been burned and hurt before by men wearing masks.
He comes up to the register with his cup and the small plate you served a croissant on, and thanks you again for the day. His friend whistles and wishes you a good night, earning a slap from Allen and a scolding on the way out.
Two days later, you’ve gotten permission to wear a cap at work by your manager and the one customer you don’t want to see announces his arrival with the jingle of the bell. When you look up and see Allen, you wince. You timidly look down and when he comes up to the counter, he politely but with an unsure lilt to his voice, asks for a cup of boiled water and starts to explain. When you look up, confused as to why he’s explaining routine for you, his eyes light up with recognition.
“It’s you! I couldn’t see your face!”
You notice how he almost reaches out for you with his hands, but stops himself and clears his throat. Then he smiles and leans down so that he can get a better view of your face, “how are things? Is there a special occasion for the cap – if it’s alright that I’m asking?”
You sigh and avoid his gaze, trying your hardest to ignore the urge to pull the cap lower. You’re 97% sure that the cap is hiding the eczema that’s flared on your forehead, but the small percentage of fear makes you want to feel sure. He seems to notice your distress and leans away, “hey, sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. You don’t have to tell me at all, the hat suits you, too.”
The hopeful sheen in your eyes when you look up at him in shock makes him mirror your own surprise. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks, biting his lower lip. You shake your head, and hurry away from the register to make his cup. You’re too afraid to look back at him to notice how his eyes follow your every move, a smidgen of worry and curiosity filling him, too.
You want to talk more with him as you hand him the cup, but there’s a line behind him. You cock your head to the size to refer to it and he immediately apologizes upon realization with a slight bow as he goes for his seat. You mentally reprimand yourself for suddenly being so stunted in your communication with a regular. A regular you actually like.
But men have talked nasty about your eczema before, men you’ve dated. Said it might be a hygiene problem that you could fix, indicating it’s your own fault, or asking if you couldn’t do them the favor of covering it up with makeup – nevermind the fact that makeup would upset it even more.
There’s a lull in customers where you sigh out in relief. You’ve been stealing glances at Allen’s table all morning, keeping an eye on his cup, too. You decide to bring him his refill now, that you have time to talk, too.
“I’m sorry I was a little short this morning,” you start as you pour the water into the cup. He looks up from his laptop and the way his entire face warms up at the sight of you, makes your tummy do somersaults. There’s an innocence to him that radiates warmth, and when he asks if you have time to sit down, noticing the quietness, you decide to be bold and accept.
He closes the laptop halfway and pushes it to the side, “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.” He says and apologizes. You nod, “it’s okay. I never wear caps at work, it was a change you noticed.”
He nods, “yeah but I promise I won’t push it! I don’t know what came over me, truly. I think I was just so excited to see a new side of you, or learn something new about you.”
You gulp at the bold choice of words, your fingers fidgeting under the table to stop them from going to your face in flustered embarrassment.
You smile and look down at the steam rising from his cup, “I have a flare-up right now.”
You expect him to look confused, quizzical or ask you to elaborate but his face seems to fall, “oh.”
You nod, “yeah, it doesn’t look… Well, personally I don’t think it looks that terrible, but I don’t want customers seeing or commenting on it.”
Allen nods and lets his hands go to his cup of water, wrapping around it and warming up his gloved fingers. He’s quiet still, so you continue, “it’s usually behind my ears and my hairline in the back of my neck... other places too, but I do flare on the forehead as well sometimes.”
You take a look around the cafe to make sure the few other customers aren’t looking, before you take the hat off. Allen follows your hands more than he looks at your head, but then he smiles like a lovestruck fool.
“Thank you… for telling me about that.”
You smile and put the cap back on, suddenly embarrassed by the hat hair. It’s not like people run away screaming from seeing eczema, but usually there’s a wince or a stronger reaction than what Allen’s giving you.
“Let me take you on a date.” he says and your back straightens and you feel yourself bristle.
“Eh?”
Is he joking with you?
He smiles as he looks down at his cup. You’re mesmerized by the slope of his nose as you find yourself admiring his features for longer than you should and while you don’t want to admit it, staring at his face makes you relax from his outrageous request. He then seems to decide something with a determined nod and starts to take off his left glove.
You follow the movement like you’ve been entranced. The gracefulness of his long fingers, the way the glove that hugs his hand so snug comes off at his tugging, and then the reveal of a dark, red hand and arm underneath the white fabric. His nails are painted black, but the scarring, the lumps and the cracked scaliness to his skin makes you clench your thigh underneath the table to compose your own reaction. You don’t want to be excited about learning someone else has eczema, Jesus Christ, you reprimand yourself.
You look at his face and his eyes are on the hand he’s rotating, a sad smile on his face. “I get it,” he says and sighs, before he starts to put on the glove again, “the scar on my face is eczema, too, but it reacts better to the ointments.”
You nod dumbly. Still unsure as to the correlation between opening up and asking you for a date.
“It’s embarrassing. Dates don’t want to hold my hands, they don’t want me to touch them or even their food if they find out. I’ve been trying to make myself ask you out for months now, but I’ve been so terrified you’d end up judging me if I were to show you.”
You suddenly can’t help but let out a laugh. It comes from relief at the situation, and you bend your head over the table as you let out a long breath. Allen looks at you with a confused smile, “are you… okay?” he asks unsure and you chuckle again before you look up at him, craning your neck to see him despite the cap.
“I’ve been so afraid of interpreting your flirting, because I was terrified you’d see my eczema one day and screech.”
Allen blushes, a deep and nice shade of red. Then he coughs into his hand and looks out the window, “so you knew I was flirting.”
You smile and reach for his gloved hands, making sure you’re gentle with the left, but still squeezing it nonetheless, “I had a feeling.”
He flinches at your touch but he doesn’t pull away, which makes you let out another sigh of relief, the situation still hitting you. You both let out nervous little laughs, holding hands.
You’re glad you showed him. You’re grateful he showed you, and now you feel that you can comfortably return his feelings. Allen seems relieved too, at the situation at hand. He suddenly starts pulling at your hands in his, and when he leans forward to kiss your knuckles, you think you’ll combust, heat crawling up your neck and to your face. You look down to hide your face with the cap and he whines, “that’s not fair. I wanna see the expressions you make.”
You’re about to say something in return, maybe something cheese if you’re feeling brave, but the jingle of the bell alerts you of customers, and you hastily get up and brush off your apron before you greet them. As you pass Allen you hurriedly whisper, “I’m off in two hours.”
He follows you as you walk up to the counter to take their orders, and he rests his chin in his palm, a lovesick smile on his features as he lets himself stare freely now that he knows there’s an actual chance to be had. He looks forward to getting to know you more.
Ummm I’m gonna go with!! 3 my lucky number and Kanda obvs. Thank u !! 🥰
my beloved bestie! 🧡✨ i could not write it any other way that i did because.... i didnt wanna give u angsty-angst bcos u and kanda deserve all good!!!!! u are so cute together i swear <333333
number three cashed out the sentence "just please open your eyes." ✨
it turned out to be 1.1k words and theres no real warnings except that there's a fight/argument between reader and kanda and he had a ..... special .. way of helping u emotionally. we love a strange little man!!!! ilysm!! i hope you enjoy and I APOLOGIZE AGGRESSIVELY FOR THE WAIT, i hope this is worth it !! 🫡🧡🧡🥰
”You can’t be serious.”
You’re seething with anger, warmth heating your cheeks and tears lining your lash line from the overwhelmingly growing frustration building up in you.
Kanda doesn’t spare you a glance from the couch where he takes a sip of his tea. You want to rip the cup from his hands and hurl it towards the wall. He knows that’s what you want to do – he wants you to try.
Calmly, he puts down the cup, with the little finger hitting the table first so it makes no sound as he was taught by Edgar.
“I am.” He answers cooly, leveling your stance with a glance in your direction. Your hands are clenched at your sides.
You’ve been holding in your anger for the past week, ever since getting fired from your job. No emotional reaction, no comments; Kanda hates when you hold it all in.
He knows the road paved to your emotions can be walled up though, so telling you directly to react will simply make you stubborn; make a point out of being just fine.
“That doesn’t mean you have the right to go and actively piss me off for a week straight!”
You’re yelling. Good. Kanda knows it’s about to hit. He’ll take most hits if it helps you, doesn’t even consider them hits, really. He prepares for more yelling, for punching a wall or the couch but what you end up doing is tremendously worse.
You turn around and walk to your shared bedroom. You don’t stomp, you don’t slam the door shut.
Kanda sits wide-eyed on the couch, confused. This isn’t like you; this is a reaction out of his scope of experience with you. Shit.
He fucked up.
Logically, Kanda knows this wasn’t the best route to take, that he sounds like what Lavi would call “red flag-ish”, but he prides himself in successfully getting to know you and your needs over the years you’ve been a couple. If he simply forces you, you will go the other way, refuse to mold into what people want – even if it is what you need.
Some emotions come for you, easier than they do for Kanda, but others do not. Kanda has through trial and error taught himself how to navigate what can often be considered a whirlpool of your emotions. But he’s gone left where he should’ve gone right somewhere the past six days. He’s not entirely sure where.
Kanda doesn’t like being reminded or becoming aware of his shortcomings so the anger he wanted you to feel just a few short moments ago, is suddenly bubbling up inside him for being too emotionally stunted to figure this out on his own. He refuses to call for help. Lavi and Allen would be of absolutely zero help – Lenalee and Alma on the other hand would kindly navigate the situation with him, however, the chance that either of the two are hanging with the two aforementioned idiots is way too high for him to risk it.
All there is left is to simply bite the bullet.
He gets up from the couch and stretches his back, feeling several joints pop into place. He doesn’t remember being this tense before he relaxed the muscles actively.
He won’t admit it to anyone, but he’s tiptoeing down the hallway, dreading the moment he reaches the door. He likes you the best when you’re at your brightest and bubbliest but he likes it the worst when you’re closed up – especially if it’s his fault.
With three concise raps, he announces his presence by the door. There’s no sound from the other side, so with furrowed brows he knocks again.
He’s rewarded with complete fuck all.
With a scowl he opens the door – the least you could do was answer him. He finds you wrapped up on your side of the bed, with your back turned towards him. He knows you’re not asleep; your routine is different than this plus it’s only been a few minutes.
He clicks his tongue as he rounds the bed to get to your side. Further proof that you’re not actually asleep is the way your face is scrunched up almost dramatically, to signal that you’re both angry and pretending. He shakes his head and pushes at your hips unceremoniously to make room for himself to sit on the edge. You let him without any complaints.
He sits there for a moment, silence falling heavy over the both of you. You’re clearly trying to control your breathing as best as you’re able, making it visible how performative it is. Kanda holds back from rolling his eyes.
“Stop acting like a child.”
You huff out a sound before pulling your duvet over your face – or you try to, but Kanda’s weight is stopping it by your chin. Maybe not the best way to start his apology, he notes.
“Get it together.”
You let out an imitation growl before you trash around to turn your back to him. He grabs your shoulder to stop you and sigh out, almost as dramatically as you’re being, “I’m sorry.”
It stops you from trying to turn away from him. Other than that, it doesn’t seem to do much else in Kanda’s favor. His hand that is still resting on your shoulder starts drawing mindless circles into it. He hopes it’s soothing; he wants to be soothing for you. He lets a few more beats pass before he talks again, “just please… open your eyes.”
You seem to listen to his plea, as you peek open one eye to scowl at him, “I won’t forgive you, dumbass.”
He can’t hold back the smirk. You have forgiven him by now if your reply is that. He leans down to kiss you but you pull back, “I don’t accept kisses from assholes.”
His face stays as close to you as you let him as he raises an eyebrow, “hm? That’s odd, given that you gave me a welcome home kiss a few hours ago.”
Your palm hits his face in a matter of seconds. He laughs and kisses your palm instead. You make a grossed-out sound and pull it back, “you’re infecting me with your dumbassery! Go away!”
He rolls his eyes but holds your hand, “if you’re already infected, I feel like you can give me a kiss anyways…”
You pout and huff out before you look at him, “be mindful next time you try to help me, okay?”
He nods, “I promise.”
You lean up the rest of the way and connect your lips. He’s happy he learned something new about you today; you’re his favorite thing to keep learning about, no matter how many years it’ll take. He’s looking forward to each and every one of them.
yohoo for the writing game!! how about Lavi (dgm) and 95?
have a good night:))
AAAA the way i screamed bcos lavi <3333333 i gotchu!
ur lucky prompt is this: “You came all the way here for me?” and its 872 words long! there're no warnings, it's a fluffy sort of confession thingy. there's the usual "lavi is bookman" angst tho!
it kinda ran from me ngl..... i wrote three different scenarios before i settled on this one, i really hope u like it <!!!!33333 and i hope you have a good night as well, im sending you smoochies and berries!
send me an ask with a random number between 1-210 and a character and i'll write you a little story!
Lavi’s sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling hazardously, swinging like he isn’t too many floors up and could possibly plummet to his death at any given moment if gravity and wind worked together to will his untimely end.
It doesn’t seem to matter much to him, as his mind is busy with other things, head rested in his palm, emerald eye searching the wide landscape in front of him for answers.
His question has all the answers he needs – he just doesn’t like those answers. Maybe Mother Nature will provide him some new ones if he stares at her fleeting canvas for long enough. At least, that’s what he’s banking on.
He’s in love with you.
He didn’t realize until he’d returned alive from Noah’s Ark and finally seen your face again after what had felt like the longest mission of his life. Your radiant smile welcoming him home, helping him to the cod where he was to rest after Miranda finally released her Innocence.
He’d dreamt about you in the Infirmary. So much so that he was afraid he might’ve said your name out loud and someone might’ve heard. What if they had? He’s Bookman Junior, he can’t have attachments. Emotions.
There’s no future for the two of you.
That’s what he’s been telling himself non-stop, willing his heart into forgetting the way your eyes closed slightly when you laughed or the way you fidgeted with your hands when ordering your food from Jeryy.
He hears footsteps approaching but pays them little mind, assuming it’s Bookman who’s coming to chastise him for spending his time idly. In the back of his mind he does wonder who’d come all the way out here, to the tower at the southeast corner where nothing or no one really lingers of the Order.
When you clear your throat, he registers the uniform out of the corner of his eye and recognize it immediately to be yours, losing balance from the panic of you being so close without warning. He falls forward and you catch his left arm, laughing airily at him, “be careful.” You tut, as you dust off your thighs and sit down next to him.
“What brings ya here?” he asks, trying to bring a smooth and confident smile to his face but he’s not sure how well he succeeds. You smile and tilt your head in confusion, “to be with you, of course.”
“You came all the way here for me?” he asks, a mix of disbelief and astonishment in his voice. You laugh again and gently take his hand into yours. If you notice the way he flinches at the contact, you don’t say anything as you squeeze it, “obviously, Lavi.”
Silence settles between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. Your hand is still wrapped around his and he tries to will his heart to calm down. He knows the answer deep in his heart, even if he was out here seeking others.
You inhale sharply before you open your mouth, “I know you’re a Bookman in training,” there’s a pause before you turn to face him, “but I’m in love with you. I just wanted you to know that. You can do what you will with that information.”
If Lavi didn’t know you any better, he’d say you were incredibly calm about professing your love to someone but as you reminded him, he’s a Bookman. He’s memorized every tidbit information you’ve ever shown the world and he can see how tense you really are. The sharp line to your mouth, the slightly-but-not-completely furrowed brows, and the determination in your eyes, preparing yourself for rejection.
You’re not as good as Lavi at memorizing details on people, especially the small ones they can barely control themselves but you know that Lavi’s reaction isn’t one of his more controlled, proper ones. His cheeks are dyed red, going all the way down his throat and all the way to the tip of his ears. His mouth is stuck in a tight, wobbly line and his eye is as wide as it can go. You try to hold back a giggle at the man in front of you. You’ve just never seen him so caught off-guard.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, seemingly trying to taste his words before letting them out. A single swear word ends up leaving instead, making you unable to hold back your laughter, leaning forward as you laugh. You abruptly stop when you suddenly feel his hand by your chin, lifting up your head and catching your eyes with his. He’s beautiful like this, you absentmindedly think as you can’t help staring at him like he hung the stars just for you. with a shaky breath he leans forward and you slowly close your eyes as he comes closer.
Your lips collide and he lets out a deep sigh, one that indicates that he’s been thinking about this for just as long and deeply as you have. You press closer to him, and the grip he’s gotten on your uniform jacket tightens, pulling you impossibly closer.
He’ll figure it out. He’ll find his own answers because this, this is what heaven feels like, he decides.
“I grieved you.” you let out, all your emotions clawing their way out of your body in strained convulsions and shaky breaths.
“I know.”
He repeats it, several times as he tries to comfort you with his touch. The hand by his chest is still clenched and it takes monumental effort to release the tension and spread out your fingers. You let them travel up past his collarbone, his throat – taking a pause by his pulse point. You need to feel it with more parts of your body – until it finally reaches his jaw, his cheek. His skin is still as soft as it’s always been, showing no signs of decay.
warnings: spoilers for chapter 247 of the manga, mentions of death and grieving
wordcount: 1.6k
content: angst turns fluff, sfw, hurt/comfort, happy ending, genderneutral reader, bodypositive and poc friendly reader, no use of y/n, canon compliant, not beta’d, ive put reader in as a links lover from before he “passed” and just learning that hes back and alive in the recent chapter so their reunion basically, links makes my brain go brrrr like my freezer after ive taken out an ice cream,
notes: I RUSHED TO WRITE THIS AFTER CHAPTER 247 HELLO?????? DID U SEE ALL LINKS BEAUTIFUL SMILES?!??!?! reader’s role isnt described as neither exorcist or science member or nurse so you choose, honestly i cant say much abt this work except that i just wanted to kiss link.,......... <3 and get this scenario out of my beautiful head bcos it has been ROTATING
When Kanda makes the announcement, you immediately latch onto his choice of words, following his eyes to where they’ve trailed to the window.
And there he shows up. The man you’ve been grieving for months now.
You freeze and air gets hard to breathe. It’s like there’s no oxygen around you as your throat constricts and lungs burn. What? How?
Allen reacts first, opening the door and looking at him. Howard Link’s pose is incredibly relaxed and a smile you rarely saw appear on his face is so casually planted there that you almost want to drag out your weapon to make sure this isn’t an Akuma or some kind of clever disguise puppeteered by Leverrier.
But Allen’s eye doesn’t react. He simply runs to him and you gasp when they almost fall off of the balcony.
You stay behind as they all converge closer to him, your hand still wrapped around the handle of the measly dagger that Tiedoll gave to you when you first joined him going rogue from the Order, “to protect yourself.” He’d said.
You help Tiedoll prepare the food, anything to not be close to him right now as you try to process that he’s there, alive. You’re not sure he saw you before you sneaked to the kitchen but knowing him and his skills, he’s most likely seen you before he even approached on Kanda’s behest.
You don’t look at him all through the food and the talk, staying focused on eating and listening to all the information that Allen is giving out. You flinch at the mention of Link being targeted and killed again, tensing up through your entire spine, swallowing your bite thickly and schooling your expression as best as you’re able.
At his confession you audibly gasp and can’t stop your eyes from looking directly at him before it’s too late. You’re overwhelmed by the radiant smile he gives off. It’s like your heart is beating again for the first time since it stopped beating the day he passed away. He catches your gaze immediately, as if waiting for your eyes to finally look at him. You feel heat in your cheeks as he holds it, though you can tell that he’s not looking at you anymore, but through you.
He's only pulled back when Allen pinches his nose. You can’t help but laugh – their antics back to what they used to be. When food is finished, you make Kanda help you clean up. He huffs and puffs but relents in the end, stacking plates and leftovers expertly in his arms. In the kitchen he grunts at you, “I won’t get involved.” He states and you look at him with question marks in your eyes, head tilted. He pouts at your obliviousness with furrowed brows, “talk to the fuckin’ dog.”
Then he leaves you to dry the last dishes he finished washing, the door closing behind him and leaving you alone for the first time since finding out that Link is very much alive and well.
Your hand clenches around the plate in your hands. You’ve seen four new expressions on his face you’d never been graced with before in the span of an hour. Your eyes can tell that it’s him but your heart wavers. You fear you don’t know the man outside with the face of the man you love.
When you reemerge back in the living room, a hush falls over them all. It’s so obvious that it’s painful and you feel like you’re suffocating. Maybe you are.
Link then gets up from his seat on the floor, dusting off his pants before he clears his throat. He then gathers his courage and looks at you and says your name for the first time. your breath hitches and you can only manage a meekly nod when he nods towards one of the rooms to the sides, his eyes begging for you to go with him and talk.
Allen says something that you don’t catch as you walk in through the door, your hand tracing the door frame before Link closes the door behind you.
None of you say anything for longer than you can count. Your eyes are locked on his chest and how it rises up and down with each breath he takes. They’re leveled and controlled, but they confirm that he’s alive. He’s really here with oxygen in his lungs and a beating heart. Your hands clench into fists by your side.
His breathing pattern changes, telling you he’s about to say something. You bite your underlip and raise your gaze to look directly at him – he flinches but remains posed. Out of your peripheral vision you see his fist clench and unclench, reaching out towards you before retracting again. He then wills himself to relax and smile at you.
This is the fifth expression you’ve never seen on his face. It suits him, but that’s not what you’re focusing on, your eyes locked to the way his lips move, tasting his words before he lets them out in the open.
You can’t take this. Your heart is beating rapidly, your hands and your back is sweaty from the strain of all your emotions and the way you clench your jaw is starting to hurt. In frustration you lift your fist to punch him and as it stands high in the air, you catch his gaze – his smile widens. That stupid, handsome smile. Your hand collides with his chest in a much slower and gentler pace than what you first intended and you instantly feel his body heat traveling to you and you sigh, biting the inner part of your cheek before your head follows your hand towards him and rests on his chest. A sob is threatening to leave you but you inhale deeply instead.
Not many moments pass before he wraps his arms around you, his head resting on the crown of your head. Without embarrassment he noses your head and breathes in your scent, hugging you tighter to him. He seems to relax much more now that you’re touching him.
You’re not. Your spine is locked and you’re rigid in his embrace, refusing to take in the scent of him, the feel of him. He died.
The sob that’s been lodged in your throat since you saw him on the balcony finally breaks free and all the muscles that you’d tensed up spasm before they relax. He coos at you and rubs gentle circles into the small of your back.
You move your head from his chest and towards his neck, your lips ghosting over his pulse point. You’re so close that you can feel it beating against your lips and the first tear roll down your cheek, wetting your lips. If he feels the wetness on his skin, he doesn’t say anything.
You whimper softly before you finally push yourself closer to him, your lips pressing into his skin, arms wrapping around him, clenching his shirt as if your life depended on it.
“I grieved you.” you let out, all your emotions clawing their way out of your body in strained convulsions and shaky breaths.
“I know.”
He repeats it, several times as he tries to comfort you with his touch. The hand by his chest is still clenched and it takes monumental effort to release the tension and spread out your fingers. You let them travel up past his collarbone, his throat – taking a pause by his pulse point. You need to feel it with more parts of your body – until it finally reaches his jaw, his cheek. His skin is still as soft as it’s always been, showing no signs of decay. They’re warm, like the rest of him. He’s always been a furnace. He pulls his head away from the top of yours and finally, finally locks his lips with yours.
Your breath hitches at the moment of contact and you stand frozen, eyes still open to be sure he’s real and doing this. His own eyes are closed and his brow is relaxed. The kiss is featherlight, like he’s unsure if he’s allowed this touch. You close your eyes and relax as much as you’re able. It’s only when you push further into him that he redoubles his efforts and pulls you impossibly closer, a whine escaping his throat as he continues to kiss you.
He’s here, he’s alive and he’s kissing you like it’s the only thing he’s been thinking of since he came back from the dead. You chance a look at him again and see how his brows has furrowed. He’s frustrated he can’t be closer to you than this right now and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from deep within you, a place you’d thought had withered and rotted. Happiness blooms in you as his hands travel up to caress your cheeks.
This is the Howard Link that you knew, you know this now.
It’s just Howard Link without the chains binding him, the one able to express his wants more clearly than when he was shackled and controlled by another will than his own. This is the man that you love, finally able to do what he wants, to love who he wants without the heavy weight of guilt looming over every kiss, every chance meeting at the library, every cake secretly baked with you in mind.
Howard Link feels freer to make his own choices than he’s ever been, and he’s choosing to side with you. You smile into his lips before you run your hand through his hair, messing with his braid. He pulls away and with a breathless chuckle says your name. You hands travel to his nape with a warm smile, "welcome back."
Hello uh….you know exactly what I’m gonna say djdkshdkdhlsnsl aNYWAY do u have. Any kanda relationship hcs 👀👀
hi hey friend !!! ✨ you BETCHA i do! he was my very first love - i have a 162 page long fanfic with him thats oc (me, basically lol) x kanda from when i was 14 and its so very cringe but so very beautiful<3 I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS ABT HIM - i hope you enjoy them and that I do him justice!!! 🥺🧡🧡🧡✨ i feel like i went on a tangent with the confession thing hehe hes just SO PRECIOUS
wordcount: 1.2k (sobs,,, whoops? 🤡)
warnings: none! its fluff and dumbassery <3, genderneutral reader and set in a sort of modern au!
I feel like he's actually the most mature partner out of the main four!
BUT ONLY after you've unlocked level 43 on his romance route<3
He's reserved, in complete denial for a long while after realizing his own feelings and if you dont confess first he wont EVER, he decided.
However much this man has a resolve of steel though, his thoughts about kissing you DO get out of hand for him. He makes the mistake of ranting to Lavi about it, who won't stop teasing him about it.
Lavi accidentally spills the beans to Allen who goes into complete and utter shock - which pisses Kanda off even more because really, does he honestly seem like the type to be SO incapable of a healthy loving relationship at first glance?! (don't answer that!)
So he practices. A Sunday morning he's standing in the bathroom, looking himself in the mirror and trying to confess. He doesn't even get through one sentence though because talking to himself is absolutely ridiculous. 0/10 won't ever happen again!
Surprise! It does happen again, and again and again.... Almost every day at this point, after brushing his teeth.. He practices how to confess to you!
After he's deemed himself prepared he asks to hang out with you - which isn't an unusual occurence, you've been meditating with him for months now after you showed interest in wanting to learn and started hanging out just the two of you afterwards (you just wanted an excuse to be with him, mostly)
Also he is not even the slightest bit insecure on whether or not you'll reject him. Not because he's that confident but honestly? You’re close with him and he feels like he can read you like an open book. He’s not blind to the way your eyes linger on his lips (at least not blind anymore....)
"Are you having a stroke?" Alma asked when he walked past Kanda on the couch one day as he was holding back a blush and a smile from reading one of your stupid texts again, "shut up, Alma".
So when the day comes he’s taking you to the meditation room, setting up with you and sitting down next to you. He keeps stealing glances and holding back a smile, knowing what’s about to happen (he gets to try and finally kiss your lips)
He honestly thought of something bigger but he wanted it to be about the two of you. So when you’re both seated and positioned correctly he breathes out an “I’m in love with you, you know.”
He keeps his eyes closed but he hears the way your breath hitches, hears the way you move around your mat and nears him and he’s actively fighting back a blush when he can almost feel your breath on his cheek. He opens his eyes to see you staring right into his, “what the fuck kind of confession is that!?” you ask, almost enraged by the casualty of it - if his words hadn’t been so... heavy, you would’ve thought he was joking. You still fear he is, “don’t mess with me!”
His face scrunches up at your reaction and he’s confused for a solid moment, unsure why you’re mad at him. “You don’t like me back?” he asks, almost confused and brows furrowed. You flop back on the mat with a sigh and even wider eyes, “you’re serious?” you ask again and he leans closer to you, his heartbeat quickening. He lets the blush he was fighting to hold back earlier loose as he gets on his knees to crawl to you, “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
His hand travels to your cheek and he gently touches it with his thumb, “can I kiss you?”
You stare at him, dumbfounded and gather your strength to nod and lean toward him.
He’s a very gentle kisser! He’s aware of how rough he can be around the edges and wants to be the opposite with you
He doesn’t act like you’re made of glass, though! He will still kick your ass if you train with him! He sees you as a perfect equal and while he won’t admit to it, he likes seeing you riled up - especially if it’s because of him and silly things. If you’re ever sad or frustrated he will support you, though!
His toxic trait is jealousy... I’m sorry but this man is JEALOUS. He’s not possessive per say, but he will glare daggers at the person behind the counter at the supermarket who even remotely sounds like they’re flirting with you. His glare is scary for others to experience. You always smile apologetically to the poor cashier before you leave.
Kanda CARES so much about anniversaries! They’re very important to him - he remembers the days for your first kiss, your first (real) date, first time he slept over as your boyfriend and the day you moved in together. He even wants to celebrate the day he realized he was in love with you!! He’s so precious, he writes them down in both his own calender, yours and the joint one in the kitchen.
Kanda’s love language number 1 is physical touch. His favorite dates are when you’re sprawled out on the couch or the bed, completely entangled in each other, he’s like a cat. It took him a while to admit and even longer to start asking for it but he absolutely adores when you’re fingers rests on his hip, moving in mindless circles as you’re watching yet another film he hates
(”we can turn it off if you hate it so much,” you mutter after the second negative comment about the composition and camera positions (when did he become an expert in move making?) You feel his grip tighten on you, “never.” he mutters as he kisses the top of your head) You guess you’ll never figure out why he enjoys “torturing his eyes with such imagery” every weekend but you don’t complain. His gruff voice close to your ear and the expert cuddles makes up for it.
Kanda also has a soft spot for matching couple outfits.... Nothing wild, just matching sweaters or color coordination! He’s super embarassed about it at first though, grumbles through the entire Christmas dinner where you’re matching but can’t hold back the need to match again at New Year’s! It starts a whole thing for him.
Kanda snores. Loudly. I’m sorry but you can’t convince me otherwise. In the beginning it’s a whole “deal with it!” kind of situation but behind the scenes he’s researching how to help it - he buys one of those nose clips and even tries the anti-snoring nose sprays!
His first priority will forever always be your safety and happiness. So whenever you have arguments that take a stronger turn than friendly bickering, he sits you both down to talk it out and figure out what to do with any problems you might encounter! He doesn’t sacrifice his own principles for you and he expects you to hold to your own as well! That will cause clashes and fights once in a while, but he’ll always be there to hold you when it’s all said and done.
After all, there’s nothing he enjoys more than waking up for his morning workout 15-20 minutes before he has to only to look at you, peacefully asleep next to him, grumbling about the morning sun as you try to crawl into his skin to be closer. It’s home, it’s the love he lives for and there’s nothing better after any rough day than coming back and going to bed with you so he can experience these magical minutes the next morning, right?
I RLY HOPE I DID HIM JUSTICE... I MAY HAVE MADE HIM SOFTER THAN HE WOULDVE LIKED IF HE EVER READ THIS LMFAAAO but honestly..... emotionally mature kanda lives rent free in my mind!!! 👀 aaaa i wanna kiss him so bad rn 🫣 THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING HIM!!! its about time i made smth for him!!!! 😩🧡🧡 lmk if you want more !!! or a tiny fic mayhaps................ 👀
please you're hanging out at allen's place having a sleep-over but he's too cheap to turn on the heat so you insist on cuddling under his covers and he is so stiff, so nervous and the man is blushing down to his ass. when you sneak a hand under his shirt to tease him and let him feel their astoundingly cold temperature you expect him to screech and reprimand you but instead he stiffens impossibly further, making you pull away to check if he's okay and if you've crossed a line. he smiles awkwardly and tries to mirror you with hands on you. you furrow your brows and asks again if he's okay. "i promise! its just..." he trails off, pointedly looking away from you. "just what?" you ask, afraid you actually might've hurt your crush and friend. he chuckles before he faces you head-on, "i'm not used to physical contact.. but it's nice, being this close with you."
you know that admittance hasnt come freely or easily so you spare him the embarassment by simply smiling and repositioning your hands on his waist with a reassuring squeeze, "then relax, i like being close to you too, you know."
he's no less stiffer than he was before because now you've cuddled up with your face hidden in his neck. he can feel your soft breath directly on his skin and he mentally apologizes for the way he's judged bak for getting hives. he thinks he might get them soon, too.
Hey so how do you think Allen Walker would deal with having a s/o who isn’t even stunned by his dark side when it comes out for first time and they find it funny and are more “ You’re usually sweet and innocent all the time, that I figured you had to be hiding something. I’ve never seen you angry”?
"Whatcha mean yer thought I was hiding somethin'?" he asks, unsure of how he feels about that fact and completely unable to stay polite and proper in his surprise. He winces and schools his expression and thoughts, "I mean, I just don't have that many things to be angry about, I suppose?"
The strained laugh he lets out makes you wince back at him, your grimace telling him he can't win with that one. You grab his hand - his ugly one and Allen feels like he’s flinching enough for the both of you since you barely even react when touching him so casually. You caress the back of the hand gently and give him a warm smile, “you can take your time showing me all of you,” before he’s about to say something, you huff out a laugh and continue, “though I do admit, you telling off the owner of that restaurant for us was really amazing! You’re so interesting for sure.”
Allen fights to have his face remain neutral upon the display in front of him. The laugh that’s bubbling out of your chest at the end of your sentence is so warm, bursting at the seams to explode in front of him and color him in your fantastic and vibrant shades. His other hand travels to hide the blush rising from his cheeks all the way up to his ears as he lets out a laugh himself, though it is a lot more muted than yours. He relaxes his shoulders and properly grabs onto the hand still caressing his knuckles, returning a smile he hopes brings you as much as warmth, as yours does for him.
He wants to overthink all of this, wants to sink into his fears and distance himself from you to hide the misstep but your casual and accepting nature lets him put down his guard. He’ll try harder to hide his dark side from you for a while yet but a seed of acceptance has been sown in the darkest parts of him and soon enough it’ll illuminate more than he can even imagine. It’s not okay for him to show you all of him, but it will be.
He’s afraid to admit it, but he looks forward to it.
