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Arachno!

He's a possessed plushie like Bumble and Rosy but isn't related to the pair

🐙

thv .. MY MAN’S COMING I’M SCREAMING 🙂‍↕️

— You are my favorite ‘what if’.

Summary: You’ve been frequenting a small bar on a hidden corner of town, and not because of its drinks, but because of the cute musician that performs there. Will tonight be the one in which yours and his fates cross?

Characters: Kaedehara Kazuha x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 1k.

Tags: fluff, crushes, modern au.

Author’s note: the biggest thanks to my dearest friend @bunny-rambles who made possible this piece was written in the first place. The very last sentence on this fic (you’ll find in boldened and in italics) is by her, so go show Bunny some love, yeah? This is also the first part of what I wish can become a series.

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

Tonight, the pub is particularly empty, with only some of the most loyal regulars occupying the dark wooden tables.

You take another sip from your drink, waiting for the moment he takes the stage.

You remember him well, how could you not, when he’s the sole reason you keep frequenting this local at ungodly hours? when he’s the one you daydream about on your moments of idle solitude?

His singing voice, gentle face, and first name are all you have to keep you company, once the clock strikes the am’s and his fingers stop strumming the guitar.

A few feet away from you, careful steps pad against the floorboards of the modest stage. Yet run down and wasted wood could never overshadow him.

Scarlet eyes, gentle albeit burning with passion scan the small crowd. Translucent snowy curtains partially covering them, his soft looking locks tied in a little side ponytail.

With one hand, he takes the mic, as the other is delicately poised on the cords of his red guitar.

No preamble or salutation is needed, the public goes silent, listening and looking in awe when he starts to sing.

The songs he plays are unknown to you, you’ve wondered more than once if they are composed and written by him, but then again, you don’t know a great deal of artists to begin with, so you let the idea go.

And though new every time, there is a calming nostalgic nature to his lyrics and melody; in this hidden bar, that wakes only after the sun has set, and that sees no light other than the few lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, it’s as if you return home. A new one, novel but familiar, drawing you in, shining a light in the monotony of your days.

Kazuha. That’s his name.

You get lost in him, in the contrast of his maroon t-shirt against the pallor of his hair, swaying in an almost hypnotizing way with his every move; sweat coats his skin, lashes that remind you of starlight hooding his crimson eyes.

And his voice. So angelic and soothing, full of emotion written in verse in between the lines he pours his heart into.

Kazuha.

What kind of person is he outside this stage? You would like to know.

Right now, however, admiring him from the front row seems enough.

Or so you thought, until the moment his eyes met yours.

Maybe it was your wishful thinking in that instant. You’d call it a hunch years later.

But, in that millisecond, stars collided, a nebula spelling out how you wouldn’t walk away that night without yours and Kazuha’s paths crossing.

—

As faraway stars begin to fade in the afterparty reflections of the sun to rise, his performance comes to an end.

Very few people linger by that time, but usually some night owls are still left when dawn approaches.

Apparently, today is the exception.

So you find out, after a few seconds of clapping alone.

Looking around, you stop midway, when you see this crowd is a one person audience.

What time is it, you wonder? Did you really stay that long?

As you scramble to reach for your phone, an airy chuckle makes you pause.

“I’m glad you seemed to like my performance.” Kazuha says as he sits on the floor of the dais, slinging out his guitar over his head, carefully resting it by his side. “You looked happy, so I kept playing.”

He gives you a closed eyed smile, titling his head to the side. And you know how delusional you are the instant you wish you could brush his fluffy hair away from his face.

“Y-you… I- d-did I really… stay that long?” Heat rises to your face, while you quickly pull out (and almost drop) your phone.

5:29 am, it reads.

Kazuha offers you a soft apologetic smile. Then:

“You did, you seemed to enjoy yourself too, so I just went on for a little longer.”

Your eyes widen at his answer. Did he really keep playing because of you?

“I-I’m so sorry!” You croak out, your voice sounding small and breathy. “I didn’t realize… I’m so sorry, you didn’t have to.. gosh you did overtime… I’m… my apologies.”

“No need, dove.” He chuckles, your heart tangling in the honey of his gentle words, its pace spiking at the nickname. “No matter how small the audience, I always love offering my songs.” His autumn eyes meet yours for the second time tonight. “I’ve seen you around before, so I take it you like my gigs?”

All you can do is nod, words catching in your throat, the fact the boy you’ve dreamed of for weeks is talking too you, still drifting in between fantasy and reality.

Another one of his melodious giggles. Afterwards, he adds:

“I don’t think I’ve caught your name, though?”

You tell him, and he repeats it twice. You think maybe you’d like to hear him sing it one day.

“I’m Kaedehara Kazuha.” He extends a hand to you. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

—

“Will I see you again?” Kazuha asks, leaning on the doorframe of the establishment, as you put on your coat to leave.

The horizon is dyeing itself in the pink embers of early morning, tender sunbeams streaming in, illuminating beautifully this kind boy who loves making music, and that now awaits expectantly for your answer.

He hopes you say yes.

‘Yes’ is the only response dancing on your mind.

“Of course.” A shy smile tugs at your lips when his eyes light up in excitement. “That’s a promise.” You add, before stepping into the reality of your day to day life again.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Kazuha closes the door of the local, leaning against it, still dazed.

He just talked to the cute stranger he noticed a while ago, and that has been visiting his most pleasant dreams.

What if he fell in love? Kazuha wonders.

“What if you already are?” His heart whispers back.

It was rather suspicious that after that night, the modern poet’s songs started to shift into ballads, lyrics that chanted of a stranger in the early hours of the morning - and the soft curve of their smile in a dimly lit room.