➸crush (kokichi ouma x reader oneshots)

➸fake

Summary: You wonder why the house was so silent and not full of chaos

"Have a nice day!"

You shot the customer a polite smile, who in turn gave you a lazy wave, and slumped forward once they were out of sight. Your shift will end in a short while, and thankfully that was the last person you had to serve. And you were grateful they didn't cause a scene. Not like that usually happens, but expect the unexpected, you guess.

Once your shift was officially over, you decided to take a nice and sweet purple coloured dessert for a certain someone back in your house. He slept over last night and insisted he stayed for the whole day while you worked. You let him, since he didn't have anywhere important to go and you trusted him enough to not bring chaos to your house. You didn't really count on the last thought, but you just shrugged the thought away.

Bidding your coworkers goodbye, you left the coffee shop and tiredly made your way back home.

While your house wasn't near where you worked, it wasn't exactly too far that you needed to use public transportation. And it saved some money for you. So you usually just walked home, always taking your time to enjoy your walks during the days where the weather was nice. Today, however, was slightly different because your boyfriend was left at your house and you needed to get there as soon a possible.

You silently claimed it was because you were worried he made a mess of your house, but you knew you just missed him.

When you arrived, you silently opened the door and entered the house. You expected to find your boyfriend lazily laying down on the couch while watching television or attempting to cook in your kitchen, but to your surprise the house was completely silent and clean. You raised an eyebrow. You didn't expect this, not that you were complaining. You weren't exactly excited at the thought of cleaning your house if it wasn't necessary.

Placing your shoes away, you put the small cake box on the kitchen counter and for Kokichi to run down the stairs and tackle you or jump out of his hiding spot to scare you, but once again, none of the things you thought would happen actually did. You huff, and realized that he was probably upstairs. You pretended to not notice the missing Panta bottles in your cabinet as you made your way towards the staircase.

The floorboards groaned under your foot, no matter how gentle you were with them. They wailed their age, flexing under your [favourite colour] socks as you climbed up the stairs, softening your movements further to assure you went unnoticed. It was so loud, you wondered if you could somehow get it fixed in the future.

You bit your lip in concentration, carefully twisting a cold brass knob and pushing open an old oak door with practiced calm.

You stuck your head through the gap you made with the door, eyes swaying across the vastness of stuff towards his bed where he slept. There you saw his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, an arm curled overhead with fingers still loosely holding a book split down the middle, a dark tent over his eyes.

He was totally faking it, that’s what you thought.

There was no way he didn’t hear those elephant cries for stairs, no one could ignore them, much less sleep through them.

Still, you waded through his piles of crumpled up papers, his heaps of glittery, sparkling trinkets, and stuff that just made too much noise for your liking. Your path had been obstructed by a piles of empty bottles of grape flavoured Panta. You sigh inwardly, you thought you told him to cut down his Panta intake, it was basically a bottle of diabetes. You made a mental note to force him to clean your room later on.

Noticing a black cape on the floor, you let out another silent sigh and picked it up, shooting a glare to the 'sleeping' supreme leader.

Now with the treacherous pathway behind you, a minute agitation gone the moment you stood at his bedside looking down. Sometimes he was cute when he napped, other times you wanted to smother him in his sleep when his snoring would keep you up late at night.

Today you were decidedly merciful, facing away to drape his cape nicely at the end of the bed before taking your first steps towards the door for a slippery escape. As a book struck the floor with a dull thump, you were yanked off your feet by your waist, leaving you winded even once your back struck Kokichi's chest.

“I knew you were faking it! Faker!” You swung your arms out as he pulled you onto your back next to him. “You’re not as convincing as you think you are.”

The boy tilted his head, a fake frown on his face. "Huh? Whaddya mean? I wasn’t faking it, [Name]-Chan! How am I supposed to sleep when you’re tromping all around my room like a lost elephant?” Kokichi said playfully, letting an arm hang over your waist. 

You reached towards his face for a purple lock, twisting it round your finger, admiring the faint sheen as it caught the delicate light from overhead. “I wasn’t ‘tromping all about’ your room. You’re just a brat.”

“I’m not.” He pouted, pulling your hand from his hair to twine your fingers.

“You are.”

And then there for a while, Kokichi said nothing else yet stared at you as though contemplating a deep truth. There had been a time when you believed you understood his inner workings, all of his nebulous thoughts, and what made him tick. That being said, you vastly overestimated him and any thoughtful silences between you.

“You're a liar, [Name]-Chan.” he said after a moment, sending a rush of panic plunging to your stomach at the wary twinkle in his purple eyes. The sheets wrinkled, scuffing as Kokichi moved closer to you until your bodies were nearly flush, tips of your noses just touching. He spoke again, albeit in an almost conspiratory whisper this time, “My door was locked. How did you get inside?”

“It wasn’t locked.” You tried not to look below his nose as you answered. “I walked right in.”

“It was locked. I made sure for this very reason.” He seemed suddenly interested in a strand of hair on your shoulder. “Tell me how you did it.”

You felt his breath touch your lips then, far too aware of him plucking the single hair from your shirt before cuffing his arm behind your head. At that point, you both anticipated it, words felt needless and your response came as a shrug.

Your lips waited for his kiss, and when it came with a tease and a smile, the thought of eating the purple desert you left downstairs to tease your boyfriend came to mind.