belle

20s • she/her • side blog

[thebellearchives]

belle 🦇 she/her

writer/artist

welcome to belle’s archive, grab a book, take a seat and enjoy the read

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 —

📍221B Baker Street

🔗 https://spotify.link/BZd0S2rl9Db

tag guide • rules

ageless, minors and blank blogs will be blocked

main : saturnvamp [abandoned]

♡ inbox always open ♡

|| @𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰 : please do not repost or translate any of my work

[toastmist]

frat inumaki by @/powderedviolets on tiktok! WE FINALLY WONNNNNN

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

@thebellearchives OMG LOOOOOOK AT THEMMMMM

[thebellearchives]

MY MANNNN ONG THE RENDERING I COULD EAT THIS FANART FR

[brynn-schyler]

pretty man

[hollycircling]

poor eriks...

[lumen---sky]

[lyra-weis]

[artmopworks]

Their fanbase would be absolutely feral

[thebellearchives]

sigh i’ve been in my Levi Ackerman era for like a month now

[thebellearchives]

haha… it’s been three years 🥶

[thebellearchives]

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

Hello friends, it’s been a long time since i opened reqs! I’ve also been kind of inactive… but if you’re still around thank you sm 🫶🏻

I’m opening reqs again and the context issss: recently I quit my job (that sucked btw ugh) and then lost a bunch of money in an attempt to immigrate to the other side of the world lol rip (I’ll keep trying resilience is key, trust ✨) but for now I’m looking for a job and in the meantime I need a way to support myself a little bit.

I decided to go back to writing, I went through a massive writers block and then I just didn’t have any motivation and then I had no time 😭… but I figured it was time to stop with the excuses and pick up this passion of mine again 🫶🏻

So now, let’s talk about the writing!

Fandoms I’ll be writing for:

Jujutsu Kaisen ; Trigun ; Attack on Titan ; Gachiakuta ; Kaiju N8 ; Windbreaker

I always write my fics thinking of anime only people so no spoilers please!

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

I’ll be doing fluff, angst and smut.

First off let’s start with the reader. As always I personally write fem!reader and gn!reader. If you want a fem!reader please specify, otherwise i will default to gn!reader.

Rules for angst: genuinely depends a lot on the subject (no worries we can discuss in dms anytime) but nothing too dark such as self harm, suicide, SA or that kind of content. Depending on the subject I might have it implied somewhere.

Rules for nsfw: First off, I won’t accept nsfw requests if you’re underage or don’t have your age in your bio. I won’t tell you to put your age in your bio or ask for your age in the dms i will simply block you, there’s a reason why i have “ageless, minors and blank blogs will be blocked” in my pinned.

Some of the content i won’t include in my writings are step/pseudo/incest, ageplay, A/b/o or monsterfucking, scat/vomit/watersports, CNC, pregnancy etc. List is probably incomplete but if you’re not sure you can still DM me!

If there’s any other special situations I haven’t listed that will cause me to reject a commission I’ll discuss it through DMs

𝐏𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

Finally, price and everything else, my comms will be $10 each + $0.30 for the paypal commission, usually my writings go anywhere from 1k to 2.5k, you can check my masterlist for a rough idea! I’ll only be accepting payments through Paypal, I will only give you the account once i have accepted your commission and will begin writing when the payment is done. If at a certain point i have several commissions then i will provide waiting list. The paypal account is not mine so please do not try to contact my friend! I do not have a personal paypal account, please always DM me through Tumblr.

Finally, thank you so much for reading my works! I’m happy to share with you 🖤 from now on all my commissions or posts related to them will be under the tag “; the public archive” and I’ll also tag under it previous reqs i have written for anons and friends 🫶🏻

~ Belle

[thebellearchives]

Zanja Zanka Zanka Enjin Zanka Zanka Zanka Enjin Zanka Zanka

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

And Then I Met You 𓂃𓈒 ꨄ︎

Series Masterlist • Previous Page

Series Tags • strangers to lovers • slowburn • neighbors au • hurt/comfort • fluff & smut • Chapter Tags Smut - Explicit Sex - Minors DNI fluff & smut, emotional smut, unprotected sex, first time, mouth fucking (m!rec) grinding/dry humping, hand fucking, multiple sex positions, idiots in LOVE Word Count: 7.9k a/n: Its still technically Saturday im not late!! WERE HERE WERE FINALLY HERE. THE LAST CHAPTER. 40k words and 4 months of writing later. I do have an idea planned for a fluffy and smutty slice of life established relationship but that might be months later bc ya girl needs a break. If you've been here since chapter 1, ilysm and im kissing you<3 enjoy!

Inumaki was nervous. 

More nervous than he had ever been in his life. Now that he was sitting in the brightly lit sanitized environment of the school's infirmary– freshly patched up via Shoko, he finds himself pacing back and forth in the room waiting for your return. After Gojo’s swift return and clean up he ushered everyone away back to the school and got separated from you as soon as they hit the infirmary. He protested it furiously but Gojo had held his trademark playfully amused personality as he ushered you away, telling Inumaki not to worry because they were simply going to have ‘a conversation’ and nothing more. But he knew. He knew what that conversation would entail. He just hoped it wouldn’t break you.

It’s all his fault. That’s all he can think as he's pulling his hair out and taking his frustration out on the nearest tray of medical utensils that clutter loudly against the tile floor. Why did he have to go and be selfish and talk to you? You were too good for this world and he went and inserted himself into your life anyway. By now you were probably having an existential crisis and wanted nothing to do with him, every intrusive thought and nightmare he had was suddenly coming to life before his eyes  and he had no way to possibly stop it–

The sound of the heavy door clicks open and two pairs of footsteps echo past the threshold. 

“Well, well, I hope Shoko has treated you well. I have your little friend here and she’s only slightly having a crisis.” Gojo speaks easily, taking an amused stance that rubs him the wrong way. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve given her the entire run down– including your curse technique. She's all up to date!” Gojo finishes his sentence with flourished hands if he was presenting a shiny new toy and not a life changing moment.

The past hour has gone by in a flash, if you were asked to recall it, you would only be able to provide bits and pieces like a fever dream that played on  loop; disappearing with only a taste of the pieces on your tongue when you woke. But regardless, all you can focus on his the scene of Inumaki in front of you; he’s wearing the same slacks from this evening, but he's shirtless and has a bright white gauze pad that wraps around his broad torso and up against his shoulder, with a patch of deep brownish red with a center of bright vermillion that tells you he had a shoulder wound with blood was that already drying.

This entire time, there was a whisper of a thought that he was avoiding you after the past weekend's tense moments, but now you understand the circumstances, and see his panicked expression as he rushes to embrace you, it tells you that everything you thought over the past three days was a lie. He wasn’t avoiding you, he was fighting for his life. 

When he clutches you and you feel the warmth of his body press against your own, your knees buck and he follows you to the cold tile ground, still embracing you tightly. A wave of emotion threatens to spill over your lash line.

“Inumaki…” There’s no stopping the hot brine that spills over your cheeks.

But what catches your attention is a soft, gravelled foreign voice that floats into your ears in a whisper, a prayer offering for forgiveness. If his lips weren't pressed against the shell of your ear you wouldn't be able to hear it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

There’s a tickling sensation that tickles the fine hair of your eardrums that reverberates down your spine, like a current of electricity that had no circuit to power. It didn’t hurt you in the slightest but lighted your body with a warm thrum that you couldn’t exactly place. It was like you craved to do something but didn’t have an instruction to decipher what it is you wanted to do. 

“It’s okay.” There wasn't something you needed to forgive him for perse, except for maybe the lack of communication.

But you didn’t even hold that against him now that you were thinking about it. All that you knew was that he needed this, it felt like he was apologizing for everything over the course of his life, confessing sins of past you weren't even aware of. But you felt in your bones that he needed that forgiveness– and you were eager to absolve him. 

“What a happy ending! Love those!” Gojo’s irritating voice kills the mood swiftly as you both glare at him.

“Don’t look at me like that! Happy endings hardly happen in our line of business. Can you blame me for celebrating?”

“Is it that simple?” You cut the end of Gojo’s sentence off with a harsh question. You were old enough by now to know that not everything was so cut and dry. When Gojo tips his head in confusion you continue. 

“I mean, I just stumbled onto what I feel like is a huge government secret. Am I going to have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder?”

Gojo stands at full height and tips his head to the sky with a thoughtful hum.

“If this had been 10 years ago… The higher up would have killed you.”

Horror freezes your veins and sends a shiver down your spine. Gojo’s once serious expression morphs into a delirious smile as he bends at the waist and pulls half of his blind fold down to peer down at you with one eye, his aquamarine iris shining with something darkly amused. 

“But you don’t have to worry about that! I killed them all.”

His tone is light an airy, as if he just cracked a joke at a party, but something about the twitch in his eye tells you he was dead serious. Inumaki, who is sensing your mass discomfort– because he’s just now realizing you’re not as desensitized to Gojo-antics as the rest of them– cuts in and scolds him in his own signature way. Gojo accepts it with a playful wave as he returns to his regular aloof demeanor. 

“Anyway,” Gojo turns heel to head toward the door, shoving his hands in his pockets, he pauses and looks over his shoulder briefly. Even though his eyes are covered you can sense he’s looking at you. “Be easy on my dear student. I know it’s a lot to take in, but we all have our scars.”

And with that, the metallic door slams shut. A thick, unnamed tension fills the room as the both of you stand at an impasse, your leg twitches with anxiousness to break the tension, but Inumaki beats you to it. You can feel his hand on your shoulder as you turn to him. He’s looking at you with an immense amount of guilt, it’s written all over his face. He shuffles a bit in place and casts his eyes down to the floor, muscle memory takes over and he moves his hand to hover in front of his mouth like he was trying to adjust a non-existent scarf. 

It’s nearly impossible to bite back the laugh that dares escape your throat at his expense. And his pout is even cuter, you’re almost mad that you were robbed of it for so long. You gently take his hand and place it back at his side, lingering just a moment to savor the touch of his skin. 

“You’ve hid from me long enough. In more ways than one.” 

Right. He knew exactly what you meant.

What could he possibly say? He couldn't even say anything! The immense hurdle he’s been branded with since birth has once again bit him in the ass, except the stakes are too high for his own good; a crumbling cliff with no end in sight as pieces of rock fall off and disappear into the abyss–

“Hey. You don’t get to be in your head like that when I’ve spent the past who knows how many days in an even deeper hole.” You stand tall and look him straight in the eye. You were tired of all the self minimizing. 

“I know now it wasn’t your fault, and extenuating circumstances normally would have made it impossible for me to know. But I know now. Even if I don’t understand it fully.”

He doesn’t say anything, only interlaces his fingers with yours and leaves them there, rubbing small circles into the back of your hand with his thumb. He was comforting you.

“I think I’m owed an explanation. On everything. I thought–” You pause to prevent tears from spilling over, not knowing exactly why you felt so embarrassed admitting what you were about to, huffing a bitter laugh to cope before continuing. “I didn’t want to admit it to myself but I thought that night maybe I had scared you off and you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

Inumaki freezes, his eyes wide in a fear state at your admission. Is the room spinning? No, no, no– that was never what he attended. He’s realizing now keeping you in the dark and a half arms length away wasn’t to protect you at all like he told himself. It was to protect himself, and in that he had inadvertently hurt you. 

He grips your shoulders tight as if his very own life depended on it. 

“O-okaka!” 

Before you can interject he’s spinning around in a panic searching for his phone. Once he finds it he presents it to you with a wave and desperation in his eyes, pleading wordlessly to explain everything. You sit on one of the patient beds you two were standing next to and gesture for him to continue, seeing the relief wash over his tensed shoulders as he relaxes and sits next you, typing away with quick fingers. 

And talk is what you did. For how long you’re unsure of, but he apologized profusely for everything, and admitted his reasonings why– even making side notes on why he knew now in hindsight it was hurtful– and apologized again. He told you of the full scope of his curse technique, and what had happened when he made his abrupt exit those days ago. When he told you that you yourself had a low grade curse hanging over your head and how it was most likely his fault, you had to calm him down, although it did give you a new perspective on how drained you had felt back then. 

He told you more about his school days and the good and the bad, and the worst including Shibuya. And then you admitted how you spent hours in the afternoon searching through archives of any information on his school before just giving up and searching the closest area for an hour until you were lost in the woods and found him at the world's worst time. He wasn’t even mad, in fact he was impressed, if not a bit shocked at your apparent lack of survival instincts.

When Inumaki looks up at you he sees you staring back at him with an unreadable expression. He tilts his head with a question. 

“Sorry–” You shake your head to gain your bearings as all the new information you’ve received is processed. “It’s just. I’m amazed at how you still have such a kind soul in such a cruel world.”

Your phone buzzes and you read his next message.

It’s harder to be cruel than kind. But I used to be more selfish.

“Used to? What changed?”

And then I met you, he thinks.

Before Inumaki has the chance to reply, the sound of the door creaks open and the doctor from earlier walks in, she wears heavy make up and has long brunette hair, always with a cigarette in her mouth, which is a bit ironic considering her profession.

“How are you two doing? More so you I’m worried about. I once had to attach Inumaki’s arm back. So I know he’s fine.” Shoko mentions offhandedly. What?!

“Salmon!” Inumaki gives a thumbs up, while all you can do is stare with your jaw on the floor.

“Good.” Shoko replies. “It’s getting late, I can call Ichiji to give you both a ride home, or you can stay in the dorms.” When you and Inumaki exchange glances, he texts you.

Fish 4 brains - 1 min ago

Let's go home:)

—--- ♡ —---

The car ride goes by faster than you’d thought, but then again it seems like the entire night was a fever dream. You both rode in the back seat while Inumaki kept a comforting hand on your leg while the worrisome driver talked about something you were only paying half attention to, but he seemed sweet nonetheless. He opens the door when you arrive at your shared apartment building and bids farewell before disappearing into the late night, and there’s something healing about the way there’s once again two pairs of footsteps that make their way up the stairs. 

“You must be hungry.” You doubt he’s eaten anything over the past few days. 

Right on cue Inumaki’s stomach churns and growls loudly. He rubs at the source of the noise and agrees. But he points at his wrist to indicate how late it was.

“You need to eat. And you’re too beat up to cook anything, come on. Let me take care of you.” You finalize while unlocking your apartment door and shoving him in. He wasn’t getting away from you this time. 

What catches your attention is how she smiles at you, one corner of his lip stretching to his cheek while shiny teeth peek underneath his pink lips. The dark swirls and lines that adorn his mouth twist with the motion and you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest. Oh no, he’s hot.

Something ignites in Inumaki’s chest, something warm and crackling that blooms and burns brighter with each passing second. He never thought someone could look at him the way you are now, and he’s beginning to wonder why he hid from you at all. You must have noticed how he was looking you up and down because you're clearing your throat and turning heel quickly to disappear into the kitchen muttering a short ‘anyway– ill get started.’ And wait, did he fluster you?

Oh, he could get used to this.

“It’ll be quick.” You say over your shoulder. “Somthing simple and hearty so you don’t have to wait too long.”

You can feel the warmth of Inumaki's chest radiating off your backside when he sneaks with quiet footsteps and peers over your shoulder, intently watching the stove, he rests his hand on the counter top next to you, nearly half-caging you next to him. You’re about to combust but you see the way his eyes fixate on the pan and how he’s nearly drooling, the sight makes you laugh.

“I know, I know, I’m being as quick as I can! Go set the table while you wait to keep yourself busy.”

“Tsuna mayo.” He mutters softly before giving you a quick side hug which tickles butterflies in your stomach, only wishing the contact lasted just a bit longer. 

He makes himself busy setting the table with a simple set up for two people and hands you a few dishes to fill. Once the plates are set you hand him one and go to make your way to the living room, but you notice the kitchen table is set. Oh. Right. You were so used to eating or drinking with him back to back, it was your little routine to compromise with him, but there was no need for that now. 

“Musatd leaf?” Inumaki asks softly, wondering if maybe he did something wrong.

“Hm? No, I just–” You smile at him. “I was just thinking this is our first meal where we can sit across from one another. It’s exciting! I’m totally gonna gawk at you”

Inumaki can’t help himself, he reaches over to pinch your cheek, and you’d lie to yourself if you said you didn’t miss the gesture, leaning into it. As you two sit down to eat you try your best to keep your eyes on your food and not gawk at him too much, allowing yourself a peek here and there as he scarfs down his food. 

“Mm. Tusna mayo.” Inumaki mutters with a mouthful.

“Good, is it?” You ask warmly when Inumaki pauses and smiles at you with wide stuffed cheeks.

When the food is finished, you gather the dishes and shoo him away to relax, he needed it, you knew that. While you weren’t aware of what exactly happened inside that monster– or curse, as Gojo explained it, you know he was somewhat trapped in it with Yuuji for days on end. And it was starting to show, noticing the dark shades of bruise under his eyes from lack of sleep. That must have been awful, how does someone fight for their life that long?

“Hey Inumaki?” You call his attention and he looks at you. “That… thing. Gojo tried to explain it to me but it made my head spin. You and Yuuji were in it for three days right?”

He nods. 

“Are you.. Are you okay? I mean– When I found you I saw you two fighting and saw that thing hit you in the shoulder but– three days? Do you– do you need anything? How do you go that long without sleeping or eating.. Is that like… a curse energy… thing?” 

God, you felt so stupid trying to piece together a coherent question and understand this new world of horror. It was all so confusing, it made you feel like a highschooler trying to repeat a lecture from an astrophysicist. 

He’s amusedyour floundering, pulling out his phone to send a quick message, trying his best to simplify everything to make it more understandable. 

Fish 4 brains 12:27 am

I’m fine I promise:) I’ve been worse for wear before. As for the curse well… for those kinds that have that kind of power they sort of bend time. 

Thought we were in there for a few hours NOT  a few days. I just about died when my phone updated and I saw how much time had passed.

He paused a moment to think over if he wanted to admit the next thing, but he decided to let the secret spill from his heart.

Fish 4 brains 12:28 am

I thought about you the whole time and when I got out I tried to text you back but uhhhhhhh it didnt really work out

“Oh my God.” You don’t even know how to reply to that but it makes you feel good that he thought about you as much as you did him. Maybe your crash out and stalking him earlier in the evening wasn’t so bad. Justified, even. Totally. 

You spot him giving himself a once over with a few quick sniffs and grabbing his hair.

“Do you want to take a shower? You’re welcome to everything there. I have some nice body washes, body scrubs, shampoo, conditioners, face wash..” Your eyes meet the ceiling as you count your fingers and recall your stock. 

When you finish, you can see he’s looking at you with a fond smile while he rests his head in his hand like a love struck fool, and oh fuck, he has to stop looking at you like that otherwise you’re going to fold hard and do something drastic.

“Tuna?” He points toward the direction of your bathroom as if he’s double checking the directions.

“Yeah! Make yourself at home. Do you need me to fetch you clean clothes from across the hall or anything?” 

It felt silly asking since he could just go across the hall and shower in his own home, but you don’t want him to leave. And surprisingly he agrees, telling you through text that the door was unlocked due to his emergency departure– which you knew from your earlier antics, and to grab him anything soft and comfy. So while he goes down the hall to warm the water you make quick work of running across the hall into his bedroom to find his closet and pick a pair of joggers and loose t-shirt. You’re about to return when a thought passes you. Did he need underwear? Surely he did, but that would be weird to rifle through his stuff to find a clean pair, right? Maybe you should turn back but it feels weird to give him clean clothes and not the whole package, you yourself would be annoyed and feel gross wearing the same undergarments with clean clothes.

Ugh, you were overthinking this too much, but suddenly you realize something. You had great leverage. If he teases you about going through his underwear drawer you could just guilt trip him about the past events and your existential crash-course reckoning with how the world truly was. A devious smile stretches across your lips as you tip toe back to his room and infiltrate his drawers. Once you find what you need you fold everything neatly– of course layering the boxer-briefs in between the joggers and shirt so they were hidden away– before making your way back across the hall. Once you're back in your apartment you hear the sound of running water and knock softly against the bathroom door, surprised when the door swings open a second later and a shirtless Inumaki greets you, his bandages are still worn and you wonder if maybe you should of grabbed some fresh ones, you’re sure you have a first aid kit somewhere.

“I hope this is good enough.” You hand him the folded stack of clothes while he smiles with thanks and turns around to set them on the bathroom counter. 

“I can find some more gauze, do you need to change your bandage?”

“Okaka.” Inumaki reaches behind his back to untie the knotted gauze before unwrapping it from his chest and back.

Your breath catches when you see the way his biceps flex and bow with the movement, the way his collar bones and pecs move under his skin, the way you can see his entire torso and all its corded muscles on full display. Your throat bobs as you dryly swallow and try to focus and keep yourself from climbing this goddamn man like a tree.

“Tuna.” He points at the divot in his shoulder. 

There's a small, angry pink divot of scarred flesh that sits in the hollow space. You saw him get that wound only hours ago, how the hell was it already scarred over? It looked like it was already 2 weeks healed, you wonder if maybe that doctor, Shoko, had an otherworldly healing ability. 

“O-okay. Well, just let me know if you need anything.” You turn away quickly to let him have some space– or maybe it was you who needed space.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the rest of the kitchen, cursing silently when a few stray dishes slip between your fingers and clatter against the sink when your mind drifts off back to the image of a shirtless, maskless Inumaki. Goddamnit, why did he have to be so devilishly handsome? But then you start to wonder if he would make his way back home after he was done showering. You hadn’t exactly planned for him to spend the night, all you knew is you wanted him to linger around a bit longer to make up for lost time, but it was already pushing 1am the next day. Thank God Yume offered to cover your shift for tomorrow… or, today actually. 

Maybe you should set a futon out in the living room. Just in case. Would that be weird? Well, he was literally right across the hall. There was nothing stopping him from walking the short distance to go home. And he needed a bed, after all he went through– well he could sleep in my bed, the thought passes your head quicker than you can catch it. Shit, what am I even thinking about? 

After pacing the open space a few times and scrubbing your eyes with frustrated knuckles you decide to compromise with yourself and offer Inumaki to stay, preparing to tell him to take the bed while you sleep on the couch and that you will check his injury and make breakfast in the morning. An easy excuse to coax him to stay. As you pace you notice his phone sitting on the kitchen table. He must have forgotten about it. Surely he needs it, you bargain, it’s half of his communication, but what would be a good time to give it to him?

As if on cue, you hear the sound of rushing water come to a halt. Well, that’s divine timing if you knew it. Unaware of it, your feet carry you to the source of silence, but halfway through you realize you should give him a moment of privacy, so you decide to only call his name softly from the hall and let him know you were putting his possession in a safe space for when he’s done in the bathroom. But as soon as you call his name, the door swings open. 

He stands in the doorway with one hand on his head drying his damp hair with a towel, he’s wearing the joggers you provided which lazily hugging under his hips with the fresh pair of boxer briefs peeking past the thick material and kissing his hip bones. There's still stray water droplets that cling to his collar bones and spill over the valleys of his pecs and down his stomach and you try your best not to follow the trail with your eyes. 

“Mustard leaf?” He asks softly while holding your gaze. 

“I uhhh… found your phone.” Inumaki’s eyes drift down to your hands before coming back up to look at your face. The silence gnaws at the nips of your heels. 

“I’ll just uh, put it on the sink.” You duck past him to enter the bathroom and set it on the sink.

You clear your throat to offer him your mentally rehearsed offering. 

“It’s really late, so if you want to stay, you can take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch. You need someone to watch your wound and I’ll also make breakfast because I know you’ve been malnourished as hell– actually, scratch that, you’ll stay here until I know you get better–”

Your rambling is cut short as Inumaki crosses the threshold with an easy two strides until you're pressed against the counter. He sets his hand on the sink and cranes his head to look down at you slightly, and from the close distance you can really see all the details in his face. The way his half-dried hair clings to his temples, the flush on his cheeks from the hot water, the way his curse marks hug his lips as he smiles softly. And his eyes, god his eyes, with his stupidly long eyelashes that sweep over his pretty eyes. As if his face wasn’t distraction enough, you could feel the warmth of his chest radiate against your body through your shirt, but that was an afterthought as you stared at his lips, the course of his mystery over the time you knew him– you still weren't used to it

Your fingers itch to touch the marks that kissed his cheeks, holding shaky fingers out slowly almost as if to warm him preemptively what you wanted to do. Inumaki moves back minutely as his eyes track the movements, but quickly relaxes to let you explore. He leans into your touch and lets you freely trace the marks, his face hovering inches over yours. He doesn’t dare make a move, Inumaki is not willing to risk ruining the moment and having you move away from him. 

“You know, I always wondered why you always hid half of your face.” Your thumb caresses his cheek and circles the inky black dot. “I wondered if maybe you were scared or something– not that it would have been an issue for me! But no. You just have some strange… Tattoos? Hiding a handsome face away for nothing.”

You thought he was handsome?

“Tell me, do you have any other secrets I should know about?” 

Inumaki’s eyes idly scan at nothing while he thinks, although it was just for show, he already decided to show the full extent of his curse marks. His lips part to let his tongue roll past his teeth to display the dark circle caging marked fangs against his tongue. 

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

Your eyes pinpoint the mark that shines against the pink muscle. It beckoned you closer, a normal person wouldn't be so eager to touch another tongue but you couldn't help your curiosity. Slowly, you reach out to press your thumb against the wet muscle, and your body lights up with a low thrum that buzzes from your arm down into your spine and fills your body with something you’ve never felt before. It didn’t hurt, but it made you feel tingly all over, like TV static. It made you feel like you wanted to do something, but unsure of what, like being held to a command written in a language you didn’t understand. Wait, you felt this before, back earlier when he whispered normal words into your ear. Inumaki must have noticed your shock, because he rests his palm idly on your hip and gives it a firm squeeze to catch your attention.

“Hm? Oh I uh…” You try to look away to hide your embarrassment, but Inumaki's bent index finger catches your chin and directs your attention back to him. Okay, when did he get so forward?? Not that you were complaining. 

“I just… I felt something– when I touched the mark on your tongue. It was–” You catch his panicked expression.

“No! It didn’t hurt me! In fact it felt… good? Weirdly good? It was like a low hum. I think maybe... I can feel your curse… power? Or whatever it is through that mark.”

Inumaki is surprised by the new development. It’s a new fact to him, since he’s never had another person be so intimate with him. But he sees the way your eyes blow wide and drift off into… lust? Are you smiling? What are you thinking abou– oh. He thinks he knows. He pulls you closer, his ego that once shriveled away with the cold was now burning bright and flaming with your attention, giving him a new confidence. He plants his other hand against the sink to effectively cage you against him as he smirks down at you and presses himself against your body with a flirtatious question in his eyes. Yeah? You like it?

You can feel the round, cold ceramic press against the small of your back as you try to move away from his predatory gaze. 

“Whoa– hey. Don’t get so full of yourself you bastard!” You try to wriggle out of his grasp– and you do, successfully. He doesn't try to pin you in place, in fact he leaves room for you to duck under his arm and back out of the bathroom. 

But he follows you, matching your back steps with his forward steps and you both cross the small hallway into your bedroom. His eyes are focused onto you and only you as he moves forward. 

“I wasn't thinking anything of it! It was just an observation!” 

You desperately argue with him, ignoring the fact that you just incriminated yourself. You keep backing away until the back of your knees hits your mattress and you fall onto it, Inumaki now looms over you with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You're insufferable.” You say with zero venom. He crawls over you and plants a knee on the mattress.

“Salmon?”

“Yeah…” Your chin tips up to meet his lips which hover a breadth above your own as his hands plant on the mattress next to your head.

“Mentaiko.” Then do something about it. His neck cranes to brush his nose against yours and leave room to back out.

You can see his hair brush around his temples and the muscles around his shoulders flex as  leans above you, his knee presses into the space between your legs and all you can think about is how bad you want him against you. Without thought your fingers find their way to brush over his collar bones and hook onto the muscle between his shoulder neck to pull him closer

“Inumaki…” You whisper, but there's a hint of a question in his name, as if to ask him permission. 

A permission that he grants instantly as his lips crash against yours. 

Bliss fills your veins and prickles your skin as every hair stands at his attention. His lips are soft and warm against your own, they slot perfectly against each other as if they were two missing puzzle pieces finally put together. You sigh with the contact, relishing it as his hand moves from the mattress to caress the sides of your jaw, eagerly pressing against his body when he sinks lower onto you. He kisses you deeply and desperately making sure no spot on your lips were untouched. The room begins to spin when his tongue swipes the bottom of your lip to ask permission to part them, and when you grant him permission and feel his tongue lap against your own, your body alights with that low hum, making you feel like you were ascending into Elysium. 

Your hands begin to explore his back, running between his shoulder blades and following the curve of his spine before parting ways and circling his iliac crest, thumb pressing eagerly into his hips bones and moaning when he rolls his hips into you at the motion. 

“Fuck- Inumaki– You whimper.

Inumaki briefly parts his lips from yours and looks at you with lust blown eyes. He wanted to hear you moan his name again. It was the sweetest sound that ever graced his ears and he would do anything to hear it again, over and over again. He grabs your jaw with one hand to dive back in and taste your tongue again as he rolls his hips deeply with a slow, lazy rhythm. Fuck, he knew he needed to slow down before he lost himself in the pleasure too early but you felt so good against him he could hardly contain himself.  So he busies himself with running a free hand up your waist under your shirt and onto your breasts, begging silently to remove the offending article of cotton. He’s worried for a split second when your hand presses against his chest to part him from your lips, but relief soon follows when he sees it was to remove the shirt and bra to expose your chest to him. 

Inumaki interlaces his fingers with yours and moves them to pin them in place above your head while he continues pressing languid kisses against your neck, trailing down your collar bones and onto your breasts, letting his tongue rest against your nipple to let his cursed energy vibrate against the sensitive bud– and fuck, he loves the way you melt under his touch and grind your hips against his pelvis with the sensation. He can feel your slick begin to coat him and it drives him into a feral state. 

“Right there.” You whimper, prompting a low groan from him when he hears how good he’s making you feel. What a pretty sound, you want to hear it more.

You free one hand from his grasp and run it underside his torso, feeling the soft dips and ridges of his chest and abdomen until you feel the cotton of his joggers and begin to palm his hardening cock through the material. He hisses at the contact, unlatching his mouth from your breast and dropping his head between your breasts as his hips begin to grind into your hand. Soft whimpers fall from his lips as he chases the pleasure, pressing chaste kisses against your sternum between his pants. When your fingers dip underneath his pants to grip the base of his length you gasp at the moderate size and feel the ridges that line it. Just then, a fun little idea passes your thoughts. You press a quick kiss to the crown of his head and begin to wriggle underneath him, lowering yourself underneath him.

Lower, lower, and lower you wriggle until your head is underneath his pelvis. You can tell by the way Inumaki freezes up and gets flustered that he’s a tad bit embarrassed, cute.

“Please?” You crane your head up to look at him as your fingers dance across his waist band. And wow, how could Inumaki ever tell you no with the way you’re looking at him.

He knew in that moment you would be the death of him, and he would eagerly lay into the grave.

His heartbeat echoes in his ears as he watches you pull his waist band down and his cock springs forward on your tongue. He looks away, shy under your gaze when you give him a few slow strokes and rub your thumb over the slit. It reminds him just how inexperienced he is in this category, never taking on a partner throughout his adult life. When he feels your arms hook under his thighs and you take him wholly into your mouth it takes all of his strength to not collapse directly onto you and blow his entire load. 

Fuck, you felt amazing. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels the way your tongue and cheeks wrap around and suck him in. Inumaki is lost in the haze of his own desire, he was drowning in your scent and touch, his head filled with cotton as the room grew hotter. He’s minorly aware of your palm pressing into the back of his thighs to coax him to thrust his hips as his leisure, but he was scared of losing himself and hurting you, but he also doesn’t want to disappoint you. So with a shaky breath he pulls his hips back until his length is out and only the tip remains around your lips before slowly sinking himself back in, shuddering when he feels your tongue rolls around and your mouth vibrates with your pleasured hum. 

The sensation floods into his belly and travels down his legs, adjusting his weight from his palms to his forearms as he continues rolling his hips with a slow and gentle rhythm. He tries to ground himself by shifting his weight so he was leaning on one arm, while his other hand comes down to hold the side of your head and smooth down your hair. But still, the pressure builds in his abdomen and threatens to spill over, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer so against his better wishes, he gently pulls himself out of your mouth and scootches you back up the bed. 

While he’s not experienced, he’s not clueless. He’s heard enough sexcapades from Yuuji and his other friends and is well old enough to know how a woman's body works. And he’s always prided himself on being adaptive and observant. So he’s going to try his best to take care of you first. It’s a contingency plan, just in case he embarrasses himself with a short stunt during the main event.

You blink a few times and catch your breath in your daze, giving Inumaki a half delayed kiss when he meets lips with you again. He mutters a soft word you can hardly catch but sounds like a question, and when you peer down you can see his hand hovering on your own pants to ask a wordless question. You nod fondly while you assist him in shedding the last of your clothes together. When he crawls back over you, pecking you on the cheek, then jaw, neck, belly, you realize his intentions, and as bad as you really want to find out the extent of that little buzz on his tongue, you don’t want to waste your climax on it.

“Wait.” 

Inumaki pauses and looks up at you with a question in his eyes. 

“Trust me, I would love that–” You pause and think about it for a minute and giggle, shaking the thought from your head to focus. “But we can save that for next time.” You roll over and guide him to sit up against the headboard of your bed and crawl into his lap. “I just want you more than anything else right now.”

“Sujiko~?” He smiles that stupidly handsome smile and runs a hand over your hip before giving a squeeze.

Wait–

You both pause a moment and look down. 

“Right. Do you have a, uh– condom?” You try your best not to snort at the lack of planning.

“Okaka. Tsuna?” He points at you. 

“I don’t either.” Shit. Were you both about to do something stupid?

That’s the thing about love though, it burns fast and hot and is often wrapped in half baked thoughts and stupid decisions.

“I’m on birth control though. Have been for years to regulate my cycle.” You awkwardly smile as you admit this fact to him.

Fuck it. 

You both share teenage-love-like giggles as he helps lift your hips and guide you onto him. Pressing messy kisses between laughs and bumped teeth, which are promptly cut off by a shared huff as you sink onto his length and feel the anticipated dull stretch as he pushes past your slick walls. As the last few inches slow, you lift your hips and readjust so you can sink all the way down until you're pressed flush, taking a few moments to breathe and feel each other's heartbeats. Inumaki wraps his arms and holds you tightly around the waist while your hands cup his face, he looks up at you like you’ve hung the stars against the moon and whispers something.

“Whats that?” You smile down at him. 

Inumaki brushes a few hairs behind your ear and kisses the outer shell and whispers it again. A gasp leaves your lips and a shiver runs down your spine, looking back at him as a furious blush runs over his cheeks.

You grab his cheeks to force him to look at you again.

I love you too.”  You whisper before kissing him deeply as you begin to roll your hips and grind against his lap, riding him until your thighs burn and the coil in your stomach begins to wind tight. Pants and moans fill the air as the sweat clings to your bodies and dance together with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“Fuck- right there.” You plead to him as your rhythm begins to falter and get sloppy. Your legs begin to give out, tipping your hips downward so your clit presses against his pelvis, moaning at the much needed, delicious friction. 

Inumaki senses this and lifts your hips to match your motions and thrust up into you, he’s close himself, but sheer will is powering him through to chase your high and meet you at the summit, you’re right there, he can feel it, he can see it– and it’s a divine sight indeed. Just a little longer, a few more thrusts. His hand comes up to support the back of your head that's now falling back in bliss, and that gives him an idea. He wraps his fingers at the base of your roots and gives a firm but gentle tug. 

“Hah-” Blinding white pleasure crashes over you as your back arches and you ride your high, screaming his name as your body tenses. 

Inumaki can sense your body begin to limp, so with swift precision he flips you onto your back and hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder, burying his head into the crook of your neck and allowing himself a few desperate thrusts into your heat before his own climax breaks, pulling himself out at the last second and spilling himself over your belly. His shoulders tense and twitch and his mouth falls open as the last drops spill.

The room quiets, the kind of peace that soothes the soul. He wipes the sweat from his brow and offers an apologetic smile for making a bit of a mess.

“No need to apologize.” You huff breathless and wipe your own sweat from your skin. “In fact you should do it again. And again.” 

You little succubus, he thinks as he points a flirtatious finger at you, leaning over to kiss you one last time before he shuffles to your bathroom and emerges after a moment with a warm towel to wipe down your belly and thighs. The heat soothes your aching muscles, groaning at the sensation with thanks.

He wonders for a moment what he’s supposed to do now. It’s currently late-as-hell-o’clock. Would it be weird if he stayed? He really wanted to. His nerves get the better of him and his foot starts to bounce. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving after all of that.” You all but tease and his head snaps to look at you, his shocked expression soon melting into a smile as he crawls into bed and throws the covers over the both of you. Still stark naked, a bit sweaty, sure but that was tomorrow's problem. 

For now he would hold you close and listen to your breaths as you fell asleep in his embrace, the warmth of his skin pressed against you as sleep catches up to him.

—--- ♡ —---

The sun once again spills through the curtains and rouses you from your deep slumber, stretching your limbs and feeling the ache really settle in. 

The ache.

Last night. 

Your eyes shoot open and you turn around to an empty spot in the bed, the wrinkles in the sheets the only evidence that he was there. What time was it? Did he leave? Where did he go? Oh shit where's your phone, maybe he left you a text–

“Kelp!” Inumaki pokes his head into your bedroom, wearing last night's joggers slouched lowly on his hips while his chest is on full display, he carries a tray with him and sets it down over your lap.

It was breakfast. An entire array of it too, fresh rice, soups, and all the fixings of a full course meal.

“Did you… cook me breakfast in bed?”

He pinches your cheek, but this time kisses it too and your heart skips a beat, then hands you a scribbled note.

Good morning:) Do you work today? You usually do. But if you do… you're late;p I just couldn't bring myself to wake your pretty face up. I had Gojo cover my classes today so I have the day off to relax. Let’s do something later.

“Breakfast in bed and a cute little note? Oh, I’m keeping you.” You joke with a full mouth of food.

“I’m off too, my coworker offered to cover my shift yesterday after I… had a little accident.”

He looks at you with worry, which you wave off, he takes the note back and scribbles something else before handing it back.

So that means I get you all to myself then.

Warmth fills your heart, all you knew was that you were in fact keeping him, and something tells you he would be more than happy to be kept.

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

And Then I Met You 𓂃𓈒 ꨄ︎

Series Masterlist • Previous Page • Next Page

Series Tags • strangers to lovers • slowburn • neighbors au • hurt/comfort • fluff & smut • Chapter Tags angst, hurt, miscommunication, descriptions of major anxiety, cannon typical violence Word Count: 5.7k a/n: one more chapter to go! emotional smut and closing next but for now? pain city:)) enjoy

The bright morning sun peeks through the curtains to beg your eyelids open, piercing through your thin veiled flesh and rousing you awake. A low groan leaves your lips as you turn to your side and bury your head away from the offending light, sleep still heavy behind your lids. You wriggle about a moment to get comfortable, stretching your limbs as the morning fog begins to dissipate from your head. Pieces of last night begin to float into your mind.

Inumaki

His hand on your waist, his eyes searing against your lips–

Inumaki!

Your head leaves the pillow cold as your body shoots off the mattress in a panic. That's right, that really did happen– or… almost happened. He was called away. Shit, your phone– where's your phone?! Panicked fingers pat the mattress blindly before finding the smooth glass device in haste, squinting at the brightness when you open the screen and you check your notifications.

Nothing.

That’s ominous, he always leaves a text for you to wake up to. You try to brush off the disappointment that overtakes your emotional state, but there's a gnawing thought that rests in the back of your skull begging you to recognize something was off. You swipe the screen open and check your messages with Inumaki– just to make sure you didn't miss anything. And there your text from last night rests with a ‘delivered’ bubble teasing you. He hasn’t even read it. 

Was he ignoring you? No– you’re being dramatic. Then again, last night was the closest you’ve ever been to defining the ambiguous relationship you two had been fostering over months of companionship. The mattress greets your back once again as you flop over in frustration, rubbing your eyes to scrub the intrusive thoughts that threaten to invade your mind and tell you that what had happened last night scared him off for good, and that you weren't good enough.

As a distraction, you try your best to recall the frantic phone call he received, and while you couldn't hear the exact details you remember hearing how panicked Yuuji was. Inumaki said it was a work emergency, but it was a Saturday night and he was allegedly a teacher. Schools are closed on weekends, what could possibly pull him away at such an hour? Something about it didn’t add up. But it's been less than 12 hours and it feels down right ridiculous to draw such conclusions, so you decide to pull yourself into the shower and go about your day. 

It was your day off, and you’re almost regretful of it because now you have nothing to keep your hands or mind busy. Idle hands were the devils playground, and you fear where your mind would wander if you didn’t keep yourself occupied. But, you did need to go for groceries, even though that task would burn only an hour and a half at most out of the entire day, and the thought of passing the rest of the day with nothing else on the docket filled you with a quiet anxiety that buzzed against your neck, like an ever-present pest flying around your ear. Oh well, a hot shower and busy hands will make good distractions. 

The walk to the local grocery store is quite nice, although you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about how quiet it was without Inumaki’s pestering and quick-quips. It feels hollow without his presence, a missing puzzle piece. But you’re an adult that doesn’t dwell on childish crushes, at least that's what you tell yourself as you step into the store and begin your shopping. Pursuing the aisles at your leisure is a nice reprieve from early morning anxiety. Your eyes scan the isles and pick different ingredients and easy ready-to-make snacks while you idly check your list for the staples needed for the week. An extra little sweet treat here and there wouldn't hurt, so you add extra comfort snacks and drinks before you make a round to the meat aisle to stock the essential proteins needed for the week's dinners. 

Normalcy relaxes the tension you subconsciously hold in your shoulders, almost forgetting all about your beloved and mysterious neighbor, but the universe is a cold bitch that is eager to send a reminder about your current state of anxious affairs. While scanning the different packaged meats you find the regulars; beef, chicken, pork, then finally seafood. The normal selection is there, shrimp, crab legs, white fish and… salmon.

Salmon. The thick pink marbled flesh packaged neatly in plastic stares back at you and reminds you of him. His affirmation, the first word you remember him speaking to you and the embarrassing mistranslation from months ago.  A bitter laugh escapes your throat, yet you still find your fingers picking up the neat package and placing it in your basket, eventually finishing the rest of your shopping and picking up a few extra comfort snacks on the way to the checkout.

The walk back home is slow considering you were avoiding an arrival to an empty staircase with no partner to walk with, but eventually the empty stairwell greets you nonetheless. It’s annoying how every little thing reminds you of Inumaki, and as your foot falls on the last stair atop your level as you try to push down the memory of Inumaki catching you, you realize how ingrained he has become into every aspect of your life. Every crack, crevice, and breeze was filled with his presence, and despite the short time of lacking contact his absence rang loudly and bounced off your eardrums.

Intrusive memories are forcibly pushed aside as you walk down the hallway, ignoring the missing cadence of footsteps as you walk to your door and unpack your bags. The silence is deafening so you opt to play some music, but the once calming rhythm of the speakers is yet another reminder of him. ‘I didn’t hear your music this morning.’ You remember him mentioning one day when you overslept. It’s fine, no matter. The clock only reads around mid afternoon, and there was still a whole day to burn. Nothing a deep clean can't fix. So with the vigor of music and a few early afternoon drinks, you busy yourself, scrubbing the baseboards and wiping counters, dusting shelves and reorganizing cabinets and closets. 

Idle hands are the devils playground; and busy is where you keep your hands at. Even late into the evening when the alcohol catches up to your motor functions and the blare of your music keeps you upbeat with distraction. You scrub every surface that you normally don't look twice at, dust every shelf and polish every faucet until your apartment is sparkling as clean as a model home that stinks of sanitized lavender cleaner solution. The only task left at the burning daylight is collapsing against the couch after a hard day's work, the bright white ceiling greets you as you rest your head against the cushions and think back onto the day and past events. Against your better judgement, you fish your purposefully-neglected phone out of your pocket, hesitating a moment with your finger hovering above the smooth glass. It felt late, surely he had gotten back to you now, but innate intuition tells you otherwise. With a burst of forced confidence you tap the screen to ignite it to life and–

Nothing. Zero. Zilch. 

No new texts, just an empty screen. Disappointment mixes with anxiety and sits stone-heavy in your chest, and as if you were a glutton for punishment, you open his message screen and stare back at your last now-aging text from the night prior which sat cold and neglected without a read notification. Itchy fingers hover over the message line, desperately wanting to reach out to him. After all, it was unusual for him not to talk to you even if he was busy, and sending a quick text to check in wouldn't seem too clingy, right? It wouldn’t seem out of place, just casual– a worried friend, even. You type and retype a message several times before finally pressing send before your better judgement could decide against it.

You - 6:46 pm

Is everything okay?

The phone thumps onto the couch as the night slowly burns away quietly. 

—--- ♡ —---

Sleep hardly graces you that night, endlessly tossing and turning in an attempt to satiate the churn of your stomach. Before long the sun starts to rise, and it’s hard to tell how much actual sleep you've managed to chase over the night. Every small sound that muffled through the walls jolted you awake and pressed pins and needles into your neck, straining your ears to see if it was Inumaki, but a few cautious peeks through the peephole confirmed otherwise. You think it's best to get up now and get ready instead of sulking on the bed, a whisper of a thought telling you to call in since you felt like absolute shit but instead electing to suck it up and keep your mind busy and act like a functioning adult anyway. 

You endlessly make your way through the house, hardly paying attention to your surroundings or the time your feet auto pilot and carrying the empty husk that is currently your body. A weight on top of your head makes the fog roll in thick and makes you feel even more lost. The empty hall is a bitter sight that you quickly push past to disassociate on your way to work. Something didn’t add up– or multiple things didn't add up; just who the hell was Inumaki? He was a teacher, he said, a P.E-adjacent one at that. You remember the photo he sent. It did look like a school track and field campus. You pull your phone out and scroll back to the picture, ignoring the two unread messages over the past 2 days and expand the image. Maki holds a long weapon, although it could be a practice one but what kind of training exercises are these kids doing? What are they training for? Maybe it was a formal martial arts class, but it still feels out of place.

The doors to the cafe greet your forehead in your distracted state, quickly looking around to see if anyone saw your mishap, while there were a few people around they seemed to not notice, or pretend they didn't, which you silently appreciate. Perhaps it’s best to shelve the thought for now and get to work, a healthy distraction would be good. But still, that ever-present gnawing sensation you’ve held and tried to work past over the days persisted too well. It would quiet during busier intervals but came back stronger when there was a moment to breathe, and despite your best efforts to disguise your anxious gut there were a few concerned customers and coworkers that cast worried looks and placating smiles your way.

Aside from a few minor order mistakes, the day was going as well as it could. With only an hour left on shift offering overtime was something you were ruminating in your mind. You could use the extra cash, you bargain with yourself, but you don’t want to admit you simply just don’t want to go home. All you would do is check your phone mindlessly and jump at the smallest sound coming from the hallway, and pace around the room and look through the peephole. You weigh the options currently sitting on the scales when suddenly a searing sensation burns the back of your hand. 

“Ahh!” A sharp hiss leaves your lips as you clutch your hand to mitigate the pain. 

It seems while your mind was elsewhere, you weren't paying attention to the espresso machine you were currently using, scalding yourself on the boiling coffee and steam that had come out. A crowd of onlookers land their gaze on you, some covering their mouths in empathy– or horror, and you try your best to keep yourself together so as not to cause a scene.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” A soft voice comes from your left, it was your midshift coworker Yume. She was soft and gentle, young– freshly graduated from high school. Full of a bright future and eagerness not yet burnt out from the adult world. 

“I’m good, really. I’ve suffered worse before.” You laugh it off so dear Yume wouldn’t keel over in concern. Sometimes you think she was too empathetic for her own good. But before you could finish your sentence, she’s pushing you through the back employee doors and sitting you down in the break room before digging out the small first aid kit under the sink.

“Yume– you should go back, I can take care of it.”

“You do that a lot.”

Huh?

She looks up briefly and smiles at your gaffawing while opening the burn cream.

“You always try to take everything on while minimizing yourself.” She’s speaking softly while tending to your wound, cautiously. Like she’s being careful not to speak out of turn to someone a good decade older than her. 

“I do no such thing!” You quickly defend. “It’s not that bad, it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

“Yet–” Yume is just as quick, muttering a soft apology when you hiss at the contact of the cream. She elaborates when she wraps the burn with soft gauze. “Here you are.”

“Any wound that isn’t tended to will get worse before it gets better. It might even leave a worse scar than if you took the time to take care of it.” She continues while she  finishes the wrap and looks at you knowingly.

You squint at her, having a sinking feeling she wasn’t just talking about the burn. Perhaps she was more perceptive than you gave her credit for. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that’s been bothering you. I'm young, not stupid.”

You snort at that, remembering being a little more like her at her age too. You wonder how a person changes so much overtime. Maybe it was untended scars. 

“I’m… not even sure what exactly it is either. It’s hard to explain. I think.” Your eyes scan at nothing while trying to explain.

“I think you might know, if you let yourself.” You try to ignore that last part, but realize you were doing the exact thing Yume was implying. She stands back up and dusts her apron off, turning to smile at you.

“You’re almost done anyway, you should go home early. I can cover the last hour.” Before you can deny her offer Yume opens the door and makes a gesture for you to leave. Right before you pass the threshold you turn back and give Yume a hug, swift and tight, delighting in the way she squeals against your surprise attack. 

You leave the cafe feeling a feather lighter, still drugged by a worrisome cloud that hands over your head but with a kindling of hope that could, with a little careful tending, could provide a light at the end of a dark tunnel. You raise your hand into view thoughtfully and turn it over a few times, taking in the sight of the bandage that wrapped around your palm as if it was the key to a long locked chest– whether you wanted to open it and let whatever spill out or swallow the key whole and let the rusted metal scrape your throat and bleeding internally to avoid it was still yet to be decided.

Before long the sight of your apartment greets you, but before your key meets the lock you hesitate, turning your head to look across the small hallway at Inumaki’s door. It’s been 2 days, and it’s been nothing but radio silence. But what was once lingering insecurity that you got too close and drove him off began to morph into an inkling of danger. After all, you were just a concerned friend, it wouldn't be too clingy to knock at his door, right? 

So you do, sucking in a breath of fervor as you turn hell to face his door and knock. 

A beat.

Two.

Three.

Only the sounds of your incessantly tapping foot fill the hall as you wait a minute more. Irritation bites at your ribs.

Knock knock knock. 

A minute more and irritation melts into a lingering anxiousness. This was unlike him, you know deep inside it was. Sure, you hadn’t known him as long as his friends, but you were his friend too, and it’s been nearly 6 months. So you think you have a pretty good idea of his character, at least that’s what you tell yourself to ease the guilt of your next move.

The door knob beckons you.

No, you can’t. That’s such a creepy and grossly violating thing to think, and considered breaking-and-entering. Which is illegal. But… What if he’s in trouble? What if he’s deathly ill and he's been rotting in bed for days with no help?  A bit of an extreme scenario… but still. No, no, no. You’re being crazy… or? Concerned? Even still– the door is most likely locked. You think back to that last Saturday when he stopped by before… that happened– or, almost happened. He brought you your mail that was mixed in with his own, and then he left in a rush. Unless he went back into his apartment to grab something it could very well be unlocked.

Your hand slowly comes to the knob as your thoughts race. You decide to knock one more time for good measure. There’s a heartbeat of silence before the knob clicks and you poke your head through cautiously.

“Inumaki? It’s me…” The need to announce yourself to an almost guaranteed empty room satisfies your guilt as you carefully push past the door.

“I uh… Haven’t heard from you in awhile and I’m worried Im– Im coming in.”

It’s eerily quiet in his house as you softly click the door shut and tip toe around his living space. You scan the surroundings and the living room is neat enough to look like a show room in a furniture store, which unsettles you more than you’d like to admit. You tip toe to the kitchen, scanning the bathroom and hall. The kitchen is mostly clean, with traces of someone living there, a few empty dishes in the sink but no cups of warmed coffee or tea on the kitchen table. You’re no witty detective so you can’t decipher how long the dishes have sat. 

To the bedroom for safe measure, you think. The layout should be almost identical to your own, so you find it quickly, the door is open but you still look into the room slowly. And yet, it’s empty. The bed is made and there's no signs of a rush or struggle– would there even be? You should leave, this is wrong. But on the way out you move to the bathroom just to double check. You scan again, straining your eyes to look for something, anything. God, this is stupid, you’re not a genius detective that can deduce a whole scene from the smallest details. The only marks of someone who has used this room are the small crusts of alabaster crystals left from hard water marks against the porcelain sink. They splash against the rim, maybe he washed his face. You feel deflated and exit his apartment before any prying eyes catch onto you, but a wave of anger washes over you as you exit and the door clicks. 

Maybe it's the pinnacle of everything you wanted to feel shoveled down over the past few days that come to a head, or maybe you’re just finally losing it, but either way your knees find the floor as the weight on top of your head increases tenfold. There’s a ringing in your ear that starts soft but increases in volume as the seconds tick by, you pull your phone out in panic– or maybe anger, and text him again

You - 1 min ago

I dont know whats going on, but I’m worried about you. If I don't hear back in the next day I swear to god Inumaki I will find you and kill you myself.

The door to your apartment slams shut with a loud thud. Angry steps lead you to your laptop as you crack open the device and start piecing together the puzzle. 

—---

“Inumaki, now!” Yuuji shouts as he runs quicker than lighting through acid and flesh.

Inumaki runs toward his counterpart, light feet thumping against the fleshy walls of the domain they’re currently trapped in, his footsteps run up against the wall before he leaps into the air and flips, releasing his snake and fangs seal and unleashing his own curse.

“EXPLODE.”

The building mound of curses that fall over themselves like ocean waves and light up the domain in a flash of bright light as they follow his command by force. Only when the ashes fall around them and sickly purple ooze coats the fleshy walls of the domain does the noise grow still, allowing Inumaki to relax and catch his breath.

“Is it just me, or does it feel like we're running in circles?” Yuuji asks with a huffed breath, they’ve been at it longer than he can count. “It feels like we're doing the same thing over and over again!” 

It did. Inumaki had arrived just in time. The reports which Yuuta gave came back as a grade 3 curse that the students could handle for field practice. But when higher curse energy fluctuated Yuuji moved in to double check, and something shifted when he called Inumaki in a panic. It was an anglerfish curse, using a lower grade lure as bait to draw other curses– or an unfortunate soul nearby before it swallowed it whole. It would have been easy work for him to solo, if it hadn’t regurgitated every other curse it came across over the course of who knows how long. The sheer numbers had overwhelmed him. And the moment Inumaki stepped in to clear everything out with a single word, sharp dripping teeth had erupted from the ground, moving the earth as its maw snapped shut. 

He doesn’t know how long ago it was, it was hard to keep track of the hours in a domain. But he knows Yuuji and him are starting to wear thin with little to no back up. There’s no cell signal in a domain, and considering this was a special grade– a grade they haven’t encountered since that fateful day over 10 years ago, the clock was ticking. After all, after Shibuya Yuuji was unofficially downgraded from a special grade sorcerer to a first grade. His residual cursed energy from Sukuna’s vessel was ingrained into his body but lacked the ultimate trump card. And Inumaki– after all these years training hard, was a first grade himself, they were only minorly out of their depth. 

Still– the clock was ticking, Gojo-sensei wasn’t around to simply sweep everything away with a convenient hollow purple. He was away overseas to bargain something with the American government– a tumultuous task ever since Kenjaku roped them in during the Shibuya Incident. And they were growing weary, whether it was an effect of the domain or the result of fighting for days on end wasn’t clear, but they needed to do something fast. 

“Tuna tuna!” Inumaki points toward a new wave of half digested curses bubbling up from below a pool of stomach acid. “Mustard left! Tsuna mayo!” He tracing a finger along the wall and brings his fist down into his palm.

“Is that going to work?!” Yuuji asks while running towards the curse pile and baiting them to follow him.

‘“Tuna” Inumaki repeats the motion as he moves into place behind him, running up the wall and flipping into the air while unzipping his collar “Tuna!” We have to try.

“DECAY.”  The air warps around Inumaki's lips and reverberates around the air before landing on the wall of the flesh-laden domain, it’s forced to submit to his command and begins to rot away. It was something he had tried desperately before but it regenerated too quickly with how thick the walls were.

That's when he thought to create a weak point, it didn’t have to rot all the way through, just enough to compromise the structure. Inumaki lands on his feet and waits a split second for Yuuji to lead the army of weaker curses to the spot, Yuuji runs up the wall and jumps off to move out of the way while the pile of curses bulge into the rotting spot.

His eyes are fixed on the target, waiting for the more to pile in.

More.

Just a second more.

“EXPLODE.” 

A loud thunderous boom fills the space, the pile of curses wedged into the weak spot light up in a line from front to back like a controlled demolition and blast a hole in the domain, it burns away in fire and ash as it crumbled away and drops Inumaki and Yuuta coldly onto the ground with a harsh thump. They cough and catch their breath while they get a bearing on the environment, it’s dark in the forest, surly nightfall. They must have been trapped longer than they thought. 

Inumaki panics as he searches for the phone in his pocket, you must be worried about him. He couldn't stop thinking about you the entire time, if he was being honest, it slowed his movements and made him second guess every move he did. As the signal on his phone comes back he waits anxiously for his phone to update. Horror splashes over his body ice cold when he sees not just the time, but the date update. It had been about three days. His phone buzzes incessantly now that it has signal, he searches desperately for your texts among the various other notifications, seeing your texts come in back to back before he’s once again interrupted. 

“INUMAKI ON YOUR LEFT!” Yuuji calls out as he brings a cursed filled fist into the side of the angler curse. 

It’s wounded but has revealed itself; writhing about. Its sharp teeth and melting flesh on display with a bleeding gouged wound in its side. Its size was easily the size of a small office, and its glowing lure began punching into the ground and breaking earth as it fought desperately for its life. Yuuji and Inumaki do well to dodge the attacks, hopping around and using the terrain to evade any lethal attacks. The ground rumbles and the curse’s body morphs and bursts with hundreds of angry tentacles from its body, they thrash against anything in its path. One of them was aimed right at Yuuji, and coming in hot– when all of a sudden Inumaki shoulder checks him hard out of the way only a moment too late, the tentacle lands a hit and digs into the divot of his left shoulder and pec.

Yuuji rolls to soften his land and switches gears quickly to blast away a few of the tentacles with his cursed energy.

“Inumaki!” He yells from over his shoulder.

“Mentaiko!” Inumaki yells back with a thumbs up while holding his shoulder. It hurt, but he’s suffered far worse before.

“Alright, new plan–”

A blood curdling scream cuts through the forest.

Inumaki’s head snaps to the source. His eyes land on something that has to be a trick of the light. It’s you. How the hell could it be you? Even worse, he spots a medium low grade curse resting neatly on top of your head. Based on its size and look, you must have grown it yourself.

Are his eyes deceiving him? Is this another trick of the curse? He sees you with eyes bulged in fear, irises pinpointed and shaking while frozen in place as one of the cursed tentacles is moving straight toward you. 

And that's when you hear a foreign voice scream your name. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s the last moments in life that slow down frame by frame, but it feels like time is slowed down to a molasses-thick drip. In those seconds you see inumaki run and jump into the air, and with impossibly light feet he use the tens of thrashing tentacles as if they were mere steps to get to you. His fingers move to the collar covering his face, pinching at the zipper. You watch with careful eyes.

Ziiiiip

The cotton peels away with the wind, his mouth is free and reveals dark circles and angular lines that connect to the corners of his blushed lips, they stretch over his teeth as his mouth opens wide and a command falls off his tongue.

“TWIST.”

Before you know it, several of the long appendages on that goddamn monster freeze in their tracks before they can reach you, and twist until they burst, and for some reason the weight on your shoulders and head feel 10 pounds lighter as well. You think you hear a loud animalistic screech as if whatever the hell that thing is was in pain but you’re frozen in place and much too distracted by digesting the past 10 seconds. Fear has long gripped your body as everything you knew was ripped out from under you and scrutinized as a lie. There’s a loud ringing in your ears that gets louder and louder with each passing second before your shoulder is jostled in a panic.

Oh.

It’s Inumaki.

He’s looking at you with panicked eyes and– wait. There's a worry in his lip. His lips are moving. That's right. You saw his face, you see it now. It’s pretty. You want to–

“Mustard leaf!!” Inumaki is shaking you full force in a panic, his fingers digging desperately into your shoulders. Right. We’re currently in a life-or-death situation right now, you think.

“Y-You’re okay.” Is the first thing that comes to mind. You spent the whole afternoon piecing together bits of his life and scouring the internet for anything on his school and just started walking. You hadn't anticipated walking in on this of all things.

Inumaki pauses and looks at you incredulously. Of course he’s okay– are you okay?!

He wants so badly to hold you, but the ground splits open further as the anglerfish curse makes one last attempt at survival. Yuuji calls out to him when to hit the mark because it was coming soon, and quicker than you can process he looks back at you with an apologetic look, he sees the fear in your eyes but wants to soothe it, the current time constraints allow a second. So he does what he knows.

He pinches your cheek.

You barely have time to register the touch left over before he's rushing back and attacking with Yuuji, moving swiftly through the air to deliver blows in tandem with his friend while they work in perfect synchrony. Yuuji lands a devastating blow and pivots midstep to move under Inumaki and launch him into the air above the monster. You watch in awe as his platinum hair swishes around his face and his limbs whirl with grace high in the air, he clutches the fabric of his collar to keep it away from his mouth as his lips stretch wide to yell one last command.

“EXPLODE.”

The air moves around his mouth and ripples outward like a rock thrown into still water. They reverberate through the air and bounce off the sleek black sea creature. There’s a moment's pause where everything is quiet, eerily so, like a calm before the storm. After a breath the monster ignites bright with several explosions. Its body is ripped apart in a grand burst as deep purple sludge is launched into the sky and around the perimeter. Inumaki is quick to land on his feet and jump to you, wrapping you safely in his embrace and you both fall to the ground and he shields you from the splash back. 

It’s quiet. Eerily quiet, still as an old forest that keeps one too many secrets, it’s unnerving. You can feel your back on the cold soil with a warm weight on top of you as you gain your bearings. When Inumaki raises his head from his protective position above you, you recognize his face. He’s directly above you on his hands and knees looking down and scanning your features for any signs of injury. His sweat laced hair sweeps around his head and reveals his forehead, his eyes frantically darting across your face. But what captures your attention is the bottom half of his face; a sharp jawline, pink lips with a plump cupid bow that compliment the tip of his nose. The only thing out of place are the dark swirling lines of ink that stretch from the corners of his mouth and swirl at his dimples. They caged his lips with adorned ink in a way that made your knees weak. Is this what he was hiding the whole time?

Fuck, he was so goddamn pretty. He always was, wrapped in mystery and shrouded in shadow, but now that his full vestige was in the light you couldn't help the magnetic pull of your fingertips to trace the lines that nestled his lips. Just a touch wouldn't hurt, right? 

“My, my.” The air shifts with a swoosh sound, a voice you don’t recognize cuts through the air. 

There’s a man standing, taking in the scene of the crime. He had lush snow white hair and wore a blindfold. He rests his hands carefree in his pockets with a relaxed demeanor. He stands as tall as a tree, long lanky limbs bent at joints to fit his relaxed posture as he moves to remove his blindfold to reveal pearlescent cerulean eyes kissed by iced lashes. He bends at the waist to look down at you two before speaking with an amused– almost flirtatious inflection. “My dearest student, Inumaki. What the hell happened here while I was away?”

Your brows furrow at the intrusion. When did he even get here? Out of all the questions that flood your mind, only one leaves your lips.

“Who the hell are you?”

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

And Then I Met You 𓂃𓈒 ꨄ︎

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Series Tags • strangers to lovers • slowburn • neighbors au • hurt/comfort • fluff & smut • Chapter Tags inner turmoil, tooth-rotting fluff, tension, pining idiots, will-they-wont-they Word Count: 7.2k a/n: oh fuck yeah I hope you're ready to amp it up, also if you're like "this tv show sounds like BBC Sherlock" it is. I promise they gonna fuck sloppy style SOON but we need to plot. The Drama. The tension.

Saturday morning rises before you know it, a familiar alarm tune blares in your ear drums and jostles you from the warm sheets of your bed. With bleary eyes your hand reaches for your phone resting on the nightstand before your brain has a chance to fully awaken, straining to focus on the bright blue light of the small screen to scan for any leftover texts from Inumaki. He’s become so ingrained into your routine it’s embarrassing if you think about it for more than 10 seconds, but you always win the mental battle and fold with little pressure. Sickly sweet dopamine coats your brain honey-thick when you spot the familiar notification badge, quickly reading over the text he left last night and recalling the late night conversation. You send a quick reply; lacking substance but mostly serving the function to alert him that you were indeed awake but still making sure the reply made sense to your prior conversation and lacked any adolescent restlessness that you felt.

Saturday mornings have become a secret favorite, since it was a day off for him and the last work day for you, which meant that Inumaki walked you to work out of his own free will and lingered in the morning when you began your shift. The thought alone renews your vigor, tossing the sheets with a flick of your wrist to begin your morning routine. Excited thoughts buzz in your brain in the shower as you anticipate all the possibilities that could unfold once you open that door to begin the day. You can picture him: dressed in baggy clothes with his face obscured by either a face mask or a heavy scarf, standing with ease checking his phone while he waits for you. What should you do when you greet him? What should you say? You definitely want to ask him about the picture he sent you yesterday. 

“Erghhh!” Fingers press firmly into your eye sockets and scrub, trying to erase the cringe thoughts that danced in your head and reset your thinking. 

The hot water is abruptly cut off in your minor fit, moving to walk out of the shower and dry yourself off while trying to distract yourself. Autopilot takes over for the remainder of your routine; getting dressed, eating a light breakfast and fixing your face and hair before anxious steps bring you to the door, only faltering slightly when you’re a mere six paces away. Your fingers itch, desiring to pull the phone from your pocket and text him that you were about to leave. It seemed unnecessary, since the past 4 Saturdays he had waited by his own door for you, what made it so different now? Why did you feel a churn of insecurity sloshing so venomously in your belly? 

You will the thought away, grabbing your bag from the hook and swinging the door open, making yourself busy with looking at your bag and clothes as if you were taking mental note of a checklist to ensure you had everything before you left, when all of a sudden the opposite door creaks open a beat later, revealing Inumaki. You catch sight of him brushing his hair through his fingertips, catching the way his soft platinum hair laces through his fingertips and falls around his cheekbones. He makes eye contact with you at just the right moment, almost as if it were staged. Was he watching you through the door? No, he wouldn't be so bothered.

Relief floods your veins at the sight of his stature as he smiles with his eyes and raises his hand in greeting. 

“Kelp!” You enthusiastically beat him to his signature greeting.

He relaxes and looks at you fondly, raising his hand to your cheek, surely to pinch it as he always did, you leaned into his touch, anticipating it. 

“Did you have a good work week?” You ask while walking in step with him. “Besdies torturing your students.”

“Salmon! Tsuna mayo.”

It became easier to decode his speech, he was able to communicate more short small talk directly through his safe speech with the knowledge of context and body language. 

“I’m glad! By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask, do all your friends from high school work at your school too?” 

When he sent that picture yesterday, you realized you still don’t know much about his personal life, and the only thing you know about his extended friend circle is they went to high school with him. 

Inumaki gives a thoughtful hum while his eyes thoughtfully scan the sky in pondering. You begin to fiddle with anything in your proximity, the hem of your shirt, your bag strap, anything to keep your hands busy while you wonder if maybe you’ve crossed a line and made him uncomfortable. Maybe you shouldn’t pry too deep into his life, but then Inumaki pulls his phone from his front pocket and swiftly types a message.

fish 4 brains - 7:12 am

We all work closely with the school but I’m the only teacher. Yesterday everyone had some free time so they visited campus while I was working. 

It's nice that his friends can stick together, you think. Although it raises more questions about what kind of school-adjacent work Yuuji, Yuuta, Megumi, and Maki would do. Were some of them higher faculty? Administration staff? That wasn’t too far off from your previous career. 

“I see! That’s nice you all get to stick together, I lost all my friends after high school… we all sort of just… kind of lost contact.” Your eyes lower as you recall your past, a bitter salve hits your tongue at the thought.

Not wanting to sour the mood with your emotional trip down memory lane you switch gears.

“But! That’s the life of an adult… oh that reminds me! I saw a portion of someone I didn’t recognize.” You pull your phone out and swiftly navigate to the day old picture sitting in your text history, clicking the image to open it to show Inumaki. You point at the partial ginger haired woman off screen in the photo.

“Who’s this? I don’t remember her from your little get together a few weeks ago.” You try your best to maintain a curious but casual tone.

Inumaki leans in to inspect the subject you’re pointing out before he makes a short sound in realization.

fish 4 brains - 7:15 am

Oh that's Nobara Kugisaki. You would get along with her really well. Maybe too well actually. She was overseas when everyone was over a few weeks back, so you didn’t get a chance to meet her.

Ohh. So that was it, another one of his close friends, one he thought you would get along with more than everyone else. You were relieved to learn that fact, unsure of why you were so relieved but also curious to learn more about the apparent spit fire redhead that you would allegedly be best friends with. On the walk to work you ask him more about his job, his friends and how they fit into his life, and more about Kugisaki specifically. He provides easy and only semi vague answers, just specific enough to satiate your curiosity and keep you engaged and before you know it the cafe doors greet you sooner rather than later. 

One more question still burns the back of your mind as you open the door to the cafe.

“I remember that Yuuji mentioned that when he met you, he was wearing a funeral wreath or something?? What was that about??”

Inumaki looks over you for a moment, a whisper of surprise overtakes his eyes before he cools it back into his usual stoic demeanor and subtly chuckles with rasp and amusement at your persistent memory. 

“Sujiko.” His tyrian-purple irises swirl with mirth. “Tsuna mayo.” He waves off with ease, bending his wrist after a circular motion to drag his finger in a linear motion before gesturing back at you. ‘That's for another time.’

You protest this,, much to his delight, as you walk him into the cafe and busy yourself behind the counter to make his usual order, by now it’s a routine fight of trying not to charge him while he scolds you with his signature ‘okaka’ before you finally relent and let him tap the screen to pay, but that doesn't stop you from including a free pastry with his coffee when you finally serve him his order. He idly chats at you at the counter, sipping his drink with a straw between his scarf before the morning rush comes in. He waits at the door to wave goodbye in between customers with a half-drank coffee and fresh pastry bag in hand before he leaves and you continue the workday. 

Inumaki lets the crisp morning air blow through his hair and tickle his cheeks, too lost in thought to pay any mind to the sensation. You were the best part of his day, always searching for a way to reach out and spend even a few minutes together. He knew what he was getting himself into, against his better judgement, it was like giving into the sweet taste of nicotine that filled his lungs and coated his brain stem, waiting restlessly for the next hit if too much time had passed. He convinced himself that it was harmless to both parties; a symbiotic relationship of support and companionship for one who was in a time of down luck and the other who's always been outcast for his certain shortcomings in communication.  

Just then, the dull buzz of his phone against his thigh alerts him, the sensation stops him in his tracks to check the notification. It was his dear friend Yuuta  letting him know that reports of curse activity not too far far from the school came back as 3rd Grades and could be used as an exercise for the students. Inumaki offers dinner for doing him that favor which he asked earlier in the week to which Yuuta replies back his genuine thanks, insisting it was no trouble at all and praising his good friend for always looking out for his students. 

Good friend. He stares back at the small letters lit against the screen, he rereads the words as they stare back at him. Was he a good friend? Would a good friend so selfishly keep another friend at arms length? Would a good friend keep secrets dipped in ink and blood and hope for the best? Guilt sours in his mouth when he thinks back to your bright smile and warm laugh. He allows himself to imagine what it would be like if you were able to step foot into his world whole heartedly, to know everything about him and what lies beyond the veil of society and creeps in the walls of places of sorrow. He wonders what you would make out of all of it– knowing you, you’d take it in stride and even adapt, as he watched you do so in all other aspects of your life– remembering how you hardly blinked an eye when you learned about his speech habits. 

Inumaki daydreams about it more; he would take you to visit the campus, show you all the landmarks and memories of when he was a student, show you off to his students– and maybe just show off a little when it came to training exercises. Maybe you would even walk home together and share a meal late in the evening, exchanging laughs that float through the air and entangle with wafting spices in the kitchen. Maybe he would tease you and poke and prod until you play-fought again, pressing up against the kitchen counter and leaning in closer and closer, grasping your chin between his forefinger and thumb until…

“Sujiko!” Inumaki curses at himself, burying his face further into his scarf and shaking his head like he was physically trying to erase the wandering thoughts away. Shame burns his cheeks underneath the knitted fabric that adorned his mouth.

What a fucking idiot, he thinks as he fishes out his apartment keys and fumbles them in his flustered state, inhaling a sharp breath and pausing when he drops them on the floor with an unceremonious clink. After a few sloppy attempts to unblock the godforsaken door he rushes in and slams it behind him. He tears the suffocating cotton material of his scarf and jacket off and casts them against the nearest wall in frustration. The room is hot and his head is spinning, his feet bring him to the bathroom where he cranks the faucet in panic, splashing the cold water against his face, once, twice, three times before blindly turning the faucet back off. He leans over and heaves a few breaths while he calms down. The room is quiet, only the sounds of water droplets hitting the ceramic sink and the drum of his heartbeat fill the empty bathroom. 

Slowly, Inumaki raises his head and wipes the remaining water from his eyes, he blinks out the remaining droplets as his own blurry reflection comes into focus. Wet strands of bleached hair cling to his forehead, stray water droplets fall over the mounds of his cheekbones and down his jaw, disappearing beneath the swirling onyx seals that caged his lips. A bitter reminder of his curse was staring point blank back at him, mocking the romanticized daydreams his heart so childishly let him indulge in.

He moves thoughtlessly through the apartment, dazed feet carrying him to the living room before arriving to the couch so he can flop onto the soft cushions and disassociate into the ceiling for an undisclosed amount of time. His head feels like it’s been thrown into a washing machine, a whirl of thoughts spinning in a violent cyclone, each question he asks himself swelling over and crashing against the steel walls only to be cycled back with another before he can come to a conclusion.

When it becomes too much to bear and the pressure builds behind his eyes, he presses his fingers into his eye sockets to beg for relief. He decides a run would help clear his mind, so he reluctantly pulls himself from the couch to get dressed, grabbing his phone and keys from the coffee table before leaving.

And run he did, he ran until his feet were tired and his lungs burned, until his legs carried him to a secluded spot in a wooded area. It did help to clear his head and quell some of the anxiety that simmered in his stomach, and after a few paces he did finally decide to call his best friend Yuuta, considering he was the safest space for him next to Panda, and after a long phone call he jogged back home feeling a bit lighter in his step. Feeling refreshed and just a step closer back to normal, he checked the mail he had forgotten earlier on his way back in.

All the usual: bills, advertisements, and– oh.

Inumaki double takes at your name printed against the stark white envelope next to your similar apartment number. The mail courier must have mixed up the envelopes upon drop off. That was odd, in all the years he’s lived here he’s never once had a mail mix up. Maybe it was a sign– no that’s ridiculous, it’s an honest mix up, he thinks. He grabs his phone from his pocket to let you know, noticing the time as he went to open your contact. It was well past the hour you would be home– shit the day really got away from him, huh? In that case, it may just be more practical to drop it off at your door. Just a quick knock and exchange of parting pleasantries! At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

Once he arrives at your door, he knocks a few sharp thumps and waits a few beats that sync with his own heartbeat, jumping minutely when the door swings open. He tries to ignore the way your eyes morph from confusion to elation when you recognize him, brushing it off as a trick of the fluorescent lights of the hallway. The scent of spices wafts through the air and hits his nose. His ears burn as he takes in the scenery before him, almost matching exactly his gratuitous domestic day dreams he had earlier. He feels a wave of nostalgia wash over him, looking at you standing before him in a comfortable oversized band t-shirt and pajama shorts, your hair tied up into a simple style to keep it away from your face. Just like your first unexpected encounter.

“Oh! Inumaki, what graces you to my presence this evening?” You smile fondly at him with your inquisition.

Inumaki is still recovering, tasting the words that fizzle out on his tongue before he decides to present your lost mail as an offering. You take a moment to scan what he’s holding and he thinks it’s cute watching the gears turn in your head as you finally piece together the context. 

“Oh! Did my mail get mixed in with yours? You inquire curiously.

He only supplies a minute nod as he hands you the parcel, cherishing the fleeting moments of shared heat when his fingers brush against your own.

“Thanks! Did you just come from your run?” You ask gently. Inumaki is taken aback at your observance, nodding minutely in agreement. He wishes he could form more cohesive sentences for you. 

But the lack of communication is not a barrier for you, easily continuing the conversation.

“You must be hungry, come inside.” You don’t leave any room for question.

Inumaki shifts awkwardly, mentally debating the list of pros vs cons of taking the dinner invite. You’re able to see the cogs turn in his head, interrupting him before he comes to a conclusion.

“I know you’re hungry. It’s no burden at all.” You insist. “We can eat back to back in the living room if that's what you’re concerned about.” 

There’s a gnawing whisper in Inumaki’s ear, softly singing abuse into his ear. Flashes of the earlier morning flicker in his mind, replaying bits and pieces of the inner crossroads he battled earlier. He remembers his childhood, he remembers his curse marks that mocked him in the mirror, they slowly increased in volume, like a static radio blaring and crackling against speakers. But your warm and inviting smile and hopeful eyes beckoned them away, whooshing into thin air. Maybe he shouldn’t, but how could he say no to you? And so he agrees, muttering a soft ‘tsuna mayo’ while bringing his scrunched hands to his hair to indicate he wanted to shower first. When you easily accommodated his request he disappeared back into the safety of his own abode, quickly washing up while his heart hammered in his chest with anticipation and getting dressed.

When he finds himself back at your door, he hesitates. Your words ring in the back of his skull:

“I’ll leave the door unlocked, just let yourself back in.”

HIs hand comes up to the knob but hesitates. He knew he had a clear direction. He knows if he knocked and waited patiently you would bring it up and tease him. So why was he stuck? He knows why; letting himself in felt like a new level of intimacy, and if he was being frank, it just fed his earlier delusions of possibly being domestic in the future. It was a step closer to what his heart truly desired, but he wanted to make himself believe that it was because you trusted him as a friend and nothing more. Minimizing was a soft layer of silk that was adorned in wire that protected and hurt him. 

Inumaki decided to meet himself in the middle, sharply knocking three times before opening the door an inch to let the lock click loudly to alert you. 

“Konbu” He sing-songs as he walks in, desperately hoping you don’t notice the way his voice wavers. 

As he walks down the hall he’s greeted by the sight of you looking over your shoulder, your smile widening as you hold a pan and spatula in hand while plating two servings. 

“Just in time! Dinners ready.” You chirp, bring the two plates to the small coffee table in the living room. “I’m not the best cook but I’m not the worst either!”

He would eat anything you put in front of him, he decides right then and there. 

And he did, savoring the flavor of the food in between light conversation. He loved the way you understood his short sentences and the sound of your laughter when he texted you little quips, only wishing he could turn around and see your smile. Instead, he leans into the warmth of your back, letting his eyes flutter closed to remember the moment and brand the feeling of your body against his own into memory before he puts his mask back on and asks a simple ‘are you finished?’ in his safe language.

“Hm? Yeah! I’m stuffed. Might need to roll me onto the couch.” 

Inumaki turns around, face now secure, to gather your plate and place them on the coffee table next to you. He pushes the table away from the couch a few inches to give himself room to scoop you up bridal style and set you on the couch, smiling when you gasp in shock but still clinging to him. 

Once your weight is shifted onto the couch, you accidentally tug him with you, he caught himself with a knee pressed against the edge of the cushion and a hand against the back cushion next to your head to steady himself, with your noses brushing a breadth away as he looked down into your eyes. Time stops momentarily as you both look at each other, the air has left the minute space between you when all of a sudden Inumaki stands up abruptly to collect the dishes and disappear into the kitchen. You can hear the faint sound of running water in the background indicating he was washing up. 

Your hand comes to your sides to trace where his touch still lingered, brushing gently where his fingertips resided only a moment ago. You wonder if maybe he’ll stick around or make his way back across the hall, but you know you’re not ready to part ways just yet. What could you do? It feels silly trying to think up excuses to keep him around,, but then your eyes land onto the remote resting on the coffee table and you remember there was a show you’ve been meaning to watch.

“Hey, Inumaki!” You call over your shoulder, “I was gonna watch a new show, wanna watch it with me?” You try to make the question sound as casual as possible, but the brief pause that fills the air makes your stomach flutter in anticipation. 

When he agrees, you’re glad he’s still in the kitchen because it’s hard to bite back a smile, but then you realize you are unaware of any shows or media he likes. Sure, you’ve spent plenty of time with one another over the months you’ve come to know one another. The conversations do lean towards your input heavily due to the circumstances, but topics usually include details about one another's day; vague details of work or food or games he mentioned in passing and some stupid short-form videos sent back and forth. You realized in that moment, that you were so preoccupied with not prying too far into his life that you know next to nothing about his hobbies. So you make a mental note to ask him about his favorite movies and music later.

You must have looked lost in thought, because Inumaki playfully pinches your cheek and you jump at the contact. He has a quizzical look in his eye but you’re quick to scoot over and pat the cushion next to you to coax him to sit down, Inumaki sits down near the armchair of the couch, scooting his legs out and pushing his pelvis out in a relaxed manner as he rests one arm on the couch armrest while the other drapes carelessly over the back cushions. You're seated in the middle of the couch, legs tucked comfortably behind your thighs with ankles crossed, leaning towards inumaki but not touching. Close and comfortable, but not intimate, but the empty space between begged to close the distance. 

“Sujiko?” His eyes are fixed on the TV with curiosity before he looks at you.

“Oh, it’s a detective show, apparently a pretty popular one at that. I think it’s been around for some time but I’ve never seen it.” You lean over to reach the remote to unpause the title screen. “I’ve seen a few clips, the two main leads seem to have an entertaining dynamic. I don’t actually know what shows you like so if you find it boring we can change it and I can finish it later.”

Inumaki seems displeased with your minimizing, scolding you with a short ‘okaka’ before pinching and pulling your cheek in jest. Your hands come up to pry his finger off with a squeal. You attempt a counter attack, jutting your hand out to pinch at his hip but he’s quick in defense and grabs your wrist, twisting in gently and pinning it above your head. From this angle he’s leaning over you, his soft platinum hair fans around his face and tickles your eyebrows. You can see the outline of his lips through his black cotton facemask and his lilac eyes scan over your features in challenge as if he were asking ‘what can you possibly do now?’

“No fair!” You pout and pray the heat on your cheeks don’t betray your enjoyment of the current submission. 

You can see him smile through his mask, wishing you could see the full scope of his face, although it might be a good thing that you can’t because you have an inkling of a feeling you would fold instantly. Inumaki acquiesces and ruffles your hair before assuming his original position as if nothing happened. You rub at your cheek where he always favored his attacks.

“You always pinch my cheeks.” You mutter.

“Salmon.”

“You’re a bully.”

“Salmon.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“Hm. Salmon.”

You pause, heartbeat flooding, rushing blood into your ears. Did he just agree? Surely it was out of jest, merely banter and nothing more. So why did it affect you so much? A small kindling of hope that burned eagerly in your chest, crackling and smouldering while waiting for a wind to burst it into brighter flame. Unbeknownst to you, Inumaki freezes upon his admission, praying you take it in stride as playful banter and not him actively spilling his guts to you by accident. 

Inumaki breathes a sigh of relief when you switch gears and finally unpause the show and mutter a passing ‘I knew it.’ And left it at that. The upbeat opening music blares against the speakers and intrigues his interest. He doesn't have time to watch a lot of TV shows, rarely having the time in between teaching and taking on missions and instead spending his free time doom scrolling or playing video games. But this show is a chance for him to get to know you better, to look into your life and interests and if he’s being honest, a chance for him to explore his own interests. 

The exposition of the show begins, and it does well to capture the attention of the audience. The first lead is set as being oddly annoying and pretentious, but well informed with quick wit as he meets what seems to be the second lead. Inumaki snorts at their exchanges as the pretentious detective deduces the seconds leads entire life through subtle clues the average person would be clueless towards. 

“Oh my god he’s so annoying!” You laugh.

Inumaki snickers and agrees.

“But he’s right about everything and that's even more annoying because you can’t even defend yourself!.”

“Salmon! Tsuna mayo.” Inumaki pulls out his phone

You grab your phone from its place on the couch cushion and read his text. 

Fish 4 brains

Sounds all too well like someone I know

Your interest is piqued. 

“Who?” You run down the list of people you know close to him, but none of them fit the description exactly.

Inumaki sends another message 

Fish 4 brains

Gojo-sensei. He was my teacher back in high school but he’s unfortunately the principal now.

You giggle at his message, wondering who this Gojo-sensei was but–

Wait.

Gojo? That sounded familiar. 

“Oh.” Your head snaps to Inumaki, “Satoru Gojo?”

Inumaki’s brows shoot down to his nose in bewilderment and confusion. How the hell do you know that name? He panics–

“That was the name on the fancy black credit card Maki used to pay for the coffee. I remembered it because I thought it was an odd name for a woman.”

Inumaki pauses, eyes tracing invisible puzzle pieces on the ceiling before it clicks. 

“Hmmm. Salmon!”

“Why does it sound like you didn’t know that? It wasn’t stolen, was it?” You question carefully with a side eye. All Inumaki does is toss his head back and chuckle, very thoroughly entertained while you yourself feel like you’ve just cracked the case. Subconsciously, you scoot farther into the couch and move a few inches closer to him as you turn your attention back to the TV. You swear you can feel his shift a bit closer as well, but you brush it off as your imagination. The show continues on, exchanging snickers as it plays on. 

“Sujiko!” Inumaki rolls his eyes and points to the screen in frustration. 

It was a scene where the lead detective successfully deduced everything about the mysterious woman in pink and her suitcase. He was going on about her polished wedding ring and the direction of the rainfall. You laugh loudly at his annoyance. 

“Maybe he’s just a genius and we have to accept it.” 

“Okaka!” Inumaki ruffles your hair, but leaves his hand resting on your shoulder as you both turn your attention onscreen.

The atmosphere is thick with an unnamed tension. It clings to the air and presses your body further into the couch. There’s a thrumming anxiousness that twitches in your fingertips like little electric shocks that you sincerely hope he doesn’t notice, and if he does he doesn't say anything– which you’re grateful for. It becomes increasingly difficult to focus on the show flickering on the screen in front of you, and you begin to silently curse yourself for suggesting it in the first place– but who were you kidding, you were desperate to recreate the proximity from the party weeks ago. But what you don’t know is that Inumaki was fighting the same internal battle. It took all of his willpower to keep his eyes transfixed on the screen, cursing himself when he faltered and allowed his eyes to flicker over to you. His facemask felt usually suffocating, fighting the urge to pull it down to gasp for fresh air. 

As the show progresses and you both relax from the earlier tension, you find yourself leaning closer to him. You will yourself to focus on the plot, just in case he asks you about it, forcing yourself to ignore the growing beat in your chest as you strong arm your eyes to remain glued onto the screen. Your will was strong until you heard the shuffle of fabric as he adjusted himself. His arm, which was once resting across the back cushions inches closer to your shoulder. He lifts his pelvis up and scoots down the cushions further as if he's simply getting more comfortable, soon fiddling with his mask to adjust it. You decide to catch a glimpse of him by feigning on fixing your hair, looking up and to the side while taking it out and letting your hair fall down, tousling it and massaging at your scalp. From your peripheral his eyes are glued to the screen, but his knuckles are subtly flexing against the armrest. 

You can feel his warmth radiating from the small space between one another. It beckons you closer, to abandon the greyed boundaries that had blurred and morphed into something unrecognizable. You force your attention back on screen, but the sugary-sweet siren call was singing temptation an octave higher, promising paradise into your ear if only you would abandon the warm safety of the sands beneath your feet and tip-toed into the ice cold waters lapping at the banks.

So you give an inch to the siren call, leaning closer, fingers resting in your crossed arms itch to inch closer, as if a magnet pulls you to his own hands.  The sounds of the TV dull  in the dim room and become blurred into background noise as the sound of blood rushing through your veins overtakes the environment.. All of a sudden you’re hyperaware of your predicament; the minute way he inches closer, the way his warmth sears into your side, the rustling of his clothes while he fidgets. 

The background music of the show blares to life as the lead detective deduces a lead to the mysterious case, it seems so ludicrous that you laugh out loud at the plot.

“Damn, I thought that was going to be cheesy the whole way through, but it got a little dark.” You sigh dramatically, sinking further into the cushions towards Inumaki. “I like it.”

You can hear a rasped chuckle coated in syrup and velvet tickle your ears, it makes your heart thump hollowly against your ribcage. Inumaki fondly scoops his hands under your arms to pull you closer, leaning back to adjust your bodies so they lay against the couch. His firm chest presses against your side and you can swear you can feel the rhythm of his heart, but brush it off as the beat of your own. You ultimately decide to ignore rationale to cherish the press of his body against your own, your mind idly wondering if it’s a figment of your imagination. 

The plot is lost and rediscovered along the way, the detective making a brilliant deduction that's nearly comical but makes enough sense to be believable. When they exit the car and arrive at the crime scene there's blatant tension with a police lady who berates him. But what makes you both gasp is when the lead detective calls out her night out by catching the scent of male deodorant and insinuating something nefarious about the ‘state of her knees.’

“Oh my God!” You exclaim, rolling over so you're facing Inumaki. He’s wiping a stray tear from his lashline as his snickering calms down. “She had it coming, though.”

“Salmon.” He agrees easily, resting his hand on your waist, and suddenly you’re aware of how close you are, practically laying on top of him. 

The only thing you can focus on is how nice his hand feels on your waist, how firm his torso is pressed against your own. His eyes haven't left yours, their soft lilac hues reflecting the lights of the TV– oh God, you need space before you do something stupid. You press your hand against his chest to lift yourself, getting sidetracked by how firm his pecs feel underneath your fingers, your realizing just how athletic he was built underneath the baggy clothes he always wore. He must have noticed your shocked-state, because he tilts his head slightly, his shiny snow white hair falling around his eyes with the movement before his hand comes over yours.

“Mustard leaf?” His question is whispered, as if any louder would shatter the moment like glass.

“Y-yeah.” You reply after a beat, searching desperately for words; but every letter dies on the back of your tongue. Should you back away? He’s not making any move to back away either, but he’s also not making a move closer… But he also did initiate the position to begin with. Oh shit, you haven't brushed your teeth, are you staring too much? 

Inumaki grips your hand a little tighter as if he was trying to physically pull you out of your own head. His eyes scan over your face to search for any signs of discomfort, but they find none. You relax into his touch, sinking down closer into his chest, your faces inching closer towards each other. There’s a moment where you wonder if you were reading the room wrong, but when the hand that rests on your waist grips tighter to hold you closer as you descend toward his covered lips. His fingers grip tighter, possessive even, as if he doesn't want you to slip away like grains of sand through an hour glass. 

When your noses brush ever so slightly, you hesitate, giving him one last chance to back out. Your eyes flicker across his face, but all you find are his eyes on your lips. Subconsciously, your fingertips grip the fabric of his shirt a little tighter, perhaps to focus, perhaps to ground yourself and ensure this wasn't a dream. 

“...Inumaki?” His name leaves your lips with a whisper, a hopeful tilt that punctuates your question. 

His hand which was once pressing your own against his chest comes up to caress your cheek. He was so close, as close as he came into your dreams late at night when you fell asleep with your phone clutched into your palms. You can feel your chest rise as he takes a deep breath and releases it with a shaky exhale, his nerves alight and standing at your attention. With utmost caution, your hand comes up to the bridge of his nose, slowly, ever so slowly as if to warn him, shaky fingertips itching to pull the cotton mask and reveal his lips to you. 

Inumaki’s eyes widen for a split second as he pieces together what you want, his body goes rigid in a panic. All he can think of in that second is the flashes of memory just a few hours ago in his bathroom as he looked at himself and stared at his curse marks. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to stop this madness, to save himself from heartbreak for a mere moment of salvation against your lips. But maybe, just maybe you would accept him, perhaps you would question it fleetingly and then brush it off and accept. He knows over the months he’s known you that you would never cast him out of your life over the marks that branded him with a curse dipped in ink and blood. 

He feels your fingertip trace over his nose, down towards his cupid bow to trace the outline of his lips beneath the fabric of his mask, moving over to trace his cheeks. It felt as though you were committing the outline of his face to memory, appreciating him as an artist would to a long crafted marble sculpture. He feels the hair on his arms stand at attention with the motion, his body shivering at the contact, finally letting himself feel you as well. The hand that possessively grips your waist takes on a mind of his own, giving one final squeeze to your waist before sliding up and following the curve of your spine, his breath catching in his throat when he feels the way you writhe underneath his touch. 

The sound of his heart drums in his ears and drowns out any sound in the room as he feels your finger hook over his mask and he wonders if you can hear how heavy his chest is heaving right now. What should he do? You’ve given him plenty of time to turn away, but he’s dug his grave and is happy to lie down in the dirt, stripped and bare and flayed away into his most vulnerable state. He surrenders, relaxing into the heavy cushions while holding you for dear life, feeling the fabric of his mask rake down his nose slowly, his eyes closing to let you take control.

Down

Down

Milimeter by milimeter,

The tip of his nose

The warmth of your lips beckon closer

The beat of his heart

BZZZZZZZRT–

The both of you jump as if you were burned. The tension in the room is cut abruptly by his phone buzzing incessantly in his pocket 

“Sujiko!” Inumaki curses sharply as he fishes his phone from his pocket in haste, keeping a hand on your back as he grabs the offending device and throws it on the ground. He looks to you apologetically, a worry in his brow that makes your heart clench. 

“It’s okay!” It takes a moment to get your bearings and adjust from the once heavy atmosphere. You try your best to keep your tone as light as possible so as not to disturb the delicate situation. The offending device buzzes to life once again against the carpet, both of you looking in the direction of the sound. 

“Maybe it’s important.” You gather considering the time between the first and second ring.

It was. Inumaki felt it as a sixth sense. Considering the time and frequency of the attempted contact. He moves to grab his phone, trying to ignore the way he misses your warmth against him when you pull away and sit on the opposite side of the couch. 

“Kelp?” Inumaki’s greeting is cut short as the speaker blares to life with what sounds like the panicked voice of Yuuji. He jumps and pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment to adjust to the new level of sound berating his ear.

You can only hear bits and pieces of the conversation, something about an emergency and he was needed now, something about an apology between the muffled sounds of whatever background noise was present before Inumaki’s surprised eyes widen as he stands up sharply, muttering a few intelligible safe words that you were too distracted to attempt to translate. He hangs up the phone and stands still for a moment, a thousand mile stare at a crossroads before he turns to you with a saddened look in his eye and presses a longing thumb into your cheek, like he’s apologizing for the mishap, soon turning back to his phone to send a text.

Fish 4 brains 9:37pm

I’m so sorry

It was Yuuji. There’s a work emergency. I need to go. 

You read the message as soon as you hear your phone buzz against the coffee table. 

“I understand.” You begin, still trying to get your own bearings back. “I didn’t hear much but it sounded important. Go, don’t worry about me.” You manage a pained smile to ensure he didn’t feel any guilt. 

Inumaki pockets his phone, making a move to head towards the door before abruptly stopping himself, turning heel back to you, pulling you off the couch with haste and locking you into a tight hug. You relax into him after the initial shock melts away from your bones and lean into his touch, sighing as his finger rubs between your shoulder blades and his face nuzzles into your hair before parting a quick wordless good bye. He opens the door, stopping a moment to look over his shoulder to you before slamming it shut in a hurry. 

The empty room echoes silence louder than you’ve ever felt in your life.

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

And Then I Met You 𓂃𓈒 ꨄ︎

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Series Tags • strangers to lovers • slowburn • neighbors au • hurt/comfort • fluff & smut • Chapter Tags tooth rotting fluff, tension, pining idiots, alcohol consumption Word Count: 6.2k a/n: Awwww yeah, we get relationship building. Listen, you ever make yourself giggle when you write? yeah hueheuheue. We're also gonna amp it up next chapter until it... well. You'll find out. Enjoy!

Inumaki holds the door open, a slight bow in his stance as you enter with a soft click of the door shutting behind. With the rest of the party now departed late into the night, the atmosphere shifts as you stand alone with him in his own apartment. Despite the hours shared over the evening it feels different, there’s no longer the buffer of his friends to ease the tension in the room or provide comfort in translation or transition any awkward silence. Still, despite the empty room it feels homely, Inumaki rests a gentle hand on your shoulder in thanks as you scan the room and begin a plan to clean up most effectively. 

“Where are your trash bags?” 

He responds by stepping in front of you with a small wave to lead you into the kitchen. Considering you had spent the entire night within the confines of his living room, it felt as though each step down the hall was a descent to peer even deeper into his life, looking around and scanning the hall and rooms was like peeling away another layer of paint in an old house, revealing past memories and personality from each year. Upon entering the kitchen, he points to the cabinet under the sink, but what grabs your attention is several jasmine plants lining the windowsill above the sink, its long long leaves fully lush and spilling over the plots with brilliant white blossoms glowing against their verdant counterparts.. 

There’s a soft poke against your cheek that grabs your attention.

“Mustard leaf?” Inumaki asks as his hand retreats slightly back, bent at the wrist with his finger remaining at a slight point.

The pieces fall into place. That night– the first night you moved in. A slow grin spreads across your features as if you just solved a years long cold case. 

“It was you.” Is all you say, the weight of your words carrying all the evidence you’ve only pieced together in your mind. Inumaki's brows dropped into an unimpressed expression. 

“Okaka.”

“You so vehemently deny it, but I didn’t even tell you what I was accusing you of!” The ‘gotcha’ moment is interrupted with a sharp pinch to your cheek brought on by Inumaki who rolls the skin in between his thumb and index finger, stretching it and wiggling with a playful scold as you desperately try to wriggle out of his iron grasp. 

He’s unwavering, the shake of his shoulders gives away his amusement as he steps around to guide you in a circle. It takes a half beat to get your bearings back but if he was going to fight dirty, so were you. With nimble fingertips, you land a precision strike underneath his arms and dig, scrunching your fingertips back and forth with fervor. You can hear him mutter something sharp under his breath as he brings his arms down and jolts in a panic, bringing your cheek with him with the movement, but you don’t relent. No, you continue your onslaught as he wriggles and writhes trying to keep his strength. His step falters, falling against the countertop when he finally acquiesces and releases your cheek in order to grab your hands to pin them at his sides. 

From this angle, you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath. You can nearly count each eyelash and see how they brush the apples of his cheeks and smell the faint lingering of his body wash. He’s warm and firm while you can feel every ridge of his torso pressed against the soft flesh of your stomach, and the way his fingers interlace with your own spark a flurry of burning embers in your gut– ‘Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?’  Is the only thought that buzzes in your mind. Inumaki looks down at you, his violet irises shine in the lowlight and beckon you closer. What was this feeling? It wrapped around you and tugged ever so slightly, as if it were a gentle coax toward the edge of a cliff. 

Inumaki tries to steady his breaths– can she feel how fast my heart is beating? He feels suffocated, not just by his scarf but with how goddamn close you are, he sees the way your lips pout, the innocent quirk of your brow, how soft you feel and the way your hair frames your face like you were a centuries long painting hung in a museum. He knows he shouldn’t let himself feel this way, but it would be a lie to himself if he said he wasn’t a little selfish. Just a few more moments of contact, a few precious seconds of remembering how you feel against him before he helps you back onto your feet at a safe distance away. 

He observes how you blink a few times before reorienting yourself. An inkling of guilt seeps into his chest. Or maybe... Maybe it’s regret. He notes the cold that fills the empty space where you once were but elects to brush it off.

“You left me those chopsticks and flowers when I moved in. I was confused at first but it was a godsend. I was having the worst day–well, the worst couple of weeks. Thank you, Inumaki.” Emotion threatens to spill over your eyes, but it’s kept in check by willpower alone. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it's the hours you’ve spent getting to know him a bit more intimately, but you don't fight the urge to hug him. 

Inumaki’s eyes widen at the sudden initiative to make contact, after a brief pause he melts into your touch, dragging his hands slowly from the small of your back up to the expanse of your shoulder blades before securing you tight and breathing in deeply. His head comes down to rest on top of yours, he cherishes the way you feel against him in those moments before you part again to continue your earlier assigned task, he watches you kneel to grab the trash bags and give him a sweet smile before disappearing into the living room. 

Quick work is made of the stray cans lining the table, along with miscellaneous wrappers and plastic trash. Soon Inumaki appears with a few rags and a spray bottle to wipe the table and handle the little debris. There’s little jests and pokes exchanged between you two as he fluffs and readjusts the couch cushions while you idly dust various surfaces and not too long after the living room sparkles as if the past events never happened. There's a smile that burns your cheeks as you walk into the kitchen to dispose of the leftover trash, and you giggle when you realize how comfortable you feel in Inumaki’s space, especially when you mindlessly wipe down the counters of his kitchen and pick up a few stray items to put back in the fridge. Just as you open it, you spot two leftover beers sitting on the cooled shelf, the plastic ring that packaged them together has four empty holes where the last drinks were taken. 

“Hey, Inumaki–” You beckon, turning your head and startling when you discover he’s merely a few paces behind you– quiet footsteps, that one. 

“Oh, there's two drinks left. That’s a sign!” You free the remaining cans from their plastic rings before popping the tab and hearing the hiss of carbonation before handing him one. 

His eyes look at you fondly, a low unspoken mirth shining in his eyes. He grabs the can and quickly fishes his phone out of his pocket with his free hand, quickly typing a message with a single thumb with ease. Your phone vibrates shortly after.

fish 4 brains 10:39 pm

Is this another ploy to see my face? :P ur not slick 

You gawk at the text, using the open can to hide the heat flushing your face at his blatant accusation. Sure, there was that little stunt he pulled earlier, but it was easy to brush that off with some comfortable denial as it could have been a coincidence before now. 

“Okay– first of all–”

“Sujiko~” Inumaki leans on the counter and rests his head on relaxed knuckles, his attention fully tuned in. You falter for a moment.

“I–” You pinch at the bridge of your nose and laugh as you attempt to defend yourself, but he has you backed into a corner. “Okay fine!” You toss your hands in defeat. “But can you blame me?”

“Okaka.” He pats your head like a stray cat. 

A fond smile graces your cheeks. It truly is a wonder why he does what he does, and the evening certainly led to more questions than answers, but his friends seemed perfectly content with his situation, but it’s hard to not wonder the actual reason. Was it scars? Was he injured? Or maybe he had some sort of disability. You make a mental note to do a few google searches later, but quickly toss the idea aside as it feels like a violation of privacy. He’s shown you plenty of grace from the moment you met, and the least you could do was extend the same to him. 

“Cheers!” You hold your drink out, Inumaki’s gaze flickers over you for a moment, a quiet suspicion growing quietly in his eyes before you turn around and drink slowly, letting the long gulps of alcohol coat your throat. 

Inumaki freezes, a subtle breath caught within his throat. He recognizes the olive branch, but it’s the way you so easily accommodate him without a second thought that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. He was fully prepared to redirect your attention away from him, as he always did his entire life. It was a sport he came to play with ease over the years, to carve out chunks of himself and package them in a more accommodating package for the sake of others and for the sake of human connection. But he realized in that moment that it was never a chore with you, in fact it seemed to come naturally. It gave him an excuse to connect even if it was at his expense, and if he admitted it, he wanted any excuse to touch or talk to you more. But now he was standing in that room with someone that not only took it in stride, but turned around and sewed the missing pieces back into their rightful place with a smile on their face. 

After a moment of clarity he mirrors you and turns to drink with you. The silence is loud, he wonders if he should turn back around, but then he feels the warmth of your back pressed against his. His shoulders tense, looking off to the side to see that you’re leaning comfortably against him with your eyes directed at the wall in front of you, with your drink held with a relaxed stance. He watches you take another sip before finally speaking. 

“I had fun tonight.”

He relaxed into your touch, tugging down the thick layers of his scarf and taking a breath of fresh air before drinking.

“Salmon?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the reminder of how you learned his first word.. “You’re friends are fun too.” 

He pulls his phone out and types a quick message, and you pull your phone out at the sensation of the vibration that alerts you. 

fish 4 brains 10:44 pm

they’re your friends now too:) I’m glad you had fun

“Am I officially inaugurated into the cool kids club? I’m honored.”

You can hear him chuckle, it’s quiet but has that same air of gravel and softness as his speaking voice, but carries a soft breeze that tickles your eardrums. It carries into your head and floats down your spine and all you can think is how you want to hear it more. So you talk, you talk and talk and respond to his little words of affirmation or negation, occasionally checking your phone for more complex thoughts that he provides. You’re still back to back, now slouching against one another sitting on the kitchen floor as you exchange easy conversation, supplying little head pats or reaching behind to poke the other side jokingly. Once the cans are empty and stray burps are exchanged with giggles you finally check the time. It's nearly midnight. 

A heavy sigh exits your lungs, only slightly cringing when you realize it comes out louder than you intended, but fuck, you really didn’t want the time to end. 

“Mustard leaf?” You can hear the faint shuffle of fabric as inumaki turns his attention back toward you while adjusting his scarf. That's a new one, you think, but it feels familiar, and the cadence of his voice and body language you can feel shift against you tells that he may be asking if everything is alright. 

“Yeah, it’s just late. I gotta work tomorrow. But I’m having fun. I should call in tomorrow.”

Inumaki turns around, clasping your shoulders to face him. 

“Ikura!” He leaves one hand clasped on your shoulder while the other wags a finger at you.

“That’s a new one.” You giggle, brushing off his chiding, “Are you scolding me?” 

“Salmon!”

“Okaka!” You point a finger right back at him, the alcohol currently coursing through your veins fires a new wave of confidence in yourself, using his own vocabulary against him. Satisfaction blooms into your chest when you see him falter and look at you with a shocked expression.

“Yeah mother fucker, I speak Inumkai!” You exclaim proudly with a puff in your chest. 

“Tsuna? Tusuna mayo? Mentaiko!!” A small fire burns in his expression as he matches your energy. 

“Uhhh…” Well, that was all new. There's some body language and tone you can decipher but it remains muddled, and it’s not like there's a duolingo of Inumaki you could study, but nonetheless you take it in stride. 

“Yeah!! …That!!” 

You’re taken slightly off guard when Inumaki keels over and laughs– really laughs, from the belly. It flutters prideful butterflies that erupt from your throat in pace with him, only jumping back a pace when he once again pinches your cheek. Your hand clasps over his own when you weakly try to pry him off of you. 

“Stop, you’re being mean and I’m tired! I’m about to pass out actually. What then?!”  You challenge. 

He looks at you with a small tilt to his head before he once again pulls out his phone to send a quick message. 

fish 4 brains 11:52 pm

I’d just carry you back to your bed and tuck you in. Easy work.

“Easy work?” You parrot in disbelief. “You’re not much bigger than me, I doubt it.”

The challenge is easily accepted as he looks you up and down, almost as if he’s bargaining with himself while also sizing you up before he puts his phone into his pocket and lunges at you. In an instant, your body is freed from the ground, you can feel a firm shoulder pressed into your belly while Inumaki lifts you up with ease, he holds your arm in one hand while your torso rests across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He makes a show of spinning you around a few paces while you laugh and smack his chest before he nearly drops you. You shriek at the sudden gravity but firm hands come around the small of your back and thighs as he adjusts you into a bridal carry. 

It’s difficult to ignore the distance, with your noses nearly brushing. But the silence is soon cut short when he nods toward the door and shifts your weight to grip the door knob and carry you across the hall. The cadence of his steps lull you into sleep, only fighting the feeling when he taps you on the shoulder to fish the keys out from your pocket to unlock the door. He kicks the door closed before carrying you into your room, grabbing your hand which was once strung across your neck and interlacing his fingers before dropping you gently onto the mattress and tucking you in. 

“Goodnight Inumaki.” You whisper fondly, Inumaki ruffles your hair and lets his hand fall against your cheek before turning heel and softly clicking the door shut with his own version of a parting. Once you hear the soft echo of the front door lock rotating into the locked position before shutting, you fish your phone out to plug into the bedside charger. Hesitant fingers hover over the screen, wondering if you should send him one last text in fear of seeming overbearing or clingy, but you push that thought aside before sending one last message.

11:57pm

Goodnight:)

Almost instantaneously you see a bubble pop up on the screen, indicating Inumaki has read and was replying

Fish 4 brains 11:57pm

Good night:) I’ll make sure you’re awake tomorrow 

You roll over when you read his message, gripping the blanket and pulling it over the lower half of your face to hide the giddiness that bubbles up your throat despite being alone in your room under no scrutiny. But oddly, you felt vulnerable and did it anyway and in that moment you wonder if that raw vulnerability was the reason why Inumaki covered his face for the same reason. A saddened frown tugs at the corner of your mouth as you think about the possible reasons that could of led Inumkai to the man he is today, despite him having a kind heart and jovial disposition past his indifferent facade, but you soon shake the thought from your head, not wanting to mentally pry into his possible past. 

Instead you opt to send a quick thanks before finally resigning your phone to its rightful nightly pace on your nightstand before turning over and wriggling under the warm sheets, replaying the night you spent with him in your head– and maybe just maybe replaying a few of your favorite hits over and over again before letting the heavy comfort of sleep beckon you into blissful dreams. 

—--- ♡ —---

The sharp ring of your alarm cuts your walk in dreamland short, jolting out of bed to quickly silence the offending sound while looking at the time. You had some to spare, your eyes heavy and head begging to split itself open. What would just a few more minutes be? Sleep beckons you back underneath the warmth of the sheets to drown into drowsiness. It's only when the vibration of your phone buzzing into the mattress do you shoot out of bed, suddenly hyper aware of how long you may have fallen back asleep. 

fish 4 brains - 1 min ago

You dont sound like ur awake yet

He was a man true to his word, and he seemed to have a small grip on your morning routine which elated you, you type a quick reply while rushing out of bed and ignoring the split in your skull before you really ruminate on his words.

I am now! Thanks!

Wait, what do you mean it doesn’t sound like it? 

Your finger hovers over the send button before you decide to tack on a quick to the end lol so it didn’t sound so short. As you flip the shower handle on hot and quickly strip yourself of your pajamas you check your phone once more. 

fish 4 brains - 1 min ago

The walls are thin and you like loud music:p

It’s not bad though

Your finger pauses over the speaker power button, embarrassment overtaking the curves of your face. Shit, you hadn’t really thought about that, it’s not like you cranked the volume, but you hadn’t taken into account the thinness of the walls and now you're wondering just how many enemies you’ve made inadvertently. You decide to shelve that thought for later, opting out of music since you were behind schedule anyway and cut your shower time in half, moving after to dry your hair and get dressed. It may be a good idea to get something into your stomach, but exhaustion lingers behind your eyes, and paired with a low pulsing headache you decide to skip breakfast and just make it out the door. 

“Oh!” 

You jolt when you open the door, being greeted by the sight of Inumaki. He’s wearing baggy black cargo pants with a fitted white tee, layered with a large zip up jacket that hangs off his shoulders. A scarf is foregoed and instead the original black face mask you saw when you first met adorns his face, looping over his ears and obscuring him from the nose down to chin, but you can see the outline of his lips and nose poke through the fabric. It’s hard not to scrutinize every clue of his face in order to piece together what he looks like. 

“Mustard leaf.” Inumaki greets you with a small wave as he leans against his door, was he waiting for you again?

“Mustard leaf!” You yelp while mirroring his greeting motion, silently cursing yourself. “I mean, good morning! Sorry, I'm a bit tired.” 

Nervous laughter escapes you at the mishap, which is soon soothed by a comforting ruffle of your hair by Inumaki. He holds out a water bottle and a few pills you recognize as headache medication– he came prepared. Relief washes over you, a hidden savior hidden in the form of hydration and little compressed terracotta-colored pills.

A wide smile overtakes your cheeks, it’s useless to try to bite it back.

“You’re so good to me.” You take his offerings and toss your head back as you swallow.

A gentle pinch to your cheek is given by Inumaki as he looks at you with warm half lidded eyes.

“Salmon.”

Your fingers itch to touch his, giving into the feeling and letting your hand rest against his own against your cheek. It’s comforting, like a heavy blanket laid across your chest on a crisp winter day, it’s heat ghosting over your cheeks as you lean into his touch, soon giving the back of his hand a friendly jostle to disguise your longing as platonic. 

“Thank you. I can now get through work because of you.” You offer a parting goodbye wave as you begin to step away from him when all of a sudden he begins to match your rhythm. 

Your heart rhythm begins to quicken in pace as his footsteps begin to match pace with your own down the hall. Is he walking you to work? Surely not, it's the weekend and if you remember correctly he worked a regular teaching job and should be off work on a saturday. Perhaps he was going the same way. All the possible scenarios simmer in your mind, curiosity thrums in your spine trying to justify his presence because surely he wasn't there just for you. How could he be? You were just some ex-corporate jockey freshly laid off and trying to rebuild your career and find your place in the world, someone of little importance. 

It’s all too much, the what ifs and various scenarios, anxiety begins to beg an answer.

“Are you going the same way? You don't work today right?”

Inumaki briefly glances at you, his lavender eyes scanning over your face before focusing back on the scenery in front of you. 

“Tsuna mayo, tuna tuna.”

Right. The intonation was there, so was the context. But it wasn't nearly enough to decipher a complete sentence. But it’s like he anticipated that, because he’s pulling out his phone and typing a quick message. 

fish 4 brains - 1 min ago

It is my day off, i dont have anywhere to be

Another buzz vibrates your hand as you read his next message 

i figured i’d walk you to work, after all im the reason why ur late to begin with

Another message graces your screen before you can reply, as if he can sense your hesitation.

Plus, I want to:)

He wanted to. He wanted to spend time with you, there was no denying that fact as he so bluntly proclaimed. There was no room for justification or minimizing your presence next to him; still, caution whispered in your ear when you were ready to accept the fact that he wanted to be around you as much as you wanted to be around him. So with a warm smile you fall in stride with him, down the hallway and around the stairs until the fresh morning breeze dances around your hair.

Inumaki is relieved when you accept his self-invitation. Doubt had begun to dig into his mind when he awoke that morning and checked his phone first thing, it was early, and his finger hovered over the keyboard wondering if he was being too much at once. Sure, the alcohol had made him confident by the end of the night, and you had seemed to warm up to him as much as he had you, but that could also be chalked up to liquid courage, and now that it had faded over the night he worried you would have a change of heart. He had argued with his friends on the way home from that fateful coffee shop meeting, but only half-heartedly since he longed to see you in more than passing flashes past the hallway. Shit, he didn’t even have the courage to come collect you himself, ultimately leaving Maki and Yuuji to do the work.

But it had worked out in his favor, the simmering anxiety that had signed his nerve endings when you first walked past the doorway and settled in was soothed by the safe buffer his friends had provided. A safety net really, and now that they were gone and he was an unchaperoned 28 year old man without a translator the growing silence made him more uneasy with each passing step. He knew what he was getting himself into when he readied the care package of hydration and pain management, but still, his feet carried him with a mind of their own, selfishly wanting to test the waters now that you were more acquainted and aware of his… quirks. 

That doesn’t solve the problem presented to him at this moment, though. Walking down the sidewalk wasn’t much different than the once or twice-off times you had gone the same way but yet it felt different. New, a step closer than passing neighbors, a budding relationship with an undefined form that beckoned a higher expectation than mere comfortable silence. 

“Do you have any plans today?”

Inumaki looks at you, you’re wearing a curious and relaxed smile, not a hint of awkwardness or pity in sight that he was used to back in school during the sister school exchange programs. He looks around at the sky a moment in thought before humming.

“Salmon, tsuna mayo.” He gestures his thumbs as if he's holding a controller, then changing pace to mimic a running motion right after.

“Games? That sounds fun, I never had time with my previous job. Now that I've been demoted to a lowly barista, and you all graciously helped me unpack my entire house… maybe I'll teach myself to play a few.” Your tone is playful with the self depreciation, but Inumaki doesn’t take kindly to it.

“Okaka.” He chops a hand on top of your scalp with a scold before he pulls out his phone.

fish 4 brains - 7:16 am

All service jobs are important

Everyone needs coffee… especially the desk jockeys. Or did you forget about that looking so high up from your throne lol

“That’s!” You flounder for a moment. “That’s not what I meant.”

You can hear a quiet but amused chuckle that was muffled by his mask that you’re almost willing to be annoyed about, if it didn’t sound so goddamn entrapturing. God, with how little you hear his voice you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

“Anyway–” You feign annoyance as the coffee shop sits in front of you. “Care for a coffee? It’s on me, it’s the least I can do.”

Inumaki stares at you a moment, a hard to read expression, ever the stoic half covered man.

“Let me send you on your way with a little treat.” You open the door and hold it open for him. “You deserve it.”

And so you did, sending him off with his usual drink you embarrassingly remembered from the morning before with a friendly goodbye. You still remember your coworkers teasing you later on that day for being spaced out and checking your phone more often than usual before quickly denying any change in routine while turning around to hide the burn gracing the tips of your ears. In fact, you had sent him a quick picture of a latte art you did later in the afternoon that you were fairly proud of, having practiced the simple skill over the time you had worked, perking up minutes later when you feel your phone vibrate in your apron when he replied back with a amused ‘oooooooh shit leonardo davinci who??’

Over the next weeks the texts become more frequent, and your routine of walking to work is almost always paired with Inumaki in tow right behind you. What began with shy peeks through the peephole to time a sudden coincidence became deliberate texts morning and night, with sparse ones in between the high hours of afternoon when both of your schedules were the busiest. It was second nature to know each other's routines with the close proximity and budding friendship, texting a quick ‘nice run, you look like shit’ to Inumaki when you looked through the peephole on schedule and saw him arrive at his door in a huff laced in sweat, to which he would toss back a quit witted ‘How was Mr. Yagami today?’ That one cut deep, the bane of your existence, the old man that came in the same day of the week and always complained of his drink being made wrong. You’d get him back later for that.

Except you didn't, instead taking more of his teasing in jest, even going so far as to give him the same cheek pinch he always gave you paired with a few lasting touch filled swats to his chest and shoulders. He had become a constant in your life, a confidant on bad days and eager ear on your good days. Busy schedules didn’t mean a lack of communication, instead little texts were exchanged daily, half of the time not even carrying a true conversation but instead would include random pictures of scenery, packed lunches, and other random encounters throughout the day. Sometimes he would tell you about his students, and you would tell him about the crazier interactions in customer service. The morning walks continued on days where your work schedules intersected, and on his evening runs you would ask him to pick a missing ingredient up on his way back since you were familiar with his route, considering you tried– and failed– to accompany him one week… yeah, you never did that again. 

Another Friday shift comes around before you know it, the weeks blending into each other as routine continues. High noon shines brightly through the windows of the cafe while the crowd dies down considering most people are at work. While cleaning the coffee machines and restocking you glance at your phone, no new notifications. Maybe you’ll find something to send to him, you find yourself looking for more excuses to talk to Inumaki lately, even jumping at any vibration that graces your thigh. You go to pocket the device back into your apron when all of a sudden it buzzes, ignoring the way you jump and snatch it back into view to see what it was. 

fish 4 brains 12:43pm

photo

It’s like he senses you, surprised at his text that graces your screen when he’s normally quiet. With excited fingers you press on the photo to open it larger across the screen. You gasp when your eyes land on it. It’s him– a selfie where he’s looking at the camera with unimpressed eyes that contradict his peace sign that touches his cheek, in the background you can see chaos unfolding; in the far background you can see an unnamed student lying on the ground with a pained expression, his limbs sprawled out as he lays on his stomach and Maki of all people stands on his back with a long poled weapon touching the back of his neck. She wears an expression of irritation and scolding while Yuuta is seen off to the side with a worrisome expression and placating hands raised as if he was trying to mediate a peaceful resolution. Next to Inumaki and slightly off camera you recognize Yuuji who looks at the camera with his signature bright smile and thumbs up, and off to the side cut off from the camera you peek at someone you don't recognize; a short ginger bob graces the camera, only her desaturated indigo uniform cladding shoulder and arm is in frame

The restocked items are abandoned off to the side as you lean against the nearest wall and stare at your phone, it feels like an intimate glance into his life, as if you were standing right next to him and submerged into frame. All the sparse pictures that were exchanged previously were simple things taken from the capturers perspective; food, scenery and the likes but never from the onlookers perspective. It was like there was a new invisible boundary that you had just crossed unexpectedly. Your eyes stick to the picture, glazing over each detail over and over and giggling to yourself. Excited fingers hover over the text keyboard as they hastily type a reply.

You - 1 min ago

What the hell are you subjecting that poor student to!! 

What are you even teaching in this school?! 

fish 4 brains - 12:45pm

Training exercises! Physical education or whatever:)

hang on

Ominious, you think. Judging by the contents of the photo you wouldn’t be surprised if another tussle broke out, but you also giggle to yourself thinking of scenarios. Maybe his student tried to sneak attack him while he was distracted on his phone talking to you, maybe he was busy pulling Maki off the poor boy or even instigating another round. After all, he did seem the type. You’ve learned over the weeks Inumaki is actually a bit of a menace. He’s funny, energetic, and more athletic and quick witted than you would guess upon first meeting. Truly, he’s the exact opposite of the quiet and reserved introvert you pegged him for long ago. But above all, he’s caring, and extremely observant.

He talks about his friends a lot, mentioning picking stuff up for them because they mentioned something off-handedly, there was even the time you had walked home together and he picked up on some very upset vibes from an awful work day, despite your best efforts to mask them. He didn’t say a word, just simply offered a gentle hand on your shoulder to reassure you before procuring some sweet treats from his work bag, placing them into your open palms and then pressing his thumbs into your cheeks to make you smile like one would with a child.

Six minutes later, your phone buzzes once more, pulling you out of your stroll down memory lane. 

fish 4 brains - 12:51pm

Sorry, my student tried to get the drop on me 

Like an idiot

Now im sitting on his back while he tells me what he's learned 

A loud, boisterous laugh leaves your lips before you can catch it, jolting at the decibel range that you just discovered you're capable of. You look over your shoulder to scan the near-empty cafe and shrink a bit when all eyes are on you. You bow awkwardly in apology, ever so slightly before turning around and going into the back where the pastries and extra stock were kept, away from prying eyes. Anxious fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt, picking it between your thumb  and forefinger to bring it in between your teeth to chew idly while you reply quickly.

You - 1 min ago

Well if you're gonna be dumb, you better be tough

fish 4 brains - 12:52pm

Sounds like Yuuji:p

He says hi

You laugh once more, imagining his sunny disposition leaned over Inumaki and reading his phone and eagerly requesting he tell you he says hi.

You - 1 min ago

Hi Yuuji!

Your eyes glance up to the time at the corner of your phone, silently cursing at the time passed. It would be too easy to shut yourself away and talk to Inumaki all day, and even though it was slower and the idea itself was tempting, it’s better to listen to the rational adult brain that sits in your skull no matter how much you want to abandon it to chase the butterflies that fluttered around your ribcage whenever you got to talk to him. With a huff, your  fingers make work of sending one last text before reluctantly pocketing the smooth glass back into the safe confines of your apron and walking back to the counter. 

You - 2 min ago

I gotta get going before your distractions get me in trouble, keep me updated though!

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

And Then I Met You 𓂃𓈒 ꨄ︎

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Series Tags • strangers to lovers • slowburn • neighbors au • hurt/comfort • fluff & smut • Chapter Tags fluff & humor, pining idiots, jjk cast guest appearance, drinking, canon divergence. Word Count: 5.7k a/n: Ooouuuuuu this was such a fun chapter to write, one of my favorites. Loved exploring the jjk cast as adults and playing paper dolls with them. We also get to see reader and Inumaki get closer:)

As the last few customers dwindle down toward the end of your shift, you wipe down the counters and breathe. It was nice to have less stress from the day to day, and the scent of fresh brewed coffee never grew old on your nose, but the lingering anxiety of getting back into an office job still gnawed on your ear. Despite the nice and mostly pleasant crowds of the countryside, donning an apron and name tag as a barista still ruffled the feathers of insecurity considering your age. As you restock the syrups and baked goods you make a deal with yourself to finally dust off your laptop and sift through the job listings again, a task you’ve been more than eager to avoid. Just as the last item is stocked you peer up to the wall clock and check the time, 15 more minutes until the end of your work day. Excellent, you can lean back and relax until–

Ding.

The door bell to the cafe sounds, signaling a customer walking past the threshold. A sharp inhale fills your lungs to try to soothe the minor irritation when you turn around. There's not one customer but a group of five nonetheless. 

“Welcome in!”

“Kelp!”

You pause, looking past all the new faces until your eyes land downward and you spot the familiar mop of ashen blonde hair. He’s standing farther back next to a timid and lanky but taller man with slicked back charcoal hair and bruised purple bags that hug his eyes, who’s looking at your neighbor with minor surprise. Standing in front of the pair are another two men, seemingly around the same age; one is taller and buff, but despite his intimidating frame he smiles brightly and has a blushed pink hairstyle that splashes against its dark brunette base. Quite the contrast to the one he stands next to, who is only a few inches shorter with shiny onyx hair that spikes out around his face, he looks bored– or perhaps quiet and reserved. Lastly, a woman. Striking in presence, as if power incarnate bled through her skin. She was tall, short emerald hair with broad shoulders and rippling muscles that swam down her arms and legs. She wore a scowl that would make any normal person scatter away, and her skin was littered with scars, from her face down to her neck and arms. 

“Oh! Hi there, It’s nice to see you again.” You smile despite feeling yourself physically shrink back into yourself. Why do you feel so embarrassed right now?

“It looks like you’ve brought some friends too.” Nervous eyes flicker across the crowd that seem to have all eyes on you.

“Huh? You know Inumaki?” The blush-haired one inquires with genuine curiosity.

Inumaki, huh? Cute. Still, you wanted to poke a little bit of fun, it was only fair.

“Inumaki?” You ask innocently.

The crowd simultaneously points to your favorite neighbor, who is currently sinking farther into his high collar and looking away. He mumbles something you can’t catch. 

“Oh! Yes, he’s my neighbor. I moved here recently and we’ve crossed paths quite a few times.”

“Oh- is she–” The timid brunette next to Inumaki starts before he hisses in pain and hops one one foot a few times, odd.

The gloomy raven-hair chimes in. “You’ve known her for how long and didn’t bother to exchange names?”

“He’s a man of few words.” You defend with a sly smile and shrug of your shoulders.

“Oh I like her, Inumaki where have you been hiding her?” The pink haired one jests to Inumaki’s chagrin. 

You look down into the tablet in an attempt to hide your smirk. “What can I get everyone?”

“I’d like a carmel frappucino, please!” The cheery sakura-haired announced brightly with a raised hand.

“Just a red eye coffee for me. Make it strong.” Says the emerald haired woman.

“Just a drip coffee. No room for cream or sugar.” The gloomy one says. Saw that coming.

“Two hot vanilla lattes for us, thank you.” The borderline anemic one chimes in last, ordering for himself an Inumaki. 

With fast fingers you type in the orders and provide the payment info, the scarred woman easily hands out a black card that you notice reads the name “Satoru Gojo,”  an odd name for a woman but almost fitting considering her femme fatale aura she seemingly oozes. You make quick work of making the drinks, knowing that your end of shift was nearing in minutes. Still, the large orders and differing arrays of ingredients still complicate things, but you don't mind it, you get to steal glances of inumaki in the corner of the shop with his friends. It’s like peeling back the curtain on his personal life, how he interacts with others. While it’s hard to tell if he speaks since he wears a mouth covering, you can tell by his body language he's more comfortable, his shoulders are relaxed with a watchful gaze, hes expressive in his brows as he admonishes those around him with wild gestations, and it makes you feel warm inside, if not a bit envious. 

It’s six minutes past the end of shift, not too bad considering the order size. You exchange end of shift notes with the next barista and assist in final clean up before taking off your apron and getting ready to head out. There's a minute pause in your step, questioning why you feel so reluctant to leave. You glance over and look at Inumaki and his party, once again taking in the sight of him in his natural state. Well, it wouldn't hurt to check in with him before you leave. You tuck your hair behind your ear and sling your bag over your shoulder as you approach your table.

“Hey there!” You begin with a customer-friendly smile. “I’m about to head home, is there anything you all need before I head out?”

The table exchanges glances before each one pipes up. Inumaki and the timid gloomy one exchange elbows with the pink haired sunshine one, the gloomy raven haired one seems to watch with an annoyance in his body language while the tall verdant haired woman rolls her eyes at the exchange.

“All good here.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Well–”

“You’re heading home?!” The extroverted rosey one inquires with urgency. “We’re all heading to Inumakis later, we’re having a get together, you should come!”

His words splash over you like a bucket of cold water. A party? At inumakis? You wouldn’t dare interfere, but to get an inside peek into his life and friends is tempting, but how would Inumaki himself feel about it? You glance over to him, there's a flushed dusting over his nose and cheeks, and a slight fiddle in his fingers when he adjusts his high collar, a habit you’ve clocked over the weeks of knowing him. 

“Well-” You writhe in your spot, feeling several eyes burn into your body in the spotlight. “I wouldn't be opposed– but I don’t want to impose. It was nice meeting all of you!” You rush out the door with a wave before anyone would rebuttal. 

Inumaki knew he fucked up when you left and all eyes were on him, sinister smiles stretching over predatory canines  as an onslaught of question burst around him. The minute he saw you across the counter he was shocked in more ways than one. On one hand, he was able to see you again, with your fleeting presence a scarcity he cherished the minutes he got to spend with you– hell, he even remembers earlier that day when he didn't see you. He remembers feeling embarrassed that he waited a moment, even going as far as to check his pockets awkwardly to ensure he didn't forget anything before going back inside to “grab something” before he came back out again, still to the sight of an empty hall. His fingers twitched when he dragged his feet molasses-slow down the corridor and looked behind one more time before he reached the stairwell– just to make sure you still weren't there before he just resigned himself to his whatever this childish feeling that erupted in his gut whenever he saw you and just waited. He remembers the relief when he played it off with a facetious admonishment scolding your lateness when you laughed brightly at him, riding that high throughout the day.

But now? Now his little secret was brought to light, ripped from the safety of his hands and out in the limelight of his friends. What was once a quiet reprieve and cherished moments that he was able to pocket away until the end of his cursed filled days was now subject to the messy meddling of his well-meaning friends. But the subject of his growing affection was a complicated matter; one made of crystal clear glass that could shatter at any misstep. 

A chorus of feet pitter-patter down the pavement before the silence is broken.

“So we're gonna talk about it?” Yuuta is the first to speak, his voice laced with caution.

“Okaka!”

“Yeah no! I was gonna ask the same thing!” Yuuji enthusiastically waves about. “I saw the way you looked at her!”

“We all did.” Megumi adds as he carelessly scrolls through his phone.

Maki laughs boisterously, throwing her head back. “Yeah we did, so you gonna grow a pair and invite her over?”

“Okaka!” He wanted to– so bad, to have you be a part of his world, his life, but it came with too many risks. It made his head dizzy when he thought about the risks.

A comforting clasp warmed his shoulder.

“Toge.” Yuuta speaks. “I know you must be worried. We don’t live normal lives, but you shouldn't lock yourself away.” He crafted his words carefully, still unsure of the true nature of his best friend's relationship with the mysterious pretty barista, but he saw how easily you spoke to him, and from what he could tell, how easily you accommodated his precarious speech, or lack there of. In those fleeting moments at the coffee shop he saw a small kindling crackling against the wind. 

“Alright! New friend! Let’s get some drinks at the store and head on over!” Yuuji declares, all fire and mirth. 

“Seems a bit skittish, though. I’ll make sure to go with Yuuji.” Maki declared with finality.

“Maki, you’re the last person that should accompany if a person is skittish. But I know you’re gonna do it anyway.” Megumi makes a good point.

Inumaki falls back and fiddles with the hem of his scarf with anxious fingers.

—--- ♡ —---

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you dump your bag next to the door and collapse on your couch. The long days stress collects at the base of your neck, which you roll to release the pressure and tip your head back past the cushions. As your eyelids slowly part to look at the ceiling you can’t help but to think back on Inumaki, as he was named. You laugh at it, weeks of his fleeting entrances and moments spent and finally a name was put with half his face. The ever mysterious man that flashes across the halls and extends a hand before dissipating in the mist like a dream. You think back to his group of friends, and how they sort of de-mystified him, a diverse crowd of timid, rambunctious, assertive. It’s a wonder how they all made their way into his life, how maybe you could make your way into his life. 

You shake your head to erase the wandering thoughts, bringing your hands to scrub at your face in admonishment. A change of pace would distract you from such adolescent fantasies, standing quickly up from your couch rotting to change out of your work clothes. Still, it was difficult at best not to let your mind wander as you moved into your room to change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. So much so in fact, you don’t register the commotion happening in the hall through the walls, and barely register the incessant knocking at your door. 

Wait. Knocking?

You jump when you register the sound, running to answer the door. Was it inumaki? Instead when you open the door you're greeted by the sight of a scarred woman who leans against your doorframe with fire in her eyes and a relaxed smirk, paired with the rambunctious bright eyed pink haired one who waves eagerly.

“We’re here to collect you.” The woman says easily.

“Don’t be scared of Maki, she’s friendly… in her own way!” The man meditates with a friendly but apologetic smile. “We mentioned a hang out, you’re coming, right?!”

“Uhhh…” It’s hard to find the right words while your mind races at a thousand miles an hour. 

“It’ll be fun!”

“You’re friendly with Inumaki, aren’t ya? What’s the problem?”

The incessant questions begin to weigh too much at once, not realizing that you're shrinking back into the safe confines of your apartment until Inumaki’s friends share a simultaneous look before smiling and reaching out to grab your shoulders to drag you across the hall. A cacophony of gentle refusals were met with enthusiastic rebuttals and you’re thrust past the threshold of the accompanying apartment that sat across from you.

It was neat, but homey. Clean but still lived in, lacking the sanitization your current homestead still held simple furniture that treasured comfort over aesthetics and held enough people for small get-togethers, and you wonder if this is a fairly common occurrence at Inumakis place. By the TV there sat a large bookshelf that was filled with various books and little knick knacks, the coffee table was organized with coasters and remotes, and there were a few pictures that hung on the walls next to some paintings. 

“We got her.” Maki states matter-of-factly.

“You’re too aggressive, Maki.” The nonchalant one scolds.

Inumaki nods sharply in agreement with the gloomy spikey haired man sitting next to him, before looking directly at you with an apologetic wave.

“Please! Have a seat!” The anemic looking one smiles warmly, he extends his hand out to the opposite side of the sectional to coax you. Wow, he was friendlier than he looks, you think.

With a bit of buzzing nerves and a splash of reluctance, you move to sit down. From this space, you have a clear view of Inumaki. His presence is what grounds you. 

“Alright!” The sakura haired one claps loudly with a smile while finding his way back onto the couch. “Introductions! I’m Yuuji Itadori.” He declares loudly before continuing down the line. 

“That's Megumi Fushiguro! My best friend!” He points to the spikey haired gloomy one.

“Next to him is Maki Zenin, but don't ever call her by her last name or you’ll lose your head!” Ominous, but noted.

“Next to her is Yuuta Okkotsu! Don’t let him fool you, he’s super strong! And has a heart of gold!” Awww, that’s cute. This Itadori guy really cares for his friends, showing them off like a child rehearsing for show and tell.

“Yuuji! That’s weird to say…” Yuuta rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, shying away from the limelight Yuuji was currently shining brightly on him.

“Oh! And he finally got together with Maki last year! Boy, nearly 9 years of watching those two pine after one anoth– AUGH!” Yuuji’s praise is cut short with a sharp chop to the top of his head from Maki. 

“You idiot!”

“It’s rude to air people's business, Yuuji.” Fushiguro admonishes without looking at him. 

“I- I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, dear. Cut him some slack.” Yuuta attempts to conciliate with placating outstretched palms and worry in his brow. 

It was comical, watching the scene fold out in front of you. You observe how each one of Inumaki's friends speak, their mannerisms and words, which part each one played in the webbed relationship of Inumaki, they were like a well oiled machine, each moving part serving a purpose. You smile fondly. But as if the crowd can sense your curious gaze they all pause simultaneously and turn their attention to you. Oops.

“What about you?” Fushiguro asks with curiosity. 

“Yeah! Tell us about yourself.”

“You’re tense. Have a drink.” Maki is shoving a canned alcoholic drink into your hands with purpose, she moves her index finger over the tab to pop it open as she hands it to you, leaving no room for refusal.

“Oh!” You take the drink with two hands, a slight bow in your neck as thanks before taking a sip and letting the sharp taste over take your tongue and warm your throat. “Well, uh…”

It’s a bit difficult, being put on the spot so suddenly, anything you knew about yourself seemed to vanish with a puff of smoke as you tip your head back to think desperately.

“...Your name?” Maki asks.

“Right!” You supply your full name to the onlooking group, continuing on. “I just moved in two weeks ago. I used to live in central Tokyo but uh, due to unforeseen circumstances I’m here now. “ You’re unsure how to disclose the nature of your work life.

“What happened?!” Yuuji asks with passionate curiosity.

“Yuuji, that’s rude. She would have said so if she was comfortable.” Fushiguro scolds his excited best friend. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s just excitable.” He looks at you to signal he’s now speaking to you directly.

“Oh! I don’t mind at all.” You have another sip of your drink to soothe your nerves. “I actually find it a bit endearing.”

While you're speaking to Fushiguro, you don’t see Inumaki’s surprised expression, or how the tension in his shoulders seem to dissipate. In fact, you don't see how he sinks into the couch in comfort as he watches you easily blend into his friend group as you make effortless conversation with those around him. Laughs are shared with a group clink of cans to cheers before sipping greedily at the alcohol. 

Wait. Drinking. What a fortuitous opportunity. People have to have their faces exposed to drink, you think. This is my opportunity to see Inumaki's full face! You sink yourself lower into the couch cushions as you take a breath to steady yourself, wanting to play it cool as not to show your hand. While the party seems to continue their conversation, your eyes keep drifting to Inumaki. He sits comfortably, one leg strung across his knee while holding his drink against the seat cushion as he watches on absorbing his friends' conversation. He seems perfectly content listening, but he has to take a drink eventually. You attempt to focus your eyes on the rest of the group periodically so it didn't seem like you were hyper focused on him, but you caught glimpses of him eyeing his drink here and there. There was an anxious feeling, butterflies flapping their wings incessantly against your gut when there was any subtle signal of him possibly revealing his full face to take a sip of his drink. But it never came. 

There were times he would bring his hand to pinch at his scarf to bring it down, clenching your body in anticipation before he relaxed when someone would look at him to give an affirmation or negative to the conversation. Other times when his hand raised and you steadied yourself you'd only find disappointment when his hand came past his mouth to wrap behind his ear to shield a cough. Irritation began to brew in your stomach, simmering and bubbling over into your throat with each passing minute. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“I just got to say.” You interject with adoration as you look into the crowd. “Thank you, I haven't been able to make friends since I was laid off from my previous job. And you’ve all been welcoming, even dragging me from my apartment with force.” You giggle while you look at Maki and Yuuji, while Inumaki seems to shoot up from his seat to disappear into another room. Shit. Well, you’re already on your soapbox. So you continue. 

“S-so… I’d like to have a toast. To new friends.”

“I’ll cheer for that!” Yuuji exclaims.

“I can agree to that.” Maki goes to grab her can.

“Me too!” Yuuta agrees, while Fushiguro smiles softly and wordlessly grabs his own drink. Inumaki, with inexplicable timing re-appears and sits down. Oh good, he’s back. Relief washes over you like cool ocean waves crashing over sand banks, thinking you had previously scared him off. Everyone in the living room grips their drinks and crashes them over the coffee table with gusto, aluminum cans thumping with a dull sound while liquid spills over from each opening and mixes with each other before spilling over the coffee table. 

“Cheers!” The party resounds in a chorus before bringing each drink to their lips and sipping greedily. Your eyes are fixed on Inumaki, waiting for his next move. Watchful eyes bore holes into his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls a plastic straw before placing it into his drink, with careful fingers he aims the straw in between the layers of his scarf without revealing his face, sipping his drink with ease in tandem with everyone else. Are you fucking kidding me?! Lavender irises meet your own in that moment, locked into your gaze across the room as if no one else fills the empty space. You jolt at the sudden eye contact, subconsciously denting the aluminum can you hold as you watch Inumaki bring the drink away from his scarf without breaking eye contact. His eyes swirl with amusement and he winks at you.

The burning sense of alcohol thrusts up back into your throat against your tongue as you gawk at his shameless expression that challenges you. There’s a slight, satisfied smirk that swims below the surface of his scarf that no one can see while concerned onlookers pat at your back to unclog the offending liquid that collects at the bottom of your lungs. 

“You alright?” Yuuji asks with concern while he continues patting your back.

Heat flushes across your cheeks and burns at the tip of your ears at your mishap, in front of Inumaki and his friends no less. You shield your face with a folded arm to recover and lick the wounds to your pride while thinking of a way to take the attention off you.

“I’m fine–” you manage in between coughing fits, struggling to fight the itching sensation in your lungs. “Wrong pipe.” You state while wiping a stray tear from your lash line.

“Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask… How did you all meet Inumaki?” Your eyes scan the crowd.

“We all went to high school together!” Yuuji beams. “Megumi and I were a year behind Maki, Yuuta, and Inumaki, so technically they’ve known him a bit longer. But only a smidge!”

“Yeah he’s still as annoying now as he was then.” Maki snorts while taking a sip of her drink.

“Salmon.”

Salmon? You’ve heard that before, without thinking your face shoots immediately towards Inumaki, not necessarily by his strange choice of word but rather because you’re simply not used to hearing his voice. A fluttering sensation occurs deep in your gut, it must be the alcohol. The group must have caught on to your curiosity, because Yuuta of all people stepped in.

“That’s right, not many people outside of our group really talk to Inumaki, he’s a bit of a shut in. He…” He momentarily glances at his friend to ensure he was comfortable with the information he was about to divulge before continuing. 

“He only speaks in rice ball ingredients.” Yuuta says with a warm smile, like this information was as natural as the sky is blue.

Oh.

A sharp, boisterous laugh brings you back to the present, pulling you back from searching through every interaction you’ve had with Inumaki thus far.

“You should see your face right now.” Maki declares, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen from her previously. 

“No! It’s just–” Your hands fly up to defend yourself. “...What does salmon mean?” You glance at Inumaki with the friendly smile you can muster, he’s always been a bit reserved and the last thing you want is to make him feel worse. “It’s just I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s used as a general agreement, or affirmation.” It’s now Megumi’s turn to interject in the conversation, he’s relaxed in posture as he glances toward you with his drink carelessly resting on his thigh. 

Well shit, that makes sense, he said it when you said you owed him for helping you out– wait.

“...You alright over there?” Maki questions.

“Yeah!” The pieces click together. “It’s just…” thinking about what you were about to say made you laugh at yourself. It all made sense now and it felt downright absurd in hindsight. It may be a bit embarrassing, what you’re about to reveal to this new crowd that seemed to take a liking to you, but it felt easy, comforting even. And maybe, it would put Inumaki at ease.

“It’s just…” it’s hard to hold back the snort once again as you pinch the bridge of your nose to steady your laughter before turning to speak directly to Inumaki. 

“You said that to me last week, you know, after you helped me with those groceries. And all this time, I thought you wanted salmon as compensation! I’ve had it in my fridge for days trying to figure out when to give it to you! I nearly bought another one today cause I didn’t want to... I didn’t want it to spoil!” 

The last few words are squeezed out with a hearty belly laugh as you regale the last of your salmon confessions. His shocked expression soon melts into hysterics as he bends at the waist with you to share amusement.

Amidst the shared hysterics, the knowing glances from the rest of the party go unnoticed. Every elbow exchanged in jest and hidden smile shared amongst the onlookers. There’s a cooling relief that washed over your shoulders with the exchange, dissipating the neglected tension that built over the weeks which made you feel lighter than you realized. With a fresh start, more drinks are shared around the table as you sit more comfortably and begin to blend into the group. Laughs and tall tales are shared between the group, with even the two reserved men beginning to chime in more. 

“You know, you’ve learned a lot about us, but how did you and Inumaki meet?” Yuuta asks with gentle curiosity. 

“Yeah, he was pretty tight lipped when we asked back at the coffee shop.” Megumi adds with nonchalance.

“Okaka!”

Inumaki’s brows kiss the edge of his tear ducts in anger, garnished with a pointed finger. Interesting. You realize in that moment that despite his limited speech, he’s fairly expressive when he’s comfortable. 

“Does… okaka mean no? Disagreement?” There’s a small tilt in your head when you ask.

Inumaki’s eyes widen subtly before quickly returning to their relaxed half-lidded state when he gives a nod. You don’t know why, but you have a feeling he’s smiling, it’s like you can feel it. 

“See! You’re already getting it!” Yuuji cheers at the successful translation, rewarding you with a little-too-firm back pat. 

But the minor side distraction doesn’t last long, eager onlookers soon redirect back on track as your not so gently coaxed back into the topic of your first meeting with Inumaki, quick glances between the both of you are exchanged, and inumaki nods to give the green light signal. That's how you begin the awkward story of your first encounter, and then the second. The third and fourth are purposely glazed over, considering there was no need to let on how much you memorized every interaction you had with him. Not that it truly mattered in the end, considering they were mostly focused on the salmon origin story with the grocery mishap. 

“Oh man, that's good.” Maki is wiping a stray tear after the last dregs of laughs exhale from her stomach. 

“Makes me feel better about my first time meeting Inumaki– I was holding a funeral wreath over my face while I was kneeling in shame!” 

The room pauses momentarily. The nature of Yuuji's fake death and speed course into jujutsu sorcery was threatening to make light if the context of his confession was questioned even slightly. He’s aware of this moments after the words leave his lips, and in a small fumble he finds his footing to hastily switch gears before you have a breath to question him. He brings his hands in a loud clap as if to signal a finality before he speaks. 

“I say we have a look at your apartment! Since we’ve spent so much time here, and you’re our new friend! Right, guys?!” His earnest eyes scan across the living room to search for validation. 

“It’s rude to invite yourself to someone's house, Yuuji.” Megumi is the first to interject.

Panic grips your ribcage tight at the sudden suggestion, thinking back into the bare-bones state of your living quarters. Having a new group of people that seemed genuinely interested in you felt great, you wanted to extend the warmth and hospitality that was extended to you, but you simply weren't prepared to host these people. Sure, the simple necessities of furniture were set up for your own sake, but the empty walls and masses of cardboard boxes still made the space feel incomplete. You laugh to ease the tension of the room, or no– the tension you feel before you speak up. 

“It’s not rude! I don’t mind having you all over– it’s just…” There was enough alcohol coursing through your veins to warm your skin and make the flow of navigating conversation in a new environment easy, the fuzzy floating sensation in your head dulling any polite social filter that would be needed in any normal circumstance, but still you take another drink to quell new nerves. 

“I haven’t exactly… Well…”

“Spit it out.” Maki barks.

“My apartment isn't fully unpacked. I spent a good chunk of change on movers and then I only had so much time before I started my new job, so…” One more gulp of carbonated alcohol for good luck. “It’s bare in there, haha. A bit embarrassing. But I’ll get to unpacking fully eventually. I have necessities, the rest is just sort of… a bridge I'll cross when I get there.”

The group shares a glance before returning their eyes to you.

“You’ve been here for some weeks from what I remember.” Megumi chimes in with thoughtful eyes that seem to scan the ceiling lost in thought. 

“Salmon.” Inumaki agrees.

“Moving is a pain in the ass, I get it.” Maki is next to add her thoughts.

“That must be hard, we can help!” Yuuta looks concerned, the dark circles stretch under his eyes when they widen.

“Yeah! Great idea Yuuta! Let’s go help her unpack!.” Yuuji shoots himself off the couch with fervor, as if he’s ready to charge into battle.

An incredulous scoff ghosts over your drink when you take yet another sip, unconcerned with his ridiculous statement. However, when the crowd rises from their seats in unison the gravity of the situation slams itself into you. Despite your protests, they fall on deaf ears as Inumaki wordlessly waves his hands and grips your shoulders, leading you to the front door and through the hall while the rest of the group trails behind.

What comes next is pure chaos, everyone standing in your nearly-empty living room, save the couch and table, and scanning the room like a group of mid 40’s fathers at a BBQ trying to figure out the best way to grill sausages. Maki clapped once and barked out orders on where to start, Yuuji enthusiastically ran back across the hall to grab more drinks, and you tried to insist it was too much work. You smiled at how easily the group brushed you off, soon working together like a well oiled machine, even going as far as taking care of the decorating, checking with you where to hang paintings and posters and little trinkets, although megumi has to wrestle the power tools out of Yuuji’s too enthusiastic and alcohol laden grip. 

A few more hours pass, laughs and small accidents are shared across more drinks and cheers and your apartment finally feels like a home. Everyone sat on the couch and shared easy conversation, although you found yourself leaning back and enjoying how everyone seemed to meld into each other, a pure sense of community blooming into your heart and filling an empty hole that had long collected dust against its hollow space, when suddenly, you had felt a soft elbow beg your attention. It was inumaki, he held a nervous expression as he held out the smooth glass of his cell phone, presenting it to you with a beckoning question. Of course, it was one you eagerly answered by taking the device– while trying to calm the sound of your heartbeat as your hand brushed his warm fingertips– before you entered your number into his contacts under the name “favorite neighbor,” the many drinks had certainly diminished any reservations and provided a new confidence.

And when he sent a quick ‘very fitting name:p’ text so you had his number in exchange, you sat there stumped on what to save him under your own contact as- his name feeling too formal considering the night that was shared but also not having a well enough established rapport with him to think of any witty nickname. That was until a frustrated Megumi called out to him.

‘’Hey, fish for brains, I’m talking to you!” Your attempt to hide your snicker doesn’t go unnoticed by him, he scolded you with an annoyed ‘okaka!’ paired with a surprisingly gentle pinch to your side. Megumi had let him know it was getting late, and that they would help clean up before heading out, but you hastily offered to help Inumaki on your own, coaxing the rest of the group to turn in for the night. After all, it was the least you could do to pay back the gracious help they had extended to you. They seemed to accept this before parting ways with friendly goodbyes.

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

And Then I Met You 𓂃𓈒 ꨄ︎

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Series Tags • strangers to lovers • slowburn • neighbors au • hurt/comfort • fluff & smut • Chapter Tags fluff & humor, pining idiots Word Count: 6.3k a/n: HELLLOOOOOO we're finally posting the first chapter of a long worked on slowburn, ahhhh im so excited I hope you enjoy:) please visit the series master list for post dates

“Sign here ma’am” 

The sight of the paper-laden clipboard stares back at you, a testament of everything that's gone wrong in the past 3 weeks. Its stark black ink stares back at you with everything that’s uprooted your life in plain black-and-white text– a contract signing your previous life away.

You shake the contempt away, plastering a polite smile across your features as you move to grab the pen and clipboard. “Of course.”

The room is quiet except for the hollow scratching of your inked signature scribing the paper to sign your agreement to the movers. Quick polite goodbyes leave you as the door clicks shut and echoes throughout the foreign empty apartment, bouncing off the dull cardboard boxes that fill the empty space. Stark white walls mock your predicament as the sound of your heels echo through the sanitized space, turning heel and smoothing back sweaty fly away hairs from your face as you take in the scene and huff a breath. 

‘We’ve had to downsize recently, our profits haven’t been ideal this year, you understand.’ Your ex-bosses words echo in your mind as your back slides down the wall until you reach the hardwood floor of your new downsized apartment. The company-wide layoff had nearly blindsided everyone, with the higher ups sitting comfortably as always, and as a lower management administration of course your head was one of the first on the chopping block. You still recall the ring in your ears as the news was delivered in the office, drowning out the otherwise busy noise of the cubicle environment as you autopiloted toward your own desk to pack what was years of your life away in a box.  

At least the severance package was modest, enough to pay the movers and set up a few months in a cheaper apartment further outside Tokyo. Initially, you planned to use the funds as a 2-3 month safety net while you secured a new job, but after long nights spent scouring job listings in your field and putting in resume  after resume it was certain that there was nothing out there. Long nights spent pulling your hair out and crying in frustration ultimately led to dead ends and crushed hope, so you finally resigned to finding a cheaper, small apartment further outside the city and taking whatever menial job would have you.

Working at a local small-owned coffee shop wouldn't be so bad, you thought, aside from the hit to your pride. Being a barista at your big adult age as if you were back in high school or college only knocked your ego down a few pegs, but it was ultimately something that would surely be less stressful and enough to pay whatever bills you had until the chance to get back into your career field. If anything, it was a slight reprieve, and the change of pace may do you some good. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself over the past few weeks. A fresh start.

The doorbell cuts through the quiet room, making you jump in your skin at its jarring alert. Who the fuck is bothering you so soon? Goddamit, you just started to settle in, never a moments peace– 

Your stomach gurgles, loudly, churning aggressively and echoing off the empty walls. Right, that’s right, you ordered take out earlier, against the wishes of the rational budgeting part of your brain. But you were tired, and angry, and at the end of the day, you shelled out all that money on moving expenses– and movers, because all you had was yourself, so what was another measly two thousand yen on some take out?

Reluctant feet drag you to the door, gripping the doorknob tight and swinging it open to reveal the delivery person waiting patiently. He bows and hands you a neatly tied bag with two hands. You exchange pleasantries as the courier rushes off, surely to deliver his next round. You take a moment to untie the bag and check its contents, all there, except–

“Ugh, they forgot the chopsticks.” You mutter in frustration. Such a simple thing that recks the remaining burning daylight, the precipice of everything that’s piled onto you within weeks spilling over and pushing you over the edge. Exhaustion grips your head and settles in the back of your eyes, unable to remember which boxes were which, or where any of your kitchen utensils were for that matter. So, you would just resign to eat with your hands like the animal you were. No table, no utensils, just you and an empty apartment and what little nourishment you allowed yourself. It will be a problem tomorrow, you decide. 

You look up from the contents of the bag, jumping at the sight of a man standing directly across the hall from you. He seems to be frozen, one hand reaching for his doorknob while the other rests in his pocket; one foot standing solid while the other pauses in stride, knee bent with the toe of his shoe just touching the ground. He’s looking over his shoulder right at you, his chest heaves softly as if he’s out of breath, platinum blonde streaks laden with sweat sweep around his cheek bones. And his eyes– are they purple? Soft lilac hues overtake small black irises, long eyelashes kiss his brows that sit high and graze his hairline in surprise. Was he on a run? There's a sheer gleam of sweat that adorned him, glistening against the fluorescent lights and he wore tight black muscle shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and wrapped around his biceps–

Get it together! 

“Uh– Hi!” Suddenly you’re hyper aware of your state. Nervous hands fly to your hair and smooth down stubborn fly-aways in a rush before moving down to dust off sweat and dirt from your shirt and begin fiddling with the hem of your shorts, tugging them down your thighs with anxious haste. “Im, uh, your new neighbor! Sorry I’m a bit sweaty– and gross– uh–”

The man in question doesn't move. Doesn't say a word. He just stands as if he’s encountered a bear in a forest. The only hint of how he feels shines in his eyes, his skin is slightly flushed and his mouth is obscured by a black face mask. Is he sick?

“Right.” You bounce back and forth between your feet while fiddling with the plastic bag in your hands. Heat begins to warm the back of your neck under his watchful gaze. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you! See you– soon? Or not!” A nervous laugh leaves your lips as you turn heel to rush back into the safety of your apartment. 

Idiot. Your first encounter with one of your neighbors and you absolutely fucking blew it. There goes that! You pace back and forth while replaying the entire exchange; your awkward fiddling, the way you probably looked like you just got chewed up and spat out, god, why were you wearing a sweaty old band t-shirt and stupid short pajama shorts? Why are you so incapable of human conversation? ‘I'll see you soon?’ Who says that?! ‘He probably thinks I'm some weird stalker!’

Breath. You remind yourself. It’s not that big a deal, in fact, there are worse things to worry about than how some mysterious and handsome stranger thought of you. Some mysterious handsome stranger that you lived across, and would likely have to see here and there. No, nothing to worry about at all, except for the sorry state of your apartment, that was something to worry about right now. Aside from the couch and bed, everything you currently owned was in boxes. You look up and scan the room in all its dull sienna laden glory, scanning each box and trying to figure out what housed what before the realization of the daunting task churned your stomach. Tomorrow– for now, just eat and sit down. If you’re  up for it, you’ll start opening boxes and figuring out unpacking later. 

For now, you resign yourself to sit on the floor and eat. Any future problems will be solved with a full belly, come hell or high water. The cold hardwood presses against your bottom as you begin to unpack the bags contents when the doorbell sounds once again. You turn your head in confusion, thinking back on if you ordered anything else or if you had any other scheduled deliveries. The cable guy wasn’t due to come until tomorrow, you hadn’t ordered anything online yet… 

With a heavy sigh, you pull yourself back up, silently cursing whatever the intrusion was as you come up to swing the door open once again–

There's no one at the door. You look left, right. Nothing but the empty corridor greets you. Your shoulders slump, slightly annoyed you’ve gotten up for nothing, soon turning around to close the door, but the sight of something laid neatly on the ground takes your attention. A small potted plant, with a thin long black box that rests neatly on the side of the rim. You look around once more, looking for any sign of who might have been the sender, perhaps it was left at the wrong door, but since there's no one around you crouch down to inspect the surprise package.

The potted plant sports lush verdant leaves, thick and round that climb up and surround delicate alabaster flower buds, its scent is a subtle floral that brightens the empty space of your doorway, and perhaps your mood a bit. You lean closer to take another smell, smiling softly when you lean back to look at it once more. Jasmine! You remember, it's a jasmine plant. But where did it come from? You frown at the reminder that it was likely dropped at the wrong door, but the small box that rests on top of the pot intrigues you. With careful fingers, you lift the lid that sits on top of the box, and you jump at the sight. 

Nestled neatly in a row, the sight of six pristine wooden chopsticks greet you. Each pair has a different flowered pattern inked in indigo and white around the top. Maybe this was meant for you? I mean, you were just griping about the missing chopsticks, and not 10 minutes later there was some sitting right at your door. They're too nice to be dropped off from a forgotten delivery, but the fragrant jasmine plant brings up more questions than answers.

If anything, you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and once again, there's no one around looking lost as if they're looking for a lost package, so you eagerly pick up your possible house warming gifts from a likely nice neighbor who maybe took pity on you and went back inside. You can feel your smile ache against your cheeks as you walk into the empty kitchen to set the jasmine plant in a well lit spot, idling rubbing at the sore spot while you sit back in the living room next to the cardboard boxes with your new chopsticks in hand to finally satiate the growing hunger in your belly. The first bite feels like a long rest after an arduous climb up a mountain, sitting back and savoring the rich flavor that hits your tongue, soon devouring the rest of your meal before sitting back and stretching your sore limbs from the day's work. Wherever it came from, mistake or not, you would figure out tomorrow.  For now, you were fed and in more lifted spirits. 

—--- ♡ —---

Inumaki breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you smile through his door's peep hole. His chest beams with pride when he sees you happily tuck his gifts under your arm to bring them inside. Once he sees your door shut, he finally turns around and leans back against the door frame, sliding down and subconsciously hugging his stomach as his anxiety begins to quell. He wished he could tell himself that he didn't care if you didn't accept the gifts he left for you, but him running back into the safe confines of his apartment to watch you through the door proved otherwise

It had been like any other day for him; get up, get to work, come home, go for a mid-evening run, return home for dinner. That is, until he walked down that long corridor, distracted with thoughts of tomorrow's jujutsu lessons and what to make for dinner while idly fishing for his keys and looked up by chance to see you. And there you were, standing in the doorway looking thoughtfully down at a plastic bag with a furrow in your brow. He felt the breath knock from his lungs when he saw you, all spitfire and conviction, giggling to himself even if the conviction was aimed at a simple take out order. 

He took note of all the boxes behind you in your apartment. She must have just moved in, he thinks, as he scans the scene in front of him. He liked the way you pouted. It was cute and twisted something inside himself, and he let his mind wander as to what kind of person you were. Were you loud and unapologetic like Kugisaki? Or maybe you were just caught on a bad day and were more reserved like him. He wondered what your laugh sounded like and what your hobbies were. 

“Ugh, they forgot the chopsticks,” he heard you mumble to yourself with a clicked tongue.

‘Chopsticks? I have chopsticks, loads of them! Wait, no, what would I even say? Mustard leaf? Yeah right, cause that would be a great ice breaker.’ Inumaki thinks faster than he can keep pace, running through several different scenarios then scolding himself for even thinking of trying to talk to you, when suddenly you looked up and locked eyes with him.

‘Shit– she’s looking at me, how long have I been standing here–’

“Uh– Hi!” He hears your voice chirp suddenly, and man is it the most beautiful sound that’s ever graced his ears. He hears something about you moving in, but he’s hardly focused on the words that come out of your mouth, he’s too busy watching the way you fiddle with your hair and clothes as you talk to him. Cute.

He’s only realized how distracted he is when you seem to switch gears and offer a rushed goodbye before disappearing hurriedly back into your apartment. He jumps at the loud slam of your door and stares at the wood a moment before smacking himself on the forehead. Idiot! Who just stares at someone like a psychopath? You just met a new neighbor, a pretty and sweet one at that, and blew it! Who was he kidding, it was hard enough to form bonds with those already within his circle of Jujutsu sorcery, let alone a random civilian woman. He rubbed at his temples on his way back into his own apartment. 

Inumaki keeps replaying the scene in his head, criticizing every moment he could have fixed if he had a second chance. He sighs and looks over at the waste basket now overflowing with crumpled papers, cringing at the memory of every note he scribbled to leave with the gift.

‘Heard you needed chopsticks. These are for you.’ No, that's weird. Who would admit to eavesdropping?

‘Welcome to the neighborhood.’ Oddly vague without context.

Maybe if he left something else it would be perceived better. He opted to grab one of the many jasmine plants he grew in his windowsill. He wondered if you would like the scent.

‘From your neighbor across the hall :)’ Okay, ominous and creepy. No way.

Maybe he could just give up, but then again, what were you supposed to do? Eat with your hands like some animal? Dig through box after box to find something? Anything? From what he saw, you hadn’t even unpacked a single box. He knows how stressful moving is, and it didn’t seem like you had any help.

Eventually he cursed a short ‘Ikura!’ after a few more rejected iterations before throwing away the next abandoned note and just opted to leave them in front of your door, ringing the bell and running back into his own space, watching with bated breath through his own door. He chewed on his bottom lip when you looked around confused, his hands bunching as if he were holding an invisible stress ball, only releasing a breath he wasn't aware he was holding when you leaned in to smell the vibrant flowers and smiled.

“Sujiko.” He sighs, rolling his shoulder and taking off his face mask, tossing it to the side. Perhaps he would feel better after a meal, a shower, and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, a fresh start.

—--- ♡ —---

The early morning sun spills past the curtains, illuminating the tiny dust specks that dance freely in the half-empty room. A stray stream of sunlight creeps up the mattress and spills over the covers, landing across your brow. With a protesting grunt you roll over and stretch your limbs, and reluctantly get up, only slightly annoyed at the sight of the clock that reads 6:30am. It seems as though you’re incapable of sleeping in, despite spending the past several days unpacking and organizing what you could. But, considering it was your last day unemployed you decided it would do some good to finally find a local store to buy real food for your fridge that was currently housing take out boxes and a few bottles of water.

“Alright! I’m getting up!” You shout to no one but yourself, slapping yourself at your knees while standing up.

You make a mental note to unpack the kitchen later, wanting to get the most daunting room out of the way since yesterday's concern had more priority over unpacking and putting away all your clothes and toiletries. On the way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, your eyes fall to  the potted jasmine plant sitting content on the kitchen windowsill, its vines creeping slowly toward the morning light creeping past the blinds. A soft smile graces your features as you wonder back to the mysterious neighbor from the other day. There’s no proof it was from him per se, but you chose to believe it was him against your better judgement. Or maybe, you wanted it to be him– for no reason other than it would mean that you didn’t blow your first meeting with him and he didn’t think you were some sweaty awkward little house gremlin.

Whatever, it’s of little consequence, you think as you turn the shower handles and step into the tub. Steam begins to fill the small tiled room while the scent of shampoo wafts through the air, the hot water soothes the sore ache in your arms and back from the past few days of labor, and offers a little slice of normalcy and relaxation. It’s hard not to let your mind wander back to your mystery neighbor though, mindlessly replaying the scene in your head while washing your hair. He hadn’t said anything, you remember, he just sort of stared. Normally, you could get a pretty good read on people in general, but with half his face obscured it made it that much harder. Next time you see him you’ll strike up a conversation and get a feel for him, if anything just to get some peace of mind so you could stop thinking about it.

The handle creaks as the water shuts off, leaning over and squeezing the last remaining water droplets from your hair and stepping out. Feeling refreshed, you get dressed and pull out your phone to look up the nearest store. Having access to a company car is going to be a sorely missed perk, but living more to the countryside instead of at the heart of the city more or less evened it out. Everything out this way seemed to be closer together, and more foot traffic friendly. It was quieter too from what you've gathered. Still lively enough sure, but lacking the cold over crowded lifestyle where everyone was out for themselves.

Your step hesitates at the door, pausing briefly and wondering if maybe you’d see him again. Quickly, you shake the thought away, silently scolding yourself before gripping the handle and swinging it open. 

Nothing.

Just the empty hallway and your footsteps echoing down the hall.  It feels downright immature to be a little disappointed, but you can’t help but to snort at yourself and move on, busing your mind instead with running down the mental grocery list instead of the enigmatic and maybe even cute neighbor that seems to reside across the hall. The walk was serene with crisp morning air that rustled through the foliage that lined the sidewalks while the sounds of bird  chirps fluttered against the breeze. It was a relief to finally have a chance to slow down, take your time, and look around while making note of the little shops around for future reference. Pleasantries were exchanged upon entering the local grocery store, idly perusing the aisles with basket in hand. Once you're satisfied with your haul and the weight of the basket begins to press into your wrist, you head to the check out lane and make your way back home, letting your feet carry you back on their own volition while your mind is elsewhere. 

A thousand thoughts swell and billow in your head, thinking of starting over at work, meal planning for the week, how someone's eyes can possibly be purple– huh? It had to be a trick of the light or something– Your foot misaligns with the last step to your floor, a sharp gasp punctures your lungs as the few bags of groceries slung around your arms swing sharply while the sight of the ground closes in. With panicked reflex  your hands shoot out to break your fall, but it never comes. Instead, the foreground stops sharply, a warm and solid arm secures around your waist. 

“Mustard leaf?” A voice laced with concern brushes your ear. It’s soft, with an undertone of gravel. 

You look up and are greeted by the sight of your neighbor looking down at you, a worried brow frames his lavender eyes which are peeking beneath the shining  platinum hair that sweeps over his face and kisses his eyelashes. It looks softer than the last time, freshly washed with a faint floral scent you might have been able to place if you weren’t so mortified you almost ate shit in front of the same person you were thinking about in the first place. 

His arm, which you're now blatantly aware is wrapped around your midsection, grasps you tighter to secure your frame and move you away from the stairwell. After he’s ensured you're safely back on your feet he moves to pick up a few stray packages of herbs and vegetables that fell out in the tumble. He looks more casual today; black joggers paired with a loose white tee and baggy jacket that fell off his shoulder; the face mask he once sported was gone but instead replaced with a teal scarf that wrapped around his neck and obscured him from the nose down once again. He wasn’t too much taller than yourself, a few inches over you at most, his current outfit hid away the broad shoulders and lean arms you saw over the first encounter. But what truly caught your eye was how soft he looked, shoulders slumped to shrink himself with his hands pushed out like he was scared you were going to fall again. Curious eyes quickly scan over you, and that’s when you realize you’ve been staring. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! Didn’t see the step either I– uh… I’m sorry.” Words frantically spill from your lungs faster than you can catch them.

He straightens his posture and scans you over again, a slight tilt in his head, almost curious. Was he wondering if you hit your head? You wouldn’t blame him. Still, he says nothing. 

“Right!” You clear your throat and dust yourself. “Thanks for the save. I owe you.” 

You turn and bend to pick up the last few grocery bags and scuttle away, too preoccupied to see the way Inumaki shifts from foot to another lost in thought, irises darting back and forth as if he were at a crossroads.

You're startled by the gentle clasp on your wrist, it’s feather light and warm before sliding down and brushing your fingertips, meeting them at the grocery bag handle. When you look down and back at him he jumps back and looks apologetic, but still moves to take the bags in hand and stands back at full height while his expression morphs back into its neutral state. He presses forward a step closer, scooping the remaining bags from your arms easily before turning half circle and walking down the long hall. When he gains a few strides over you, he stops and peers over his shoulder, watching curiously while you stand there dumbfounded. 

“Ah!” You quickly catch up to him when you put the pieces together.

“That’s so nice of you, thank you. Now I really owe you, huh?” 

Unbeknownst, a warm smile swims just under the surface of his scarf. His downcast eyes only look at his feet as he walks in step with you.

“Salmon”

“Pardon?”

He flinches, like a stray animal that wants to scurry away. Shades of begonia dust the tips of his ears as his face sinks lower into his scarf, bringing his thumb and index to pinch and secure the brim of the fabric over his nose. 

“No! It’s just, I didn’t quite hear you– uh, salmon? I could pick some up!” Great, one of the first words he's spoken and you’ve already seemed to offend him. You were beginning to wonder if he was mute, or maybe had a speech impediment, turns out he was likely just shy and you’re making it worse.

Guilt weighs on your shoulders thinking that you’ve just made him shrink back into his shell but you replay his voice a few times over, memorizing it; it was low with gravel, but soft around the edges, layered and complex but more delicate than expected, like sandstone. All you can think about is how you want to hear it again. 

“Thanks again.” You look at him earnestly while fishing out your keys. “I wouldn't want to impose on you anymore, I can take those.” You smile softly while kicking the door open and reaching towards the bags he was holding. 

He hesitates a moment, only acquiescing after you tilt your head in anticipation. You can feel his warm skin brush against yours in the goods exchange, leaning into it without realizing, at least, not until his forearm gets caught in between your bicep and side. A squeak leaves your throat while trying to rectify the situation, but the platinum haired man's shoulders shook as he untangled your limbs from one another and took back half the bags– was he laughing?

He supplies a quick nod upwards, giving a ‘go ahead’ signal while holding the heaviest bags.

You turn to look at your apartment, heat crawling up the back of your neck as you're suddenly aware of how bare your living space is still. 

“It’s a mess in there, I’m still unpacking.” 

He hums something noncommittal as he follows you inside, scanning the room nonchalantly on his way to the kitchen when you drop off the remaining bags on the table, but something catches his eye. Sitting there on the kitchen windowsill is the gifted jasmine he gave to you, it was growing well, and placed with care somewhere it could thrive. 

“Pretty isn’t it?” 

Inumaki startles at your question, realizing he was lost in thought. Quickly, he nods and settles the bags on the table, then raises two fingers to his brow in a casual salute before making his way back down the hall and out the door. 

“Wait!” You plead as the door shuts with a firm click. “I didn’t… get your name.”

—--- ♡ —---

The morning begins a whole seventeen minutes before your alarm sounds off, the anxiety of your first early shift begrudgingly keeping your body awake. The cool hardwood seeps into the soles of your feet as you carry yourself into the bathroom to begin your morning routine. The hot steam wraps around your body and melts the early morning stress from your frame and quells the anxious jitters that hum in your stomach enough to move to the kitchen for your morning coffee. Coffee, the word makes you cringe internally considering you were basically kicked to the bottom of the career later in a matter of weeks, but you brush the thought off as you reach above to grab a cup, the subtle scent of the jasmine plant wafting to your nose.

You pause, taking a moment to inhale deep and close your eyes. You see stairs, you see him, with his soft ash blonde hair and beckoning gaze before hastily opening your eyes and shaking the thought out of your head. But the scent and the thought lingers, nestling into a crawlspace under your brain, but you shelve it for now, to be unpacked later with the remaining physical boxes filling up your new home. Right now, you’re only concerned about letting the caffeine hit your brain stem and fill your veins to give you the much needed strength to push through the day. After the cup is empty, it sits patiently in the empty sink until your return home, moving with haste to get dressed and fix your hair and make up in a way that makes you feel good enough to start the day with a little pep in your step. With a final motivational sigh in the mirror, you turn heel to make your way out the door while fixing your name tag neatly to your shirt, grasping your bag off the hook– the same one that you spent nearly 45 minutes leveling and hammering in yourself for a sense of homely normalcy– and opening the door with an upbeat swing.

“K-kelp!”

With matching open doorways, you’re both caught in each other's path like deer in headlights. Your favorite perplexing platinum-haired neighbor is standing at full attention with an outward palm raised and tipped slightly to his head in a casual greeting, but his wide eyes betray his state of… panic? Surprise? He’s wearing a navy suit, long slacks hug his athletic thighs that crease at the crotch but relax past the knees, and his torso is covered by the same colored shirt with a high rise collar that comes up to the tip of his nose. Interesting.

A singular gold button sits at his left collar bone, and a large black duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, dipping into itself with weight that was heavily packed. You wonder what he's dressed for, such an odd outfit that you’ve never seen before that you can’t place what may be the reason. The door to his own apartment is wide open, it seems as though you’re scheduled to have aligned like the stars above and you’ve both left at the exact same time. You brush a few stray hairs behind your ear, an attempt to put yourself a bit more together as if you didn't just spend 45 minutes getting ready for work, putting on a placating smile to ease whatever worry he wore on his face– wait did he say kelp?

“Good morning!” You chirp while attempting non-chalance in closing and locking your door. 

When you turn around and catch his eye you notice he relaxes and offers an affirmative nod.

“Are you on your way to work as well?” You inquire gently, despite his lack of verbal cues you find it easy to talk to him, it’s as though he radiates a warmth from his body, a soothing blanket that wraps around your shoulders on a crisp evening.

There's a minute shift in his eyes, his waterline curves upwards with mirth, it feels as though he smiles through his eyes when he nods again.

“Great, then we can walk together until we part ways.” You giggle

In that moment Inumaki feels as though he’s breathed fresh air, the collected stress in his shoulders melts away and drips off his collar bones. Echoing beats sync in tandem down the empty hall, slowly approaching the stairwell that leads to the ground floor. Suddenly, he shoots his arm across your torso when you reach the threshold of the stairwell, he makes a dramatic flair of his long limbs in indicating your safety. Facetious palms are raised as he carefully tries to coral you onto the first step, making a show of linking arms and pushing his free hand out in caution. 

Suddenly, it clicks. He was insinuating the previous mishap with the groceries the other day.

An incredulous laugh leaves you, tossing your head back as you make your first step down.

“You’re a little shit aren’t you?” You inquire with jest.

This seems to surprise him, his eyes widened with shock as a jostle in his shoulders signal his entertainment of the exchange. He flits his eyes around and waves his hands with an air of nonchalance as if to say ‘oh, I don’t know, but if you insist.’ 

Laughs are shared in step as you both make your way down the stairs and around the corner, when you approach the crossroads he pauses, waits and looks at you with a parting gaze. You understand this glance, and bid him farewell as you make your way toward your destination.

—--- ♡ —---

The first work week passes in a blur, today is the start of a new week, and the comfortability of routine has begun to settle. Mornings are usually heavier with the general populace lining up to the door eagerly in search of their caffeine fix, the afternoons are quiet, then early evenings pick back up a bit before you end for the day. The best part of the day was the short walk down the hall and down the stairs, at first you shrugged the thought off, but found yourself eager to start work at just the right time to hopefully catch a glimpse of your enigmatic neighbor. You hate to admit it, but you even found yourself double checking your clock and adjusting the speed of your routine to land at that sweet spot to spot the handsome man across the threshold. 

Sure, he didn’t say much. But his presence was addicting, warm and safe even. A quiet comfort in the steady day to day that grounded you, and it seemed that he got more comfortable around you too, smiling with his eyes when he saw you and occasionally poking at your side or patting your head when you rambled on in your early morning sleepy state. You wondered what he did though, where he went dressed as he was and what his hobbies were, he was so shrouded in mystery it was difficult not to let your mind wander when your hands were idle. You did see him mostly in the mornings, and a few evenings when he returned from his jog every so often– not that you were mentally keeping track of his schedule or listening for the jingle of his keys to catch a sight of his sweat laced hair and brow– no, no, that would make you a creep.

“My God–” You mutter to yourself, running a hand down your face as if to erase the memories and thoughts you were thinking about. “Get it together.”

You check the clock while grabbing your bag off the hook, a few minutes late. Not too bad, but you definitely were a bit… distracted this morning. Butterflies idly flutter in your stomach as your fingertips wrap around the cool metal of the door knob, you steady your breath before gripping it with confidence as swinging it open.

Nothing.

Disappointment makes an appearance on your features at the sight of the empty hall. Well, you suppose you were a little behind. No matter, you push the feeling aside with only a small scolding to yourself as you head down the hall. It’s difficult not to feel like something is missing, a small empty space that echoes in step with your feet, one that should be paired with two sets of steps, but it’s even more ridiculous that it mattered to you. Embarrassing.

You yelp when you look up, greeting by the sight of your neighbor who leans against the railing with his hands in his pockets. When he meets your gaze, you swear you can hear the faint click of his admonishing tongue, he raises a brow as he taps a finger on his wrist, and while there is no watch he wears you understand what he’s insinuating.

You’re late. 

“I–” You huff an incredulous laugh, unsure of what to say. “Were you… waiting for me?” A slow grin spreads across your features.

He rolls his eyes at your accusation, casually side stepping it as he beckons you over with a wave, a command you eagerly listen to as your feet pick up pace to meet him and begin your shared descent. He only looks ahead, a relaxed stance when he walks in step with you, and for once you find the shared mini commute quiet since you’re at a loss for words. Only when you turn to you, at the designated separation point do you speak up.

“Have a good day! Do your best and I’ll do mine, okay?” 

He perks up at this, clenching his fists and bringing them down sharply with an air of motivation before he bids you adieu. As you turn around and make your way to work, you can feel your cheeks ache with a lingering smile.

[silverrings-n-prettythings]

And Then I Met You 𓂃𓈒 ꨄ︎

Pairing: Jujutsu Teacher!Inumaki x Civilian!Reader

Teaser Tags: • strangers to lovers • slowburn • neighbors au • hurt/comfort • fluff & smut •

Summary: After a massive corporate downsizing, you find yourself jobless and chasing dead ends, eventually resigning yourself and your dwindling savings to take a fresh start. A simple barista job on the countryside outskirts of town all while trying to pick up the pieces of your life, but somewhere along the way the mysterious neighbor across the hall becomes a part of it.

Series Masterlist:

Chapter 1: A Fresh Start - 11.22.25 Chapter 2: Boy Next Door - 11.29.25 Chapter 3: Unspoken Affections - 12.6.25 Chapter 4: Through the Looking Glass - 12.13.25 Chapter 5: Warning Signs - 12.20.25 Chapter 6: And then I Met You - 12.27.25 Prologue: [undecided]

a/n: hihi very pleased to announce something I've been cooking for a few months. I also like to consider this my love letter to Inumaki, since I wasn't yet a writer at the height of my Inumaki obsession. This should have weekly updates since it's mostly done, with additional tags to be added for each chapter. Banner art above by me:) Looking forward to any other Inumaki enjoyers reading<3