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#it’s really just piles of domestic fluff
dragonnnfly · 1 year
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Why is “suddenly married” my most popular httyd fic?!
No, not even just httyd! I have 36 works, 168k words. Suddenly married is only 13k words.
I wrote it off a a feeling, not a plot. I imagined a plot once, but it fell through my hands like warm sand
I am so genuinely curious… why do you like it?
Is it the fluff? Does the people yearn for domestic fluff?
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rensblade · 4 months
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𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃.
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⟢ warnings/notes: husband! jing yuan x gender neutral! reader. toothrotting fluff, cute domestic banter tbh. husband yuan nation, please rise. not proofread, we die like tingyun. might be ooc. pls lmk if i got any of the hsr terminology wrong.. appreciate any type of feedback & please please pleaseee send me reqs if u have any ✩
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“beloved, am i really that bad of a general?”
the all too familiar baritone of your husband’s voice fills in your ears, as you raise your gaze from the distance, only to watch him sulk from where he was sat upon the seat of divine foresight.
to anyone that squints, would be graced upon a phenomenon all too odd— jing yuan, one of seven arbiter generals, pouting.
“and what.. exactly makes you think so, ‘yuan?” you already knew the answer, but you still entertained the fact he was pouting, almost comically the same way yanqing does, when you deny him from making impulsive sword purchases.. or the same way mimi, your household lion, scrunches up her face and paws at your clothes when you tell her that she won't get any more snacks for the night.
said man sits up from where he's at, and abruptly makes his way down to where you're seated— at his desk. sorting through some of the things unattended earlier during his earlier escapade to fyxestroll garden.
“well.. you know.” he deadpans, staring down at you. you have to keep in a giggle, finding the way he waited so patiently for you to finish with the work at your side, almost akin to your precious lion who does the same.
you heave a sigh, but in an amused way, as you stack the last documents into a neat pile and turn in your chair, and upon being graced with your attention; your lover nearly falls dramatically into your arms.
“i can't help but think i should just hand over my resignation early. you know what, fu xuan probably saw this coming,” he fake-wails, as you caress his hair, cooing at the man who was currently at your feet.
eventually, he relents, when you tug a little hard on his fluffy white mane. “darling.. is this about cirrus?” the mere mention of the heliobus makes jing yuan glower, and you practically have to bite back your laughter at the expression, opting to clear your throat instead.
he stays silent for a second, then scrunches his face. “..absolutely not,” he retaliates in a serious tone. then, he slumps forward again, almost nuzzling into your lap as he tries to hypothesize. “it's just. i need some constructive criticism, before i actually hand over my position to someone else, you know,” he reasons, but you know better.
“right, why of course.” you humor him a little bit longer. pushing the general’s buttons has always been your favorite past time activity.
he pulls away, getting on his feet before he gathers your hands into his and gives you a solemn look. “you get me, my love. this is why we're married.”
that makes you crack a smile. jing yuan only raises a brow, but returns the smile nevertheless, a little hesitant. “yuan, i love you, but. you mean solid constructive criticism like.. i don't know, maybe it's about time you retired and took a big fat cat nap?” you suggest with a snort, and jing yuan simply huffs. (yeah, mimi definitely got the attitude from her dad).
you shake your head, dragging him to sit next to you as you elaborated. “in all seriousness.. you're not a bad general. not a bad mentor, father or husband, jing yuan. don't let that silly heliobi’s words get to your head.” the tall man, lets you cup his face, squishing his cheeks as you pepper kisses across them, as if to prove your point.
he simply gathers your form up into his arms, holding you tightly and you can't help but relax into the warmth he emits. he's truly a big cat. “you know, i’m starting to think this must be how birds that nest in your hair must feel.” you point out with a false-huff, after a minute of silence.
jing yuan chuckles at that, purposely tugging you by the waist; flush closer against his torso as he nuzzles into you— pale locks of his hair cloud your vision. “why, of course. a wise, little sparrow, you are.” he snuggles against you, golden eyes softening as they examine your reactions. “in fact, my favorite.” the baritone of his words send a pleasant wave of warmth through your body, you can feel him smile against your skin as he litters little kisses here and there.
to be fair, if you were held prisoner in his gentle yet steady hold forever, you were more than willing to be reduced to a mere bird, for eternity. okay, and maybe you would miss making snarky rebuttals at the general, but that's about it.
as you're resting yourself against him, a thought crosses your mind, and you'd bask in the silent affection but your loud thoughts cut you short. “and for the record, you still should've let me kick cirrus’s butt.” as expected, a hearty laugh booms from the man’s chest, the vibrations making your body tingle.
“i love you.” he says, practically purring, as the gigantic man nuzzles even further into the crevice of your neck, pressing yet another kiss to the spot he loves. his hair tickles your neck, but you love the familiarity of it all.
what a heavenly life you live, as the general’s personal songbird.
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rensblade, 2023. please do not steal my writings or headers, i put a lot of effort into this. reblogs & comments are appreciated! pls send me asks/reqs, i write for most genshin or hsr or jjk characters as of now. thank u once again <3
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bluejeanstrash · 10 days
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tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, just a little light-hearted fluff of seungcheol being a dramatic whiny baby when he’s sick, mentions of dry scalp and skin picking lol, seungcheol is very whiny | wc: 742
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
a classic cough and cold combo paired with a side of fever-related aches and pains — that was the diagnosis, not the life-threatening illness seungcheol was sure he’d contracted. he’d tried convincing you it was fast-spreading. like really fast. like it has taken over his body and has been shutting down his organs one by one for the past 6 hours fast.
‘i’m going to die. it’s not a joke anymore. i seriously feel like i’m going to die’ he tugs at the hem of your t-shirt as you clear up the mountain of tissues on the left bedside table, and then tugs again while you’re clearing up a pile of dishes on the right.
you sigh, ignoring him, and disappear into the kitchen to reappear with a fresh bowl of hot chicken soup ‘seungcheol, we’ve been over this already. you’re not going to die’
‘forget it! just get me my will. i have to make some last-minute changes’ he asks for it dramatically, draping a limp arm over his eyes.
‘you don’t have a will’ you blow on the hot soup in quick bursts before feeding him a spoonful.
‘ugh, never mind. it’s fine’ the will talk is waved off with a quick fan of the hand to make way for what he says next ‘they give everything to the spouse anyway. wait, do they?’
‘i don’t know, and we’re not married’ you remind him, stirring the hot liquid so the shredded chicken, his favourite part, rises to the top.
‘god, you’re right’ he sits up a little straighter and grabs your free hand, suddenly somber ‘do you take choi seungcheol to be your lawf-’
you force-feed him another spoonful to shut him up, a bit of it spilling onto the quilted blanket. the soup must’ve still been too hot because he lets out a little cry, whining, though it’s entirely possible he’s overreacting.
‘you’re not taking this seriously, i’m actually dying’
‘you’re not’
‘what do you know! you’re not a doctor!’ he grumbles, taking a moment to tell you he really likes the soup and really really appreciates you making it for him before continuing to rant.
‘yeah, and what about the actual doctor we called who said you’re not?’
‘he doesn’t know anything either, that hack. the people on the internet’ he picks up his phone from the bed, showing you a screenshot from some site you’re pretty sure is for hypochondriacs to confirm each other’s delusions, and taps on the screen ‘have told me i have less than 24 hours left. 24. 24!’
‘seungcheol, i can’t have this conversation with you anymore. seriously. you need to go to sleep’ you put the empty bowl aside, straightening, and then pulling the blanket up to cover him.
‘no, no, don’t leave. i want lap time’ he pouts, baby-talking his way into his third one of the day. you sit back down on the bed with a sigh as he repositions himself to lay on your lap, wriggling his head around until he’s comfy. your fingers slowly comb through his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp to soothe him. in a slightly gross but domestic act, you pick a few bits of flaky skin out of his unwashed hair, flicking them away. you should wash it for him later, you think. he’d like that.
seungcheol always found the sensation of you picking at his scalp strangely comforting, and surprisingly quite sleep-inducing. minutes pass without a single sound.
it’s quiet. finally. or so you think.
‘if i die, you can’t date anyone for the next 10 years. at least’
‘what?!’ you jerk your thighs up, pushing him off your lap ‘10 years? you’re crazy’
he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
‘i was just being nice. you shouldn’t date anyone ever, but ohmygod, i can’t believe you want to be with someone else’ he presses his fingers to his temples, suddenly coming down with a headache.
‘so let me get this straight’ he continues ‘you’re telling me when i die tomorrow-’
‘you won’t’
‘-when i die tomorrow, you’re going to bring some other man to my funeral?!’ his cheeks now hot with a shade of distressed pink.
you’re not sure where he’s got that from but you’ve had enough. you get up, grabbing the bowl, and look him straight in the eye, pinching his cute little cheeks ‘well, it’s a good thing you’re not dying then’
you walk out, leaving him right there on the bed, hot and most definitely cold.
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vivalabunbun · 1 year
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Sweet Sweet Nothings
Summary: The sweet lull of normalcy in an unconventional marriage
Word Count: 7K
Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Fluff, this is just pure fluff, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, Modern AU, Alpha! Alhaitham, Beta! Reader, breeding, biting, established relationship, TW: Very vague mentions of gender dysphoria (of your secondary gender), TW: pregnancy and birth, Protective! Alhaitham, Jealous! Alhaitham
Authors Note: This isn’t much of a story, think of it as a collection of sweet nothings and domestic life with Alhaitham and the Sumeru cast after this. I just felt like I had to give them fluff after that slow burn. Enjoy!
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Teal-orange eyes snapped towards the ticking clock on his oak desk, the time read 5 pm. Alhaitham’s duties were over for the day, now he had more pressing matters to attend to. Swift hands gathered up the papers scattered across the dark wood, stacking them into a neat pile before his body pushed against his plush seat. The golden glint of the ring on his finger only spurred him on to quickly exit his office. 
“Hey! Alhaitham are you leaving work now? Great, how about we grab some drinks with-”
“No. I’m busy.” He bluntly dismissed his blond senior. 
A firm hand snatched up his blazer that had been thrown across the back of his seat, the other flicked off the desk lamp. 
“Oi! Your senior is inviting you to a-”
“If you have a request you need approved then please leave it on my desk, I’ll look over it once I return back to the office on Monday.” Alhaitham skirted past the blond’s still frame at the doorway, paying no mind to the disgruntled scrunch on Kaveh’s face. His mind was focused on more pressing matters. 
“And then the brat just WALKS past me as if I were some dust on the ground! Could you believe that?” Kaveh thumps his glass back onto the tavern table, a small splash of wine lapped over the side. 
Tighnari took another big swig from this glass, his ears weren’t drunk enough to handle the tumultuous complaining of the blond. Cyno was only half-heartedly listening, ruby eyes trained on the brand-new deck of cards he had spent the week building in his hands. 
Yes, it is just a typical Friday afternoon. Colleagues gathered at Lambad’s Tavern, congregating at an outdoor table and enjoying the nice wine and early Spring air. Although more often than not, there would only be three seats filled instead of four. 
“Just what is so important that they trifle over common courtesy? In the world of job opportunities, networking and connections are a critical part of getting higher up the chain. Just how did that shrewd man get that promotion?” Kaveh’s face already had the tall tale signs of a drunken glow. 
“Well, it’s not really that out of character for him. People have always found his actions grating, but his efficiency at his work can’t be denied.” Tighnari rested his head on his hand. 
“There’s been a change in the head secretary lately.” Cyno asserted, eyes now trained somewhere else. 
“Oh? How so? He’s the same old crude man.” Kaveh dismissed. 
Cyno motioned with his eyes at a sight just behind the two other men. Two confused heads turned to follow his gaze. Nearly choking on their drinks at the scene they were now witnessing. 
There stood Alhaitham’s towering figure walking hand in hand with yours, bags filled with books and miscellaneous trinkets carried in his other. What made the men uncomfortable was the uncanny softness dawned on the stoic secretary’s face, as his teal eyes focused on you. 
His Beta wife was pressing her body against his arm as she spoke close to his ear, pointing at random stalls and vendors. Alhaitham leaned down to hear you through the chattering crowd, making sure to maneuver your bodies through the bustling streets. 
The three men didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of them as the couple walked out of sight, still holding each other close. Kaveh wonders if the wine being served today was stronger than usual. However, the three unwed men now got their answer to Alhaitham’s sudden full schedule. 
The table of bachelors called for more wine. Maybe to cleanse their palette of the sour taste of jealousy. 
“Have you seen Alhaitham today? I’ve been trying to hand him this paperwork since Friday.” Kaveh approached the head lawyer at the water cooler, the weekend was now over and it was now Monday, and the secretary was nowhere to be seen. 
“Hm? The head secretary applied to use his paid vacation time off. It was approved last Friday.” Cyno took a sip from the paper cup. 
“Huh?” The papers fluttered out of the architect’s slack hands, jaw agape. 
His junior truly was trying to annoy him to death. That conniving bastard Alhaitham. 
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Fontaine was very different from Sumeru, with different types of foods, shops, and culture. It was quite exciting the first week of your late honeymoon to duck into every shop along the city streets. You discovered that your husband was fluent in the language, anything you pointed at he would translate for you without hesitation. However, the wonder of sightseeing faded within just a few days, like the true homebodies you were, there was a silent agreement to spend the rest of the time in the grand honeymoon suite. 
The hotel Alhaitham booked was the most luxurious one Fontaine had to offer. You will have to blame this decision on the generous amount of financial freedom granted by a pharmaceutical payout. It was only fair in Alhaitham’s mind, you worked very hard during the rut brought on by faulty inhibitors. Hard work should be rewarded, so he decides you should be indulged with the best room service, fancy baths, and thousand-count silk sheets. 
How you spent your time in the suite was really no different than how you would spend it in Sumeru. Alhaitham was laying down on the silk sheets, back slightly propped up by down feather-filled pillows, unwinding with a book in his hand. 
“Ah…Ah!... Ah… Making your wife do all the work while on vacation? You’re such a terrible husband, Haitham.” You stilled your hips, hands propping yourself up along his toned body. 
“Mm? You were really enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to interrupt.” There was a teasing tilt in his voice, teal eyes never looking away from the sentences printed as his other hand rubbed circles into your hip. 
From this angle he reached deeper than usual, making you feel so much fuller. Your walls were clenching down, trembling with pleasure from the stretch and thick tip poking that one spongey spot. A while ago you had abandoned your book in favor of bouncing up and down on your husband’s lap. It was your late honeymoon, after all, there was almost five years' worth of time to make up for. 
You knew your husband was just teasing you, but your lips couldn’t stop a pout from forming. You shifted a bit more on top of his god-like physique, pressing his tip deeper against that sweet little spot deep inside. Wandering hands made their way to grope at his plush pectorals followed by your pouting face, eyes trained on the book your husband was so engrossed by. 
“Hmph…” A displeased huff left your lips, it was absolutely adorable to him. 
“Is something the matter?” The corner of his lip was upturned just the slightest bit. 
“It’s our honeymoon and yet my husband is already having an affair with a book.” You playfully sulked into his chest. 
“My, I never knew my wife was the jealous type.” Finally, he snapped the book closed, playful eyes gazing into yours. 
“I guess you learned something new then.” You gently confiscated the book from his hand, placing it farther away on the large bed. 
Alhaitham gave a hum of acknowledgment, both hands now firmly seizing the sides of your waist. Steadying your body before following it up with a solid snap of his hips. You pressed your face harder against his chest, muffling the moan that was suddenly forced out of you. 
“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you so quiet now?” His hips set a rhythm, slow and deep. 
His thick length dragged along your slick walls in all the right ways, you could feel every inch outlined inside you. Each roll of his hips gently lifted your body up before accompanying it back down. Your mouth fell open, breathing out soft moans against his warm skin. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air of the spacious room. But you wanted more, this slow lovemaking couldn’t satisfy the greed deep within. 
“Mmm… More…” 
“More?” His pace escalates just the slightest bit. 
The sloppy sounds of your connecting bodies were louder now, with each in and out of your slick cunt like purrs of pleasure. He was hitting that spot that brings shooting pleasure throughout your nerves. Still, maybe it's because your expectations have been set a bit high from your first taste, but your greed wanted more. 
“More~” You breathed out, face now pressed into the crook of his neck. 
“Mmm, I think I know what my lovely wife wants.” A hand supports the back of your head, smoothing out the hair. 
Swiftly you got turned under him, his board frame now looming above, that handsome smirk on his face. He rested your head gently on the dawn pillows, as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down closer to you. The combination of his weight on top of you and how heavy he felt inside your sobbing cunt sent shivers up your spine. Yes, this is what you wanted. 
Leaving the crook of his neck, your lips chased after his. Alhaitham couldn’t help but let out a small huff, you were quite needy today. His lips captured yours in a deep kiss, shallowing all your noises. He shall spoil you, it was your honeymoon after all. 
In this position, he had much better footing and grasp on your waist. Meaning the strength and pace of his hips slamming into yours increased to the rhythm you desired. Moans were flowing out like water from your mouth, eyes teary with lust. The claps of your bodies echo through the room, he would pull out to the tip then slam back in. Just the way you liked it. 
Teal eyes observed your loose face, the rolling back of your eyes signaling that the knot was about to come undone. But before he lets you reach cloud nine, you have to answer a question that he’s been pondering. 
“Would you rather have consistent pleasure spread evenly throughout the year… or four days of nonstop, mind-melting pleasure then nothing for the rest?” Alhaitham asked right up against your ear, making your skin bristle. 
You felt his hips roll back to their slow methodical pace. Oh, he wasn’t going to let you taste sweet release until you paid the toll of his curiosity. Really, your husband can be so mean sometimes. You let out a small whine, trying to roll your hips into his but his firm hold prevented such action. 
“Answer the question, sweetheart.” Alhaitham continued to egg you on, clearly enjoying your displeased whines. 
“Why can’t I have both?” You muttered close to his own ears, tightening your embrace around him to offset the embarrassment creeping up on you. 
At your response his hips stilled, stoic teal eyes gazing at you as you looked away. You didn’t see the smirk that returned to his features. 
“Goodness, my wife is insatiable.” He dragged his length out fully. 
Before you could even let out another whine at the loss, he returned it fully inside of you. Filling out your unexpecting walls again pounding against that spongey patch, making your back arch up and toes curl. 
“AH!” Your body was pressed impossibly close to his. 
“I wonder if I should keep you at home, confined to the bedroom for your sake.” His hot breath ghosted over your ear. 
He was pistoning in and out now, fat tip abusing your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. Your walls were clenching around his girth just like how your arms were holding onto him to ground your sanity. The searing white flashes of pleasure were shooting up through your nerves, the edge was approaching fast. The filthy fantasy Alhaitham was painting in your mind only served to quicken the process. 
“All you have to do is be a good wife, and welcome me home with open legs. How about that?” Alhaitham pressed sweet kisses against your neck, a far cry from the filth that was leaving his tongue. 
You felt his teeth brush against the side of your neck before they clamped down. That was what unraveled the knot inside you. Your ankles hooked together as your hips pushed closer to his. Back arching almost painfully, bodying trembling and eyes rolling back. Alhaitham let out a small hiss at the tightness of your walls contracting. He wasn’t going to last long if you continued to be this impossibly tight. 
He could tell from the way your eyes were still seeing the back of your head you were still in the midst of your orgasm. This meant that Alhaitham was free to chase after his own release now. So he does. His length continues to pound against your quivering walls, pushing through the tight clenches. The extra gush of slick helped to accelerate his movements further. Sloppy slapping of skin against skin, he could feel that his tip was probably red and swollen from his calculated delayed release. 
Pressing his pulsing tip right up against your cervix, the tension inside him finally snapped. Flooding your walls with thick, warm release. Your body instantly responded, walls beginning to twitch and convulse more, trying to milk every last drop. Alhaitham panted against your neck, sucking on the soft skin from time to time as he held your body close. 
“Mmm… Don’t mark up my neck. I brought all these pretty dresses to wear and now I can’t wear anything but turtle necks.” Your fingers tussled through his messy ash locks. It seems like you’ve returned from cloud nine.
“You can just wear them in the room.” He pressed another kiss to your neck. 
Before you could voice your complaints your husband buries your face into the crook of his neck, a silent invitation. Who were you to reject? The sensation of your teeth clamping down onto his smooth skin, leaving deep indentations seems to appease his primal urges noted by the low growl that rumbles in his chest. 
“Would you like to take a bath, habibti?” Gentle finger caressed your face. 
You hummed in confirmation, nuzzling into his touch more. The calm, sweet lull of intimacy washed over the room. Passion satisfied, for now at least. 
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“You smell.” Dehya scrunched up her nose. 
You gave a deadpan stare at your Alpha friend beside you. You recently returned from your trip to Fontaine, meeting up with your friends to show them the gifts you had brought back. 
The weather wasn’t that hot today so you definitely weren’t sweating, and your outfit was also fresh from the clothesline. You even took a quick shower before you went to the agreed-upon cafe. You brought your arm up to your nose for a quick sniff, nothing smelled particularly off. 
“I smell normal.” You raised an eyebrow at her. 
“No, you smell like you just rolled around in the forest.” She retorted. 
Now you were confused, glancing at Candace and Nilou. Wait, why does it look like the two were trying to hold back their laughter? What is going on? You just wanted to give them their souvenirs. 
“What Dehya is trying to say is… it seems like you’ve gotten closer to your husband.” Candace rested her elbows on the table as she leaned in. 
Oh. They meant that. A scarlet flush instantly engulfed your cheeks, a silent admission of the truth. All at once you saw the gleam in your friends’ eyes, and they started hounding you for the details. 
The tea served at the cafe was always brewed to perfection and the leaves were of the highest quality. However, your friends were much more interested in the new development of your marriage. 
You were drained. You loved your friends, you really do. But spilling the tame details of the budding romance between you and your husband with burning cheeks sure depleted your battery. In a way, they deserved to know, supporting you for over five years throughout the murkier times. 
At the moment, you were curled up on the couch against your husband’s chest. Fingers fiddling with the ring that matched yours resting on his finger, as his attention was trained on the book in his other hand. It wasn’t time for your ritual quiet reading session, so you felt it was appropriate to quietly enjoy some skinship. Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind. 
“Haitham.” You began. 
“Mm?”
“What is your scent like?” You continued to fiddle with his wedding ring. 
“According to your friends, a tree.” His deep voice replied, never once looking up. 
“Mmm.” Your lips pressed into a line, still toying with the gold band. 
You had that look on your face, Alhaitham notes. Demons don’t disappear so easily, even at the start of a new chapter, they will continue to cling to your shadow. If he could, Alhaitham would strangle those devils with his own bare hands. But he couldn’t. So instead, he shall always be there to pull you out from the ice-cold water back to the warm shore. 
He flips the book over, placing it faced down on the arm of the couch. His full attention was now on you as he tenderly grasped your hand, pulling you closer. He pressed his nose against your neck, senses searching through the thick layer of opulent woodiness. 
The faint sweet hints of padisarah pudding mixed with the bath products and laundry detergent you shared were guarded by that layer. The scent that he recognizes as yours, the scent he shares with you. 
“I smell like you. That is the only scent I will recognize as mine.” His teal eyes peered up at you. 
You were silent for a moment, hand halting but still grasping the ring. 
“Pfft. Have you been reading my old novels again?” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh and smile. 
“Did you want me to?” 
“No.” 
You intertwined your fingers with his, rings clinking together, a physical show of a bond. 
Alhaitham rested his head in the crook of your neck, continuing to breathe in your essence. The scent of you always seems to lull him into a drowsy state of comfort. Yet, it wasn’t heavy nor did it cloud his thoughts, so he could always think clearly of you. Yes, this is the scent he adores. 
“Have you been doing something to make my Alpha and Omega coworkers avoid me?” 
“...” 
“What a weird Alpha you are.” You rubbed your cheek against your husband's resting face. 
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You’ve been sluggish lately, Alhaitham observed. More often than not, he found himself carrying your sleeping frame back to bed after you fell asleep curled up on the sofa. Book in your limp hands. Your alarm would also be ringing longer than usual, you used to be able to turn it off by the first ring so as to not disturb him from his slumber. You knew he was a light sleeper. 
As he took a bite of the dinner you had just cooked he notes the blander taste. It was your usual style to throw in as many spices as you pleased. It was the start of flu season, and Alhaitham noted the cough that’s been going around in his office. However, he had a different hypothesis he wanted to share with you tonight. He watched as you chewed then shallowed. 
“Habibti, have you taken a pregnancy test lately?” His voice was calm, tone stable. 
Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him starstruck, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was why he waited, it wouldn’t be good to have food go down the wrong pipe. He maintained a neutral expression, staring into your eyes to read the emotions that were running rampant behind them. 
“N-no… but…” A furrow formed between your brow as you brought a hand up your mouth. A habit of yours when you were deep in thought. 
The two of you were careful. Pills are taken at specific times. Morning after teas were always in stock around the house, either he brews it for you right after a moment of passion or you would drink it in the morning. However, Alhaitham wasn’t startled. He understands that even with birth control there was always a risk. 
Dinner was swiftly finished, dishes piled in the sink for later, there were more pressing matters to attend to. You were currently in the bathroom with the pregnancy test he had picked up on his way home from work. Alhaitham was leaning his back on the wall beside the bathroom door. He was trying to calculate when you last had your time of the month, or when exactly you began to behave differently. 
The singing hinges of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. You had that look on your face again. Alhaitham didn’t even need to look at the test in your hands to know the results, two red lines. From how frozen your stance was in the door frame, he already knew what thoughts were running through your mind. 
Children were never planned nor discussed, at the beginning the two of you were much more focused on your careers and enjoying your free time. That is to say, you greatly enjoyed the double income and no kids life. However, there was now a fork in the road. The hands holding the test were now trembling. Alhaitham quickly brought you into a tender embrace, to silence the wild thoughts before they begin to torment you. 
“Whatever your decision may be, I will support it unconditionally. Take your time.” Rubbing a small circle into your back. 
You were silent but your arms wrapped around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. Quiet reading time was a bit more quiet than usual tonight. 
It was now a Saturday night, Alhaitham had already situated himself on his spot on the couch. There was already a book in his hands, but he didn’t open it, he was waiting for you. You usually didn’t take this long in the shower, he was beginning to wonder if he should go knock on the door. But there was no need, soon the soft thumps of your steps were heard coming down the hall. 
Contrary to the usual, you make a b-line straight into his lap, curling up against his board frame. He didn’t say anything, supporting you with an arm and holding you closer. 
“I want to keep the baby.” You spoke softly against his neck. 
Alhaitham closed his eyes, mind going deep into thought. There was more than enough money saved up to support a child. Sumeru has free good quality health care, a great daycare program, and the best education system. The nation offers a generous tax deduction for families with children. There were enough rooms in the house that one could be turned into a nursery, it would be troublesome to have to babyproof everything and rearrange the furniture. 
Ah, the two of you will have to sacrifice your free time and sleep to take care of a needy newborn. However… He opened his eyes. 
“Then we should start making preparations for our new addition.” 
If it’s with you, Alhaitham is more than willing to sacrifice those luxuries and needs. 
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Alhaitham had to be more observant, the changes to your body and hormones made it so you were much more sensitive to your surroundings. Foods that were too strong in scent had to be dialed back or not cooked in the house. He also took care to clear the floor of any stacks of books lest your foot knocks into them. 
The worst part of it was probably how the pregnancy was disrupting your sleep. Your body needs it, yet the growing bump and overactive hormones made it hard for you to find a position that welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. Often tossing and turning, Alhaitham would  place a pillow under your belly which seemed to help a bit. 
Then came morning sickness, Alhaitham is adamant that your child be thankful for all the suffering you were enduring to give life to them. 
The ashen-haired Alpha had been extra careful with his inhibitors as well, making sure each dose was measured to the line and constantly checking the dates printed on the bottles. Still, the clawing of his instincts only grew stronger as his teal eyes observe your bump growing day by day. You were working so hard to carry the child, he needed to do something to make you relax and comfortable. 
Currently, your bed has been buried under a mountain of quilts and plush pillows. You had your hands on your hips as your eyes surveyed the messy state of the bed you had just made a few hours earlier. You folded and pack those quilts away weeks ago, why were they back out? 
“Haitham, why can’t I see our own bed?”
“There’s no cause for concern. Your body must be tired, go take a rest.” A gentle large hand rested on your lower back, encouraging you towards the heavenly pile. 
That sentiment from seven years ago still rings true to this day. Your husband is weird. Still, there was a small smile on your face, what a silly sweet weirdo he is. The soft wafts of fresh linen encapsulated your senses, layers upon layers of fabric cushioning your achy joints and growing belly. Gentle fingers combed their way through your hair, making your eyelids grow heavy. 
Were these inherited instincts or learned gestures from old light novels? Oh well, the answer is irrelevant. 
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One Saturday afternoon you were rudely awakened by the maddening repetition of thumping. You were now well into your second trimester, the bump on your belly growing steadily day by day, which only meant your sleep schedule only got worse. All your senses have been going into overdrive lately, every bump in the night making your eyes snap open. You groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, begrudgingly rousing your sluggish body from the haven of pillows and blankets. 
By this point, you and Alhaitham had announced to friends and family about your pregnancy, there were many tears of excitement shed that day. Followed by a steady stream of boxes and gifts placed into your or your husband's hands. These items ranged from teas to help with morning sickness to long loose maternity gowns. 
At first, you raised an eyebrow at the shapeless dresses your mother had gifted to you. Stating that they made you look like a lost ghost. However, now with your baby bump, the soft loose fabric felt divine against your sensitive skin. Carefully, pushing off the mattress you took your time gaining your balance. Moving has become troublesome because of your now shifted center of gravity.
Steadying yourself with a hand on the hallway wall you waddled toward the source of the commotion. As you grew closer to the room across the guest room, an extra space that was utilized as a small side library the barrage of noises stung your ears more. You felt irritation creeping up on you. 
Grasping your hand on the door frame you peered inside to see a head of blonde hair. Oh. It’s Kaveh. That explains the noise. 
You quietly observed the back of the unaware man as he continued to hammer furniture together. Your husband had told you earlier in the week that Kaveh would be coming over to help set up the nursery. He mentioned something about the blond having to pay off an old debt. 
Oh well, it saves you and Alhaitham the trouble of rearranging the furniture. 
“Ugh, that bastard has not changed a single bit. Who would choose such an ugly bassinet? His poor child will be welcomed into the world surrounded by ugly furniture.” 
Your lips pressed into a firm line. You had chosen the bassinet when out shopping with your husband. You bought it with your own money too. You thought it was quite cute… It’s cute, right? You waddled off to find your husband. 
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“Alhaitham…” Tighnri stood just to the left of the glass door of the small cafe, your favorite cafe. 
Your husband was exiting the door, a small chime from the bell hanging above his head announcing his departure. A brown take-out bag, that contained the padisarah pudding you have been craving for the fourth time this week, clutched firmly in his hand. Alhaitham greeted his fellow colleague with a nod of acknowledgment. 
“I know your wife is pregnant. However, food should be in moderation. Especially sweets. You should know that during pregnancy the change in hormones makes it harder for the body to control its levels of-”
The ashen-haired man raised one hand, signaling for the other to halt their lecture. 
“I acknowledge your expertise and advice. However, time is precious and to save both of ours, I invite you to take this debate up with my wife. To warn you beforehand, you will lose.” 
Tighnari let out a huff of exasperation, steps heading in the direction of your shared home with Alhaitham. Surely you were more reasonable than your Alpha husband at the moment. Tighnari knew it was in their primal instincts to pamper their mates, caving into any demand no matter how unreasonable or troublesome. 
The head secretary has always been a rather level-headed individual in his eyes, sometimes to a fault, so it must just be his instincts influencing his actions. Tignari even heard from a certain blond that the ashen-haired man had given him the deadliest glare because the architect had critiqued your taste in home decor. 
“It’s normal for people to have cravings during their pregnancies, and for the most part, it’s harmless. However, there is a whole misconception about the saying ‘eating for two’. In truth, you only need about an extra glass of milk and an extra pita pocket a day. You are feeding a small-”
Alhaitham stared ahead at the path in front of him, doing his best to tune out the ramblings of the shorter man walking beside him. He had one purpose, and that was to deliver your padisarah pudding to you. 
Tighnari was now walking in the direction of his own home, spirit shaking a bit. Like always, Alhaitham’s prediction was flawless. He lost. The defiant blank gaze you gave him at the doorway of your house was enough to make the ebony-haired Alpha stop his clearly unsolicited advice. In the end, you got your pudding.
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“That is all I have to report. Now that you have this knowledge, I trust that you will be able to decide if this proposition is fair or not. Here are the files for you to look through.” The ivory-haired Alpha placed the stack of papers on the smooth desk. 
“Understood. Thank you for the report, Cyno.” Alhaitham gathered the paperwork into his hands, beginning to skim through the contents. 
His teal-orange eyes soon left the crisp papers, peering at his colleague with an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t like the head lawyer to remain in his office after he finished delivering his information. 
“Is there any more you would like to discuss?” 
“Yes, I have prepared a gift for your child.” Cyno reached into his blazer pocket. 
Alhaitham hid his sigh. Your home was already littered with so many gifts and baby items, it was troublesome keeping the floors clear of any potential tripping hazards. You were now in your third trimester, slow steps more focused on your balance and the ache in your lower back than paying attention to the floor. 
Your husband wonders if he should have waited until he applied for maternity leave to tell his closest colleagues about your pregnancy. 
“Here.” Cyno handed him an engraved box.
Was this a TCG card case? Alhaitham’s unreadable eyes shifted between the case and the head lawyer’s eager eyes. Really, he should’ve expected this, he is already well aware of the tan Alpha’s obsession with the card game. 
“Thank you.” Your husband took the gift from the awaiting hand. 
“I custom-made the deck to be as beginner friendly as possible. Even still, these cards are staples in the game so this deck will be solid regardless of the changing meta. I made sure to have every card laminated as young children don’t know restraint. The box is also custom-made, it is made from solid wood but any sharp edges have been rounded out.”
“You didn’t have to go through so much unnecessary trouble.” Alhaitham wishes that Cyno didn’t. 
“Since most gifts have been either for your wife or for the child, I have prepared a gift for you as well.” Cyno reached into his inner coat pocket. 
This was unexpected. Your husband observed the tan man pull out a small journal. Stationary? You had already gifted Alhaitham a lifetime supply, but they were for only very important situations. So this could be a welcomed addition.
“I wrote down some of my best jokes for you to tell.” 
Nevermind. Alhaitham didn’t even want to reach for the small notebook. Cyno places it on top of the desk. 
“It’s unnecessary.” 
“It will help pass the time while entertaining your child. Your wife has been pregnant for a while now, it must feel like an maternity.” 
“...”
“Did you not get it? It’s because ‘maternity’ sounds like ‘eternity’ and-”
“I am very busy, head lawyer. Please excuse yourself from my office.”  
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 Alhaitham was aware of the concept of ‘pregnancy glow’ from the anatomical journals he read some time ago. However, seeing it in person was much different from what the book had described. Another example of how learning purely from books is not enough. 
You were radiant, features softer and skin glowing. The aura around you has also been much gentler, likely attributed to your constant drowsiness and lack of stress from work as you were now on maternity leave. More often than not, Alhaitham finds it hard to keep his hands off of you.
 Resting an open hand on your round belly, feeling the subtle shifts of your child as he reads. Hugging you from behind as you cook, it’s to support the baby he reasons. He offers his chest as a pillow whenever sleep calls for you regardless if it was on the couch, you needed your rest.
However, there’s a caveat: others can’t seem to keep their hands off you either. 
“Oh! What a strong kick! I think they have real potential for dance.” Nilou exclaimed as she felt your belly. 
“Haha, what a meddlesome kid already. Kicking your poor mommy.” Dehya also had one hand resting a top. 
“It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s a good sign that they’re healthy and strong.” You let out a small sigh. 
“Here, have another pillow to support you” Candace placed the soft cushion behind your back, relieving some of the pressure. 
“Thank you, Candace. Even though I’m going to become a mother soon, it seems you’ll always be the mom of our group.” You giggled, giving your friends a wide smile. 
“Oh, you flatter me too much.” Candace chuckled, joining the rest in feeling your round bump. 
Alhaitham sat in your usual spot on the adjacent sofa, trying to read his book. However, his teal eyes couldn’t help but peer over at the hands that were plastered all over your belly. Although his gaze remained neutral, his lips were slightly pressed into a line. Their hands didn’t need to linger for that long he surmises. 
“Have a safe trip back!” You bid your friends goodbye, it was nice to have visitors when you couldn’t leave the house easily. 
Alhaitham closes the front door after their figures disappeared into the distance, offering his muscular arm to support you. You gladly accepted, as your feet and joints sang with relief as pressure was shifted off of them. Slowly strolling down the hall back to the living room. 
Alhaitham presses a soft kiss against your temple, a clever diversion from his true intentions. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips or the scrunch of his nose. Your friends had drenched you in their scent, overpowering your subtle fragrance. Tsk, this is why others should keep their hands to themselves. 
“Let's take a shower. Of course, I’ll assist you.” 
“Mm? Haitham, it’s pretty early. We haven’t even had dinner.” 
“I’ll help you wash your hair as well.” 
“Haitham-”
“I’ll massage your shoulders and feet afterward.” 
“... Fine… remember to use the lotion as well.” 
“Of course.” 
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There was no reason to be nervous even as your due date grew closer and closer. A room at the Bimarstan has already been reserved. He had already prepared a hospital bag with extra clothes, blankets, and toiletries. Alhaitham also packed some books in there was well. However, as you began to count down the days, it’s hard not to notice the anticipation in the air. You were very much ready to meet your child and to finally not be pregnant anymore. 
“Do you think the child will be more like you or me?” You turned to face your husband as he lay in bed. 
“It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.” Alhaitham tucks a quilt from the nest up to your chin. 
“Oh? I think that if our child looks like you but has my personality, they’d be quite popular.” You pondered out loud. 
“Mm.” Alhaitham pulls you closer to him from behind, resting his chin atop your head. 
“Then if they resemble you, it's best that they have my personality. Lest our peaceful lives will be disrupted by a constant stream of suitors at the door.” He entertains your musing. 
Your soft giggle jingles through the air as you stroked your belly, his hands soon join yours. A comfortable silence encapsulated the two of you, his soft caresses lulling your heavy lids closed. This was the sweet calm lull of normalcy, and you both were satisfied. 
Alhaitham had closed his eyes, only for them to snap open with the sudden jolt of your body. Did the baby kick again? They sure are disruptive, he can already feel the long sleepless nights to come. However, there were still a few days to stock up on as much rest as possible. 
“Haitham, I think my water broke.” 
Nevermind. 
 You were holding onto his hand with an iron-clad grip, crushing his fingers together. However, he knew this was barely scratching the surface of the discomfort you were currently experiencing. If he could, Alhaitham would bare all your pain himself. 
However, he couldn’t so he’ll sit beside you in the Bimarstan, brushing the hair out of your sweat-socked face and whispering sweet nothings to encourage your efforts. You’ve been in labor now for about four hours. Alhaitham has decided that the first thing your child learns to write will be a thank you letter addressed to you. 
You were trying to keep your breathing as stable as possible, practicing the technique the midwife taught you. Put the pain of the contractions always broke your streak, making you have to start from the beginning to try and steady your breath. The midwives and doctors were encouraging you to push as hard as you could. You already were, but you took a deep breath and then held onto it. Giving it your all. 
--
“WWAAHHHHH!” 
A loud, piercing, yet beautiful cry echoed off the walls. 
“It's a boy!” The doctors announced. 
--
“He’s got quite the set of lungs.” You giggled, tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes. Cradling your newborn. 
Alhaitham only let out a gentle hum, resting his head on your shoulder as he gazes at his son. Eyes as soft as the little one’s plump cheeks. It was quite a riveting experience, how can one fall in love with a little stranger so quickly? 
“No more full nights rest for us when we return home, huh.” You rested your head on top of his ashen hair, smiling as you continued to stare at your little bundle. 
Your husband lets out a soft mixture of a hum and a chuckle. He’s already prepared himself to sacrifice sleep in order to nurture this little bond created between the two of you. 
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To your surprise and his great delight, your child sleeps through the nights well. A little too well. You had been released from the Bimarstan just a few days ago, the doctors all said your child was healthy. However, you couldn’t help but stare at him as if you were in a trance. 
“Come to bed, your body needs the rest to heal.” His warm touch grasped the sides of your shoulders, as Alhaitham pressed his face into your neck. Trying to lure you back. 
“Yes, I know but… just a little while longer.” You reached a hand up to tussle through his soft locks. 
Your eyes never stopped observing the small ups and downs of your little bundle of joy as he slept. Well, the face he made earlier when you had woken him up for his regular feedings sure wasn’t one of joy. He’s just like his father, grumpy when disturbed from the sweet embrace of sleep. But he needed to feed every three hours if he was to grow up healthily. 
“He’s quite a lot like you. A deep sleeper.”
“Oh? I think he’s quite like you, Haitham. You should’ve seen the mean mug he gave me.”
“I never scowl at you.”
“Yes, but you’re grumpy when woken up.”
“Hmph.” Your husband buries his face deeper into your nape. Teal eyes never breaking their gaze from the child you’ve gifted him. 
The air was quiet, yet warm and sweet. It was well past your preferred bedtime, but strangely not a single muscle felt tired as two pairs of eyes continued to study the small moments of his chest. 
“Should we head to bed now, Haitham?”
“Mm, perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make a drastic difference.” 
Fin~
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dressdaisy · 1 month
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könig x reader fluff <3
lately, you’d really gotten into cooking and trying out recipes. könig was sat at the kitchen counter, watching you crack eggs into a little, volcano shaped flour pile. as you prattle on about shapes of pasta you could make, you slip your wedding ring off.
poor, silly man feels his heart twinge at the sight, before you’re handing your ring to him. “hold on to it for me, will you? i don’t want to get it all icky with egg”, you wrinkle your nose playfully as you dive in to hand mixing the pasta dough. “i mean, i can easily wash my ring but it’s more about the principle, you know?” könig lets out a breath of relief as he smiles at you, feeling foolish for still getting anxious at even the slightest inkling of losing you.
humming softly, you knead the pasta dough while könig fiddles with your ring, tapping it against the counter and rolling it between his fingers. a while later, his smile grows wider with amusement when he holds his hand up, showing you how your ring can barely fit on his pinky. “such delicate hands, sonnenschein”, he teases, settling back into the domestic bliss. finishing up molding the dough into a smooth ball, you raise an eyebrow and crack a grin “well these delicate hands can make enough to feed a walking mountain, hm?”, you quip before leaning across the counter to press a soft kiss to his cheek.
in a blink, könig is on your side of the counter, pressing your back against it as he kisses you. you groan softly as you try to keep him from pressing against your flour covered apron, but he just smiles against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.
a/n: this is my first time trying to write haha. i hope you liked this silly little thing! i randomly imagined this scene yesterday afternoon and i just had to write about it🫶🏼
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hajiberry · 1 year
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12:34 am- Katsuki bakugou
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+ domestic fluff, pregnancy
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“No I hate that name”, bakugou grumbles as he flips a pancake, his back to you as you sit at the barstool.
“Katsuki, you hate every name”, watching as his back muscles flex a small smirk falls on your face.
“I do not I just haven’t liked any of the ones yo- what are you smirking about?”, he asks, turning around with a plate of pancakes in his hand.
“Nothing, go on you haven’t liked any of the ones I’ve picked out huh?”,
Rolling his eyes he sets the plate down in front of you, “not my fault you literally want our kid to be bullied”
Smacking his arm, you grab a pancake, rolling it up and taking a bite out of it before arguing “his parents are pro hero’s I highly doubt he’s gonna be bullied”, raising an eyebrow at you he leans his hip against the counter, plucking a pancake from the pile.
“I would’ve bullied icy hot as a kid and his dad was the number 2 hero”, he says with a shrug, earning another smack on the arm from you.
“You’re so mean”, you say with a small giggle, knowing he’s full of shit. “You’re just trying to deflect from the fact that you called him a close friend the other day”
Glaring at you he picks off a piece of his pancake, throwing it at your face, “you’re lucky your pregnant”, gasping you let out a laugh.
“What if I wasn’t you’d hit me?”,
Reaching over he grabs your face, squishing your cheeks, “yes, because that’s what I do”, he says with an eye roll, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“We gotta pick a name for real tho”, dropping your face he nods, taking another bite of his pancake.
“I know but we got 3 months to think of our little gremlins name”,
“You gotta stop calling our unborn son a gremlin kat”, you say with a small giggle.
Reaching his hand out toward your belly he gently caresses your swollen bump, “it’s his nickname till we can actually agree on a name”
Laughing, you roll your eyes, placing your hand over his, smiling up at your sexy baby daddy. “You look really hot by the way”, you mumble, giving him slight ‘fuck me’, eyes.
Raising an eyebrow he smirks at you, “yeah?”,
“Yeah, but it’s probably just the pregnancy hormones”,
Rolling his eyes, he leans down, invading your space, “I don’t really care why you’re turned on but if you wanna blame the hormones that works”, he mumbles against your jaw, leaving kisses down your neck. This late-night pregnancy craving snack was quickly turning into something else and you were not about to stop it.
“Wanna take me upstairs?”, you whisper, leaning your head back to let your husband have more access.
“Mhm”, he mumbles before lifting you, carrying you towards the stairs where you highly doubt any sleep will be taking place.
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rocketrhap3000 · 9 months
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the great shirt debate
summary: bucky and reader doing laundry together, pure domestic fluff
a/n: one of my old fics, rewritten for bucky <3
warnings: no use of y/n, beefy!bucky needs his own warning and there is one tiny reference to intimacy but otherwise this is 110% tooth rotting fluff and therefore i am not responsible for your dentist bill ;)
my main masterlist
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The pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room had only grown exponentially over the past two weeks. You and Bucky had both been nonstop working, which meant that the household chores got pushed aside. Luckily, the two of you are both relatively clean people, so the worst was really only the laundry, and the accumulation of Alpine’s pristine, white fur all over the floors and couches.
And after a lazy Saturday morning sleeping in (resting up after various intimate reunion activities after almost two weeks of no time together), you and Bucky finally decided to get on with the chores.
He took on the vacuuming - rearranging the furniture so he could get under and behind things -  while you started on the laundry. You emptied the hampers, stripped the beds, and filled up the washing machine for the first load before wandering back to the living room to check in on Bucky. From afar, you’re able to hear the soft whirr of the vacuum cleaner, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that falls upon your eyes when you walk into the living room.
Your six-foot-something super-soldier boyfriend has your pair of rose gold headphones over his ears, completely unbothered by the sound of the vacuum, and wiggling around, lip-syncing and dancing to whatever song is playing in the headphones as he sucks up the white cat hair from the navy shag area rug. He’s sporting a simple blue henley and a baggy pair of grey sweats that somehow still accentuate his bum perfectly, but he’s just so adorable that you can’t help but interfere with his task.
You walk up behind him, then snake your hands around his torso, and he reacts with a small jump, clearly not expecting you. He looks down at you with a loving smile, switches off the vacuum, then pulls his headphones off his ears, letting them rest around his neck, and you can hear that he’s listening to Ella Fitzgerald, ever the old soul.
“Boo,” you hum, softly scratching your fingers over his tummy.
“Gosh, you scared me, Sweets,” he laughs, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to pause the music, then pulls the headphones off his neck and tosses them to the couch.
“Sorry, you just looked too cute,” you giggle, and he turns around in your grasp, leaving the vacuum to stand on it’s own so that he can wrap his arms around you, too.
“Mm, thank you,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to sweetly kiss your forehead. “You’re pretty cute, too.”
You only keep him for a little while longer before you let him finish up his task so you can move onto tackling the mess of papers and random things that had collected on the kitchen island over the past two weeks, causing the sleek wooden countertop to barely be visible.
By the time you finish sorting things out, taking them to their proper spots in the house, and sanitizing the kitchen counter, you make it back into the laundry room to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer and put a new load in to be washed.
It’s not long before you’re back with Bucky, watching as he finishes up vacuuming the entryway. Then, the two of you break for lunch together. It’s nothing extravagant at all, but it’s just the simplicity of spending time together again that makes you feel all giddy inside. The two of you take some time to lounge on the couch after lunch, too, just taking in each other’s touch and affection that you’d missed so much.
Eventually, you both reluctantly decide you should get back into finishing up the laundry, since it’s the last thing to check off the list before you’re done with everything. Bucky puts on your Spotify playlist on the tv in the bedroom and the two of you get to work folding and putting away the first load of clothes to replenish your nearly empty closets.
You’ve dumped out the warm, fresh clothes onto the bed and sorted through the pile, each taking your own clothes to fold, but Alpine thinks you’ve made a nice, warm bed for her. Laughing, both you and Bucky shoo her away gently, and she makes her way to her spot on the windowsill, instead. 
It’s generally easy to find and separate your clothes; Bucky has a pretty select wardrobe of flannels, henleys, and earthy tones, so yours are easy to pick out among them. But sometimes, there are discrepancies as to whose clothes are whose.
“Oh, that one’s mine, too, Love,” you speak up, pointing to the navy v-neck on his side of the pile.
“This one?” he asks, placing his hand over one of his henleys.
“No, the blue tee,” you clarify.
“This one?” he asks again, this time picking up the right shirt, and you nod in confirmation. “Sweets, this is not yours,” he laughs.
“Yes it is,” you laugh back. “Hand it to me?”
“Sweets, it’s not yours. I swear I wore it like two days ago,” he tries to reason, but you’re not convinced.
You and Bucky share clothes frequently - well, you steal his clothes frequently - but you know for a fact that that is your shirt, even though you know Bucky would wear it, given the fact that sometimes his style choices consist of skin-tight tee shirts to unknowingly (or knowingly) flaunt his chiseled upper body. You’d never complain though; Bucky’s beefy, muscular form is absolutely perfect to you, and you love to see him comfortable in his own skin.
“I think you have one like it, but this is definitely my shirt. Look at the neckline, silly. Besides, this would’t even fit you, super soldier,” you laugh at him.
“You’d be surprised!” he laughs back.
“Mm, I know some of your shirts are like a second skin and I’m definitely not one to complain,” you tease, and he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “But this is one hundred percent my shirt, Bucky.”
“It’s mine, Sweets,” he grabs it from you again with another laugh, then folds over the neckline seam to look inside. “Look at the… tag."
“Mhm,” you cross your arms over your chest pridefully.
“There is no tag,” he deadpans, blush rising up from his neck and settling on his cheeks.
“What an astute observation, Detective Barnes. And why do you think that is?” you tease, taking a step closer to him to poke his taut tummy.
“Because you cut the tags off all your shirts...” he gives his answer, rolling his eyes in defeat.
“Which leaves us with the only conclusion!” you taunt him.
“It’s your shirt,” he sighs, folding the shirt ever so neatly before respectfully setting it down on your side of folded clothes.
“Mm, thank you,” you hum with a giggle, wrapping your arms around him and resting your cheek against his chest. “But if you really wanna borrow it, I’m sure you’d look great in it, Buck,” you tilt your head up to look at him, and his bashful smile makes your heart skip a beat.
“Oh, stop,” he chuckles softly back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
~~~
thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated and help my blog out so much 💘
Bucky taglist below, link in bio to be added :)
@lharrietg​​​  @enchantedbarnes​​​  @buchanansebba​​​ ​  @verygraphicink​​​​  @writing-for-marvel​​​  @marvelatthetwilight​​​   @jackiehollanderr​​​​  @lets--be-honest​​​​   @writerwrites​​​​ ​​​  @arabescapr​​​​  @real-jane​​​​  @mellyteddybear-blog​​​​ @listenthemoose​​​​ @lhharrysworld​​​​ @mcufossilman​​​​ @danireal17​​​​​​​ @hallecarey1​​​​ @selluequestrian​​​​ @engie115​​​​ @emi11ie​​​ @matchat3a​​​ @sonicisnotsober​​​ @balekanemohafe​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @seitmai​​​ @dracosluvbot​​​ @caplanbuckybarnes​​​ @midgardianminx​​​​ ​ @jesslove23-blog​​​ @dumb-fawkin-bitch​​​ @jessybarnes​​​ @pandaxnienke​​​ ​ @alexxavicry​​  @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ @rach2602 @samlworld @nsuiswitch @thearieunhinged​
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azullumi · 5 months
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“grocery shopping” ; genshin men
summary — a certain notion appears inside your mind, like a lightbulb on top of your head as if you were having an eureka moment when in fact, you weren’t. it was just a silly idea in which you are curious to know the answer to. alternatively, just your average grocery shopping with him with a little twist and that being placing every item that you see into the cart.
includes — various genshin men (w/gender-neutral reader)
tags — fluff, established relationship, a sprinkle of domestic, set in a modern setting ; headcanons
words — 1215
note — honestly this is just me and my mom whenever we go out for groceries (i always put everything that i see in the cart) ; this is the first time i’ve written after so long, aside from those stupid essays i have to do for school
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;; Will let you be, however, he will put some of the items back
He doesn’t show an ounce of care and will just let you have your fun, for now. Because yeah, sure, you can add that box of mugs that are identical to the ones you have at home, dear, but that doesn’t mean you’ll see it getting packed into the grocery bags; Oh, that ladle set sure does look nice (you won’t see it in your place ever). He’ll let you indulge in your pleasures and won’t deny you of it, however, so much can only one do in this economy and some of the things that you are putting in is exceeding that. He’ll put some of the things back whenever you are not looking, trying not to get noticed. Perhaps you won’t notice it at first when a few things are missing and somehow, the cart doesn’t seem to get full no matter how many you are adding to it. He’ll act so innocent and naive when you ask him about it, however, smiling at you softly and asking you what you are talking about. He’ll only tell you of it once you’re on your way back with the bags, expressing an apology that he has to remove some of the things in the cart that you added and you two will get it again next time.
Thoma, Baizhu, Tighnari, Venti
;; Will get another cart
Oh no, dear, the cart is full already? You just have to wait there and he’ll get another one for you, so for the meantime, you can scope and look out for other items that you want to get. One word, supportive. Or maybe he just loves to spoil you a lot. Either way, he clearly lets you do whatever you want; he’s a little bit of an enabler, perhaps. The weight of the groceries is nothing compared to the affection he has for you. You don’t even have to look at the price either—he advises you not to do so because that’s not really a concern (for him, atleast). Really, he loves you a lot to the point that he is willing to just watch you as he pushes the quite heavy cart and carries a basket like how you would carry a bag with just your arm (need yourself a man who’ll willingly push the cart for you and follow you around). He doesn’t mind it, it’s only one of the many things that he’ll do for you. There’s just one thing, however. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the pile of things you got so before paying it on the counter, you’ll have to return many of them.
Ayato, Pantalone, Diluc, Childe
;; Will be silent and confused but will let you be
At first, it starts off just like how it usually would: you grab some of the things that you need and want then place it in the cart as you two walk around the store and he simply lets you do as you want, just like your normal day of grocery shopping with him. Until several items were placed into the cart later and he had to question himself, why? Are those needed? What would you need a new blender for when there is a completely functional and working one at your home? He’s visibly confused but he will simply let you be because how could he stop you when you’re clearly enjoying whatever you are doing and he adores watching you in such light—you, simply, just walking and being with him has him falling head over heels for you. In lieu of that, it’s probably the reason why he’ll let you get away with doing some things including whatever you are doing (but that doesn’t mean he won’t be having any questions). Oh, how long the receipt will be. He will have to stop you as soon as the cart gets full and there is no more room for other important items, however. I mean, come on, there are more knives and cups there than there are for eggs and milk together.
Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Alhaitham
;; Will question every item you’ll put in
Is that really necessary? What’s that? Do you want it? He’s quite verbal on what is happening, becoming (your) voice of reason on this whimsical notion. His reaction is a mix of everything, he’ll let you add whatever you want but at the same time, he’ll place some of it back and would’ve stopped you from adding a few—perhaps he’ll also express his confusion, but never will there be annoyance: “Where are you going to use that for?” He’ll act more like a mother asking their child what in the world are they adding into the cart, just without the scolding part and telling you how it is expensive and you’re not the one paying for everything. He doesn’t mind you placing many things as long as they are essential and of necessity. He’ll let in a few of your wants here and there but not so much that it will consume half of the space of the cart. He’s more on the rational side of things, keeping you grounded to reality and that reality being the costs, the amount of things you’ll have to carry on the way back, and where you will even place some of those products that you completely don’t need.
Wanderer/Scaramouche, Cyno, Xiao, Kaveh
;; Will join you in adding those random things
All became a game of fun with him just as quick as you placed that one vase in the cart. Well, everything feels like a game with him even if it’s as simple as who’ll finish their food first. It’s silly, if you are going to be honest. You two were acting like children whose both of their parents lost sight of them at the store and are now running around the place, each with their own cart of their own (random) items. The competition? Who fills their cart first is the winner (with no duplicate items). Whenever you two would have an accidental encounter, you would check each other’s cart and see who has more then proceed to tease one another of who is the winner. However, the reality of the situation dawns over you two when you remember that you have to bring these things to the counter and pay for it—and the fact that you have to return, if not all, most of the items back to their proper places. By then, you two would have to start over the grocery shopping adventure again but this time, only with what is completely necessary in your cart. You’ll still have your own fun with him in this busy place, nonetheless.
Itto, Childe, Heizhou
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© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
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mosaickiwi · 2 months
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MC/Angel relaxing with Fox Ren giving him all the smooches and cuddles~!!! Or daily life with Redacted with MC/Angel as a house spouse teehee~!!!
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Kinda sorta combined them oopsies teehee <3 <3 da best fluffy boi
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
~Literal Domestic Fluff~
You’d been busy since Ren left to patrol the territory early that morning. With him out of the way, cleaning up was admittedly easier. The kitchen was spotless, paw prints in the hallways scrubbed away, and the laundry almost finished. A scant few linens fresh from the dryer lay in the basket at your feet, one being carefully folded as you lounged in your favorite window seat to bask in the setting sun.
You paused to bring the warm fabric up to your face. The pleasant floral scent of the detergent was nice, but nothing compared to the fresh mountain air you’d finally gotten used to over the months. You opened the window all the way to let in a breeze.
Something immediately felt different, almost relaxing about the faintly cool air flowing past. It took a moment to realize the real source of the calm that washed over you.
A familiar presence was running through the sparse trees that lined the farthest edge of the garden. Before you could even call their name, he was making leaps and bounds on pink-toed paws to cross the short expanse of greenery between you. In a matter of seconds the ethereal fox morphed into a shape closer to human as they approached, though the tails and ears stayed in place. He came to a skittering halt outside the window.
“Angel!” Ren excitedly spoke as he reached up to you, a sparkle to his pale blue eyes. 
You dropped the blanket and leaned over the window sill to take hold of his outstretched hand, placing a quick kiss to his forehead for good measure. For once, you were the one towering over him—if only by a few centimeters. “Hi, Ren,” you said with a smile.
His excitement only seemed to intensify at your affections. Nine fluffy tails began to wag in delight while you carded your other hand through his hair. “I missed you.”
“Really? I couldn't tell,” you teased, waving away a couple stray leaves and flower petals from his pointed ears. “I missed you, too.”
Your bonded partner immediately flushed pink at your response, then something caught his attention that made his nose wrinkle. “Are you okay? Was it too cold while I was gone?” 
You weren't sure what he meant until you followed his gaze to the disheveled blanket next to you on the cushioned seat. You shook your head to calm him down. “Just doing laundry.”
He was hesitant to accept your answer, but the second kiss you pressed to his lips seemed to distract him well enough. Ren stood up straighter, determined to make it last as long as possible. Shivers ran up your spine when his fingers carefully settled along the base of your neck to keep you steady. 
Though you weren't quite finished, you were forced to pull away and breathe. “Hmm, maybe I am a little cold. We should—hey!” you suddenly laughed, gently pushing them back. He was practically crawling through the window to reach you at the mere suggestion of cuddling. “Let me finish up, okay? Just a few minutes. And use the front door.”
His ears fell flat in embarrassment as he nodded and settled down. No longer crowding the window, but still on his toes to better see what you were doing.
You took your time folding the blanket and what was left in the basket. It was hard to ignore the focused gaze of the man, nor the way he noticeably perked up once you finished folding something, only to pout at the next piece of fabric you grabbed. With a little less willpower you would've abandoned the laundry far sooner to give them all of your focus.
Eventually, you had a neat and tidy pile of sheets to put away. A quick peek from the corner of your eye in their direction was enough to alert him. He bolted from the window in an instant, just for you to hear him loudly sprinting through the villa’s many hallways seconds later. There was barely any time to stand up before you were scooped up in their arms.
He nuzzled into your neck with an almost desperate sigh as he mumbled, “I’m sorry I was away for so long, beloved.” You could faintly feel his teeth nipping at the skin above your collarbone. “Y’smell different.”
“Huh? Oh.” You made a mental note to find a scentless laundry detergent on your next outing into town. Maybe it would bother him less.
The warmth of his silky tails enveloped you, barely tickling you when they brushed back and forth over your form. As he carried you from the room, tucked safely close to their chest, you happily gave them the attention they’d been waiting for.
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just-jordie-things · 3 months
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cherry blossom - inumaki toge
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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
word count: 9.3k warnings: shibuya mentions, toge says some words bc i'm not god ok, drinking summary: you've always had all the time in the world to figure out what you were to each other. falling in love is meant to be slow and sweet, after all. more info: friends to lovers, fluff without plot really (yeah i'm making that a thing)
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[ what you don’t tell no one, you can tell me // little ghost, tall, tan like milk and honey // you’re very brave, and very free ]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Inumaki Toge was very close with all of his friends.  He cherished them in ways he could only dream of vocalizing.  Instead, with his cursed speech, he was limited to smaller forms of appreciation to show them how he cared.  Remembering Yuuta’s favorite drink, punching Maki on the shoulder to tell her she did a great job, passing notes with Panda to pull off a silly prank- his love language was an odd one for sure, but it never went unnoticed.  His friends cared for him just as much.
(y/n) was different, though.
It was no secret to the others- if it had been, it would’ve been a terribly kept one- even without the ability to voice it, it would have been useless to try.  There was no denying the way that he treated her, the way he looked at her, it was unlike all the others.  If she was speaking, his attention was on her, even in a crowded room, even if someone was talking over her, Toge listened to every word, actively engaged in whatever the topic was.
He always sat next to her, always picked her as a training partner, always reached out to her first when making a plan, she lived on the front of his mind rent free, and Toge was more than content to let her.
“Funny, or sad?” She asks him now, drawing him out of his dreamy thoughts and bringing him back to reality.  She’s perched at the end of his bed, two dvd cases in either hand presented to him.  His gaze shifts between the two as he mulls it over.
If he chooses funny, then he’ll get to hear her giggles for the next two hours, followed by her pretty voice repeating all her favorite lines to send her into fits of laughter again.  He likes that option.
But the other movie in her hand is a favorite of hers.  He wouldn’t describe it as sad as she had, but the uplifting message did tug at the heartstrings, and he’s caught her crying over it multiple times in the few years he’s known her.  So he gestures to that one, reveling in the way she lights up before she’s getting off the bed in order to get his dvd player setup.  
It was actually her dvd player, Toge was more of a Netflix guy, but with her collection of movies and the frequency at which she hauled it all over to his room, they’d silently decided to just leave it in his room.  Sure, it might have been easier for them to have movie nights in her room where she didn’t have to unplug the Xbox every time to watch a movie, but Toge would never suggest such a thing, and she’s never brought it up either.  He likes having some of her things in his room.  
For a little while, it could help him feel like they were living a more domestic, normalized life.  Sometimes, he would set up her movies from that week on his shelf in alphabetical order, or fold up the blanket she’d left behind, and he could pretend that things were… different.
“I’ll have to add a box of tissues to the pile” She says, eyeing the plastic bag of snacks that the two of them had just gone out for.  
It was routine at this point, rush out to the convenience store, buy more snacks than they agreed on, and then rush back to campus to get the movie started before it was too late.  These were his favorite days.
With her back turned as she got the dvd player plugged in, Toge clicked his tongue to get her attention.  She glances back at him right away, her curious look blooming into a full, beautiful smile as he raises a little plastic package of tissues, wiggling it in the air happily.
“You’re perfect!” She laughs to herself before going back to the console, placing the disk inside with an eager little dance.  
Toge thinks it’s adorable that she’s so excited to watch a movie that will make her cry.  He could be biased though- he thinks everything she does is adorable.
Once the movie starts, she’s quick to jump back onto the bed, crawling up into the space beside him, snatching up the back of treats on the way.  Toge watches her, it’s only the opening credits playing anyways, it’s not like he was missing anything yet.  (y/n) catches his eye, raising a brow as she tilts the bag towards him.
There’s not exactly a way for him to tell her that his staring was just because he liked when she didn’t tuck her hair back and it fell in that messy way it did, not because he was waiting for his turn with the snack bag.  So he gives her a lopsided smile and takes the offering.
“If you open the chips I want some” (y/n) hums, her eyes already back on the screen as the movie begins.  Toge chuckles, pulling out the green bag of sour cream and onion flavored chips, even though he’d been eyeing the package of chocolate chip cookies.
(y/n) turns to him again, this time with a mock pout on her lips.
“Are you laughing at me?”
It makes him laugh a little more, even as he’s shaking his head to convince her otherwise.  He opens the bag of chips and tilts it towards her as a peace offering.  She gladly accepts it, her frown melting back into her syrupy smile as she snatches a few chips and settles in again to watch the movie.
As expected, she’s tearing up before anything’s really happened yet.  Toge knows she’s already thinking about the real tear-jerking moments later on.  Her emotions sometimes overwhelmed her- not just when watching heartwarming movies, but with handling the everyday things that came with the life of a jujutsu sorcerer.  It was hard when one of her closest friends was sent away on long assignments overseas, it was hard when there were casualties on assignments, it was hard training every day and trying to be better, all the while doubting herself and her abilities.
There were some times that she’d come by and they wouldn’t lounge around watching movies.  Sometimes she’d visit him just to sit quietly and take in the comfort of his presence.  Toge never minded these days.  He was just relieved that there was some way he could help her feel better- although he didn’t always understand what it was that worked.  It’s not like he could talk her down from the bad feelings, all he really did was sit there, maybe hold her hand if she needed, often listening to whatever was on her mind.
“He’s the one that makes me think of you” (y/n) points to the screen when a new character pops up.  A teenager, with shaggy, jet black hair, and a perpetual frown on his face as he’s on screen.
Toge mirrors the frown, turning to (y/n) with furrowed brows as he awaited a proper explanation.  She only giggles to herself as she continues munching on her snack, not bothering to explain how a character who looks and behaves nothing like him could possibly have her making a connection between the two.
He started to wonder if it was time to change his hair again, but as the movie progressed, he began to understand.  The kid had taken a vow of silence, and hadn’t spoken a word the entire movie.  Yet somehow, his thoughts and feelings were portrayed perfectly.  As the viewer, Toge was never left wondering what was going through his head.  Admittedly, he grew attached to this character quickly, and he found his focus latching onto the plot now with fervor.
Noticing this, (y/n) smiled to herself as she tucked herself further into the pile of pillows behind her.  It always warmed her heart to see him take interest in the things she liked.  Maybe even too much.
It’s mostly quiet between them as the movie continues, they don’t like to talk too much during movies, only comments deemed important enough to share before the end, or the ask to pass the snacks.  They usually would have a discussion at the end anyways, sharing all of their thoughts and favorite parts with one another.
Soon enough the couple hours passed, the snacks were mostly deplenished, and (y/n) was half asleep, eagerly asking him how he liked the movie despite the tears in her eyes that she was still wiping away with the half-used supply of tissues.
He nods back at her, chuckling softly at the sight of her still being so teary eyed when the movie had ended ten minutes ago.  Her lip is still wobbly and even as she folds and re-folds the tissue to keep wiping away the trail of tears.
Toge maneuvers onto his side, facing her with a small smile before taking the tissue from her hands.
“Mustard leaf” He says quietly, before reaching back out and drying up the trail of tears that she’d missed, down her cheek, and then along her jaw.  She sniffles between a watery giggle.
“Thank you,” Her voice cracks, and she laughs quietly again.  “That movie is just too much sometimes,” She explains, and Toge hums in understanding.  This wasn’t nearly as bad when they watched Wall-E.  “But I love it, what did you think?” 
“Salmon roe” He replies with a larger beam, which she mirrors right away, before her head feels a little heavier on his pillow.
“Okay, good,” She murmurs before a yawn overtakes her, and Toge’s eyes widen in realization when she tucks the blanket over her shoulders.  She’s going to fall asleep.  He starts to move to shake her awake, one hand curling around her shoulder and tugging slightly, but she doesn’t respond to his silent pleas telling her to get up.  “I’m really glad you liked it, you can pick the movie next time though” 
Toge huffs when she shuts her eyes and nuzzles into the pillow again.  It’s no use.  She’s already drifting off right in front of him.
“Bonito flakes” He mutters.
“It’s alright,” (y/n) yawns again.  “Just wake me up in, like, twenty minutes and I’ll go back to my room so we don’t get in trouble” 
Toge already knows how that’s going to go, but she’s out like a light mere seconds later.  He hasn’t seen anyone fall asleep so quickly.
With another sigh, he turns off the tv and places the remainder of the tissue package on his nightstand along with the remote.  It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep on his back beside her, even when his brain is working overtime trying not to hyperfixate on her leg pressed against his, or her soft breaths fanning over his shoulder as she sleeps.
His dreams are pleasant, with soft swirls of warm colors, sweet sensations of gentle touches and the lingering scent of cherries and vanilla, melodious giggles and whispers made of but sugar coated words.  The kind of dreams that you wake up from and wish there were just a few more minutes to latch onto the remnants of the hazy feeling.
As expected, (y/n’s) still there when he wakes up the following morning- not that he’d tried all too hard to send her back to her own room last night.  He just couldn’t bear to disrupt her peaceful sleep beyond a few whispers of her name and pokes to her forehead.
She’s awake not long after him, but she settles back into the covers, murmuring a raspy good morning to him.  SHe doesn’t seem startled by the surprise sleepover in the slightest, and the nerves Toge had let fester the last ten minutes of sitting awake and waiting for her to wake up.
There were still a few minutes of her being in and out of sleep, but after a while she’s stretching and getting herself out of bed with the promise of grabbing them both pop tarts before they had  to start training for the day.
Toge perks up at the prospect of pop tarts, and she giggles at his obvious change in demeanor, before telling him she’ll be quick, and taking off from his room.
He knows he should be rushing around to get ready for the day, but he can’t  bring himself to get up from the bed just yet.  It’s too warm, too comfortable, too alluring with the lingering scent of cherry vanilla still clinging to the sheets.
His heart feels full as he settles back in for just a few more minutes.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
(y/n) felt love for all of her friends.  She always sort of had, it developed not long after meeting each and every one of them.  She loved Maki’s ambition, Panda’s humor, Yuuta’s passion, each and every one of them were simultaneously the greatest person she’s ever known.  Her friends were her livelihood, her reason for fighting, her reason for trying, she doesn’t think she’d ever be able to repay them for what they’ve done for her.  The love she held for them was the purest kind there was.
The love she held for Inumaki Toge was different, though.
She loved Toge the way she loved late spring, with the way the pretty pink cherry blossoms begin to bloom, and the cool breeze turns warm, and suddenly everything doesn’t seem so gloomy and bitter all the time.  The sun seems to shine a little brighter and everyone seems to feel a little brighter, too.  It was exactly how loving Toge felt.
It was no secret to the others- if it had been, it would’ve been a terribly kept one, seeing as she could barely unglue herself from his side at any time.  If he entered a room, she would rush towards him.  If he came back from an assignment with an injury- no matter if it was life threatening or just a paper thin slice, she was patching him up with the utmost care Shoko’s infirmary could offer.  If Toge wasn’t around, she was texting him everything that was going on to keep him in touch.
There was nothing that brought her peace and joy quite like being around Toge.
She giggles as she tips her cup against her lips, sipping at the remnants of the drink she’d made only fifteen minutes ago.  Yuuta was sure to scold her when she wandered her way into the kitchen for the third time in an hour.
Toge’s laughter follows shortly after hers, although he’s not sure what exactly they’re giggling about, he just can’t help himself once she gets going.
His brows pinch together when he shakes his head, trying to ask her what it is that made her giggle fit erupt in the first place.  Once she’s calmed down enough to realize this, she grabs him by the shoulder.
At first his expression morphs into surprise, his eyes wide as he stares at her closely, before she’s swiveling him suddenly, guiding his eyes to the sight that was cracking her up.
Panda was in the common room, clearly feeling himself as he danced about, all slow twirls and raised arms.  He looks positively ethereal- in that loaded sort of way.
He’s quick to pull out his phone, setting his cup down to use both hands to steady the camera on Panda’s drunken ballet- or, attempt at ballet.  (y/n’s) giggling from beside him would definitely be caught in the video later, but neither of them minded, it only added to the humor of it all.
Maki must’ve noticed what they were up to, as she sneakily made her way over to the pill-shaped speaker, where she turned the volume up a few more notches.  This only excited Panda, who picked up the pace in his dancing.  (y/n) has to smack a hand over her mouth to stifle the cackle that erupts from her throat, but Toge doesn’t match her haste, and his laughter is almost louder than the music itself.
With a gentle smack to his shoulder, (y/n) shoots him a warning look, silently telling him to quiet down before Panda notices their recording.
Of course, Panda’s already noticed, his paws on his hips as he gawks at his so-called friends who were just making fun of him with their less than subtle camera pointed in his direction.
“Laugh it up, at least I’m having fun!” He points an accusatory finger at the two before turning his chin up with a dramatic flair.  Toge rolls his eyes, and just as he’s about to end the video, (y/n’s) face pops up on the camera.
“He’s right!” She says, a bit too loudly for standing right in front of him, but drinking always raised her volume.  She’s setting her cup down then, before reaching her free hand out to Toge, tugging on his wrist and disrupting the video that was still being recorded.  “We should dance!” 
“Mustard leaf!?” He replies, and she laughs, knowing it was his way of repeating ‘dance!?’ With uncertainty and surprise.
Her cheeks are pink, and he can’t make out if it’s because of the alcohol in her system, or if it was the brazen invitation of asking him to dance.  He’s not given much time to decipher it’s cause before she’s pulling harder at his wrist, and without another moment’s hesitation, Toge pockets his phone and follows her silent plea.  Distantly, he realizes she’s never had to work too hard to convince him of anything.
Maybe that was why they were all up far too late drinking together and dancing when they knew damn well that they had training bright and early tomorrow.
Panda’s cheering when (y/n’s) managed to drag Toge all the way into the common room where the music is playing the loudest.  He’s already resumed his twirling as if Fleetwood Mac is playing and not Joan Jett, but he’s enjoying himself, and no one is about to ruin his fun… again.
Toge’s never really danced before, besides the occasional sway from side to side, or a head bop.  So as soon as she starts swinging her hips and dragging his arm back and forth where she’s still got a grip on his wrist, he goes as stiff as a board.
It doesn’t take long before it dawns on her that he hasn’t been dancing, and she frowns at him, pulling at his arm to get him to come closer so she could talk to him.
“Why won’t you dance with me?” She asks, and it breaks his heart so completely that he can’t hide the way his face falls at her question.  (y/n) brightens up immediately, a string of bubbly laughter falling from her lips as she shakes her head.  “It’s not hard, just, move,” She says, shuffling her feet from side to side, her hips following in a languid motion.  “See?” 
He rolls his eyes at her, and she smacks his shoulder with her free hand, her semi-aggressive way of telling him he was making it a bigger deal than necessary, before both of her hands grab at his, and she guides him through the motions more properly.
The song that’s playing is upbeat, so she finds it easy to wave their arms together to the melody, while her hips keep the beat of the bass line.  After a few jolty movements on his part, he eventually begins to mirror, and just as she thought, he gets the hang of it and doesn’t look so awkward dancing with her.
(y/n) can’t wipe her grin off her face as she continues to move their hands about in sporadic motions, sometimes to the beat, sometimes at random.  Toge just latches his hands onto hers and lets her do whatever she pleases.
She’s never had to talk him into doing anything, he was always following her, whatever she was doing.
“See? It’s fun!” She’s the image of gleeful, twirling herself under one of his arms before prompting him to do the same.
Toge manages a few ‘salmon’s between her antics, before she starts to get more energetic with the beginning of the next song.  She claims it’s a classic 2000’s dance beat, and that it would be criminal if they didn’t dance through it, too.
Of course that turned into a third dance, then a fourth, and along with them a few more drinks.  They lose track of time, and eventually the rest of the world seems to fall away, too.  It’s a Wednesday night- well, early Thursday morning now- but all responsibilities that the day will hold is far from their minds.  It’s hard to notice that their friends have even started to wind down.  Panda had collapsed on the floor with a pile of empty water bottles surrounding him, currently chugging down another one.  Maki was scrolling through her phone nursing her own water, physically present, but too tired to engage in any more activities tonight.
And (y/n) and Toge were dancing around, jumping on their feet and twirling each other about like the night was still young and they had all the energy in the world.  Until eventually, Maki had given up on adding anything to the queue, and random songs they’d never heard of were playing, (y/n) still insisted that he stay up with her and keep dancing until they couldn’t anymore.
That was, until Maki retreated to her room for the night, and with her went the music.  (y/n) tried her best to plead with her to stay, but unfortunately Maki wasn’t as suggestable to her puppy dog eyes as Toge was.
“(y/n), listen to me closely,” Maki said in an uncharacteristically sweet voice, even going so far as to run a hand through her drunk friend’s hair.  Thinking that she was going to stay at the ‘party’- if it could still be called that- (y/n) gleamed up at her with a syrupy smile and heavy eyelids.  “Get some water, and get to bed” 
(y/n) deflated immediately.
“Makiiii~” She whined, and made another noise of dissatisfaction when she lost the physical affection, too.
“No buts!” Maki quips as she walks away with her phone and powered down speaker in hand.  “Toge, if you keep her up, then you’re dealing with the consequences tomorrow!” Maki barks at the other culprit to (y/n’s) deluded party-mode state.
“Salmon!” He hollers back, bringing his hand to his forehead in an all too serious salute.  It brings out a load of giggles from (y/n) that has Maki sending one last warning glare at the two before she finally leaves.
Yeah, she absolutely wasn’t dealing with that mess in the mornings.
“She doesn’t hate us,” (y/n) sighs out to Toge, unprovoked, but he can tell she’s completely serious by the way she stares up at him.  “She’s just grumpy she has to get up in the morning” 
Toge raises his eyebrows with slight concern, before twirling his finger around in a short circle between them.
(y/n’s) jaw drops as she gapes at him.
“I know we do too,” She argues.  “But it’ll be fine, I’m used to waking up early” 
He gives her a look, but she doesn’t relent in her stare.  So he pulls his phone out to show her the time.
2:48 A.M.
But her eyes barely register the hour, instead she’s glued to the wallpaper on his lockscreen, and she’s lighting back up with energy as she reaches for his phone and snatches it before he could react.
It was ridiculous how she maintained her speed and strength even when intoxicated.  Toge wondered if it was safe for jujutsu sorcerers to drink this heavily. 
“Is this us?” She asks, even though she was currently admiring the photo of the two of them on his lockscreen.
Toge’s quick to zip up his collar in order to hide the heat flushing his cheeks.
“This is so cute!” She delights in the image, cradling his phone in both hands as though to preserve it with great care.  
The picture isn’t even new to her, and she’d been the one to take it.  A few months ago she’d tried her hand at baking, and had been quite eager to bring a cinnamon cake to a hangout with the rest of their friends.  She might’ve promised it before she was certain of her baking abilities, and had required Toge’s help not long into the process.  As happy as he was to aid her in her new hobby, he couldn’t help but find humor in just how helpless she seemed to be in the kitchen at first.  She hardly even knew her way around the cabinets.  Hours later the cake had turned out just fine- their friends had even gone for seconds- but not without it’s difficulties.
Toge had snapped the photo when the cake had just been put into the oven, before they began the tedious cleanup process.  She had flour in her hair and some stuck to her cheek.  It was a good thing she’d chosen to wear an apron because it was covered in the various ingredients they’d used.  But despite the messy state of herself and the kitchen in the background, she was grinning from ear to ear, clearly excited to see the results of her cake soon.  Toge’s mirroring the smile, although there’s not a speck on him.  After the whole process, he’d managed to keep himself completely clean.
“I didn’t know you made this your wallpaper, that’s really sweet,” She’s handing him his phone back after the torturous few seconds are over, and Toge slips it into his pocket quickly.  His blush might’ve been hidden by the collar of his jacket, but it was still made obvious by his shifting eyes that couldn’t quite meet hers.
“That was a really fun day actually, we should bake something together again sometime!” She lights up, and he can tell that she’s already trying to think of something to go make right now.  It’s clear she’s already forgotten the time- or maybe she just didn’t care that much.  “We could-” 
“Tuna tuna” Toge gives her a look, before tapping the back of his wrist a few times, hoping to remind her of the task at hand.
It was no wonder Maki rushed off to her own dorm.
(y/n) huffed in annoyance, but ultimately followed alongside him as he tried ushering her out of the common room and towards the dorms.  She stumbled along and tried to slow him down, came up with a few more mumbled excuses to stay up later, all of which were met by quiet chuckles and reminders of ‘tuna’.
It took some ping-ponging down the halls, but eventually he got her to her room, and even though the night was over, she seemed rather pleased to be back in her own room.
“Spicy cod roe” Toge barely mumbles the words out as he’s gesturing about her room to her, before raising his hand to his mouth to mimic drinking a cup of water.
She smiles back at him in perfect understanding before she gives him a nod of her head.
Her movements are lazy as she strolls about the room to get changed into something she can sleep in.  Her coordination was less than subpar compared to her usual level of functioning, but that wouldn’t be a problem for another few hours.
It’s not long before there’s a knock on her door, and she’s opening it with the brightness of a christmas tree when Toge is on the other side with two bottles of water.
Wordlessly, she invites him in by stepping aside and pulling the door open further.  Toge passes off one of the bottles to her as he does so.
“Are you staying?” She asked, nodding to the bottle still in his hand.  “We can watch a movie?” She offers hopefully.
It’s a little past three in the morning now.  He tries to give her a look to reminder of this, but she doesn’t seem to care when she sticks her bottom lip out and folds her hands together in a pleading motion.
He sighs, and she brightens up again.  It’s almost comical how small but sweet of a smile could have him agreeing to anything.  It’s almost as if she’s the one with a cursed technique designed to compel, and not him.
While glancing through the array of dvds on her shelves, Toge wonders what things would be like if the roles had been reversed.  If he was the one able to tell her his every thought and feeling as they pass.  He wonders if she would have known how he felt about her a long, long time ago.
He’d dealt with his cursed speech in the best way that he could.  Of course he didn’t love it, of course things would be easier if he could talk like anyone else, he could gamble a good ninety percent of his life would’ve gone smoother.  No more stupid rice ball ingredients, and no more hoping that just a look would be enough to communicate to the girl he loves that he loves her.  That he purely, wholly, desperately loves her.
He picks out a dvd and pops it into her player- she’d dragged it back into her room last week after waking him up in the middle of the night because she was in the mood to watch one of her favorites.  Once the opening credit scenes start to roll, he finds that she’s already cozied up on one side of the bed, her blanket tucked to her chin, and her water bottle cradled in both of her hands.  She smiles when he turns to her, and then pats the space beside her, waiting patiently for him to sit with her.
He lets out a sigh as he sinks into the mattress beside her.  He taps his wrist twice before raising his hand and pinching his thumb and forefinger together, an easy way to gesture just for a little bit.
“Okay,” (y/n) nods, then takes the edge of her blanket to throw it over his lap too.  “Just for a little bit” Her voice is merely a hum, words slurred together just a little bit, but there’s not a flicker of uncertainty in her features when she gazes upon him.
It’s only a few minutes into the movie when she slumps against him, the entire side of her body pressed into his, from their shoulders to their legs.  Toge chuckles as she begins to give in to her exhaustion, and as sweet as it was that she got cuddly when she was drunk and sleepy, he prayed she’d pass out soon so that the morning wouldn’t be so rough.  They were well past getting a full eight hours before training tomorrow, and dealing with Gojo alone would be a burden.  Not because he would go rough on them- but because as soon as he sniffed out a little bit of a hangover, he’d be relentless with his teasing.
(And he might tack on a few extra laps on the track as minor punishment.  Normally no big deal.  But when you’re fighting off puking your guts out?) 
Toge makes a mental note to have aspirin and a heavy meal ready first thing in the mornings so she could get it all out of her system as quickly as possible.  One measly water bottle tonight just wouldn’t cut it.
When her head hits his shoulder in a soft thump, he looks down at her, checking to see if she’s finally fallen asleep.  To his surprise, she tilts her head back in order to meet his gaze.  Pink dusts over her cheeks and the corners of her mouth tilt upwards, no doubt a reaction from the alcohol in her system and their close proximity.
“You think I could get out of training with a sick day tomorrow?” She murmurs, earning a wince from Toge.  She didn’t need words to understand what that meant.  “You’re right,” She sighs, briefly turning her attention back to the movie.  “Gojo’s gonna fry me” 
This time he chuckles, and she glances back at him again.
“Mustard leaf…” 
A small giggle escapes her as well, her eyes crinkling despite knowing the fate she would face come tomorrow.
“Maybe I’ll just fess up straight away,” She thinks aloud.  “If I cry a bit, he might take pity on me, I dunno,” 
Toge struggles to hold eye contact with her, not because the movie was just so enticing he could barely pay attention to her, but quite the opposite.  With her cuddled up against his side and whispering so softly right into his ear he could hardly focus on anything other than her.  To his knowledge, the rest of the world was completely wiped away.  It was an ability she’d somehow mastered unknowingly, making him forget that there was anything else going on around them when the two of them were together.
His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she must notice, with how close she is, she could probably feel it, but if she does, she doesn’t say a thing.
“Or you could tell him I died,” She adds suddenly, and Toge snorts out a laugh, making her giggle again.  
His eyes finally hold contact with hers for longer than a passing second, and she seems to melt further against him.  She doesn’t feel heavy against his shoulder, but she might as well be an anchor keeping him trapped in place.  
Yeah, there’s not a chance he’ll only be here for a little bit.
“You’d cover for me, right?” She asks, and it’s only meant to be a tease, but Toge raises his free arm that wasn’t being leaned on by hers, and crosses his finger over his heart.  “Wow,” (y/n) gushes in her surprise, eyebrows raised and lips curling into a wider smile.  She’s so beautiful to him at this moment that he now hopes he’ll be the one to pass out before he does something stupid.  “Cross your heart and hope to die, huh?” She muses.  “That’s pretty serious” 
He scoffs again, barely rolling his eyes, but his attention is drawn back to her again when she shifts around to lay on her side.  She’s still very much cuddled up to him, and he can tell she makes an effort to stay that way as she gets comfortable in a new position.  She even hooks her ankle over his, a silent ask for him to stay longer.  Her cheek leans back into his shoulder soon enough, and he knows he should be leaving when she starts to bat her eyelashes, but even as a Grade Two sorcerer he doesn’t have the strength to do so.
“Can I ask you a real question?” 
Everyone’s least favorite question of all time.
Toge affirms with a nod of his head, barely managing a smile to assure her.
“Does it get old?” Her voice grows even softer.  “Listening to me talk all the time?” 
He shakes his head just as quickly, the smile disappearing as a knot forms between his pinched brows.  She gives him a wobbly smile, feeling a bit endeared by how quickly he tried to tell her otherwise.
“Really?” She asks, still a bit unsure.  “Sometimes I try to shut my mouth, I… I don’t want to make you feel like you’re stuck listening to me all the time, but, uh, I can’t help it sometimes.  I… really like talking to you” She’s rambling before she knows it- and then blushing at the irony of it all.
His smile returned then, stretching wide until his teeth were showing, and he was laughing quietly at her.  Not to be malicious, of course, he was simply amused and absolutely lovestruck by the sweet admission.  Toge reached out, affectionately touching the pad of his thumb to her chin, before he shifted around to get his phone out of his pocket.
This didn’t call for rice ball ingredients, or small gestures to convey what he was thinking.  He’d need to communicate properly to her with how much he’d have to say.
(y/n) watched on as he opened his notes app and began to type.
it could never get old.  i like listening to you talk :)
It makes her heart stutter in her chest, but she can’t help the giggle that escapes her when he adds a little emoji, too.  Toge spaces down to a new line before typing more.
does it get old that i can’t talk with you the same way? 
He watches as her eyes scan over the screen quickly, before she turns to him and shakes her head.
“Of course not,” She tells him right away.  “I- I think we understand each other just fine… don’t we?” 
It dawns on her that they’ve never really talked about this before.  Even when they first met, it was like she was told he had cursed speech and she took it upon herself to learn how he communicated as quickly as possible.  Perhaps all that time she spent around him those first few months after her enrollment were what led to their closeness now.  Saying she was headstrong in being able to understand him would have been an understatement.  She had constantly been picking up on the subtleties between his rice ball ingredients, or paying attention to every hand movement or direction of his gaze to know what he was talking about.  
And it was a very, very rare case when she couldn’t understand him.  Toge could hardly recall a time it had happened.
He sets his phone down on his lap, nodding his head back at her as his eyes shifted between hers.  Her lashes hung heavy, eyelids almost falling shut with every blink, but she wasn’t giving into sleep just yet.
She mirrors his nod with a short one of her own, her eyes filled with an emotion he can’t say he’s ever seen in her before.  He studies it curiously, forgetting any sense of embarrassment from staring at her so blatantly… but then again, she wasn’t exactly shying away either.  Was it the alcohol?
“Toge,” His name falls from her lips in a mere breath, so small her mouth hardly moves, so quiet it almost doesn’t grace his ears.  “I… I hope you know you can tell me anything… anytime��” 
It’s such a sweet admission that he can’t help but reach out to her again, his thumb touching her chin in the way he usually does when he’s teasing her, but now it feels… different.  His touch lingers, and the look in his eyes feels heavier than she’s used to.  She’s flustering suddenly, her heartbeat picking up in pace, her face feeling even hotter the longer she holds his stare.  After another prolonged minute of his touch to her face, she finds herself reaching up for his hand, cupping the back of it and holding it there for just a few moments longer.
And then comes a delicate, carefully worded whisper on his part.
“I know” 
He pauses for a few seconds after he says it, just to be sure there were no lasting effects left on her.  Just as he expected, those words didn’t seem to hold any cursed energy, and she didn’t seem paralyzed or compelled in the slightest.  She simply smiles back at him, her eyelashes batting a few more times.
“Okay, good,” She murmurs, before tucking herself closer to him, nuzzling her head into his chest to get comfortable.  
She’s long forgotten the movie that was playing, and honestly, so had he.  Toge knows now it’s only a matter of minutes before she’s finally knocked out.  With a yawn, she finally drops her hand from his, but Toge opts to leave it in it’s place, carefully cradled under her jaw, his thumb swiping over her cheekbone in slow and lazy movements.
“Just stay the night, ‘kay?” She mumbles into his shirt, throwing her free arm over his waist.  “If someone notices, I’ll take the blame,” She says, and then quickly adds, “But no one will” 
His chest vibrates beneath her when he chuckles, and she merely smiled to herself as sleep finally overcomes her.
Toge hesitates on moving to turn off the tv.  Any one wrong move and he’d risk waking her, and he certainly didn’t want to do that.  So with drawn out movements, he carefully gets the tv turned off, and places the remote on the nightstand.
(y/n) doesn’t wake up, to his luck, she doesn’t even stir.  She’s sound asleep, dead weight like a rock on top of him.  But a welcome rock she was.
He didn’t even mind having to sleep in a half seated position, or the fact that the arm she’s laying on is starting to prickle with pins and needles.  None of it matters when he can faintly feel her heart beating against his chest, right beside his.
Toge only got a hair of sleep that night, but even during the rough training session the following morning, all he could think about was how soft her hair felt when he’d run his hand through it.
If what came after falling in love was a crash landing, he was definitely nearing the ground.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
When he first comes to, all Toge can barely make out is the dim light above him.  His mind is hazy, a swarm of disconnected thoughts like ‘where am I?’ and ‘why are the lights so dim in Shoko’s infirmary?’.  Nothing really makes sense until the haze begins to clear.
The next sense to come back was his hearing, and he wished it had taken a little longer because it wasn’t pleasant.
At first it’s just a sharp ringing, distant at first, like someone blowing a whistle far away from here.  But it didn’t take long for it to grow nearer and nearer, until eventually it was right in front of him, breaking through to let him take in the other sounds around him.
Whimpering.  Soft weeping, maybe.  Quiet, like the owner of the quiet cries, was trying not to wake him.
Then it was sniffling, also quiet and contained.  So faint he could just barely make it out, but paired with the cries, it wasn’t hard to understand what was going on.
He has to squeeze his eyes shut after the short exposure to the yellow light, but soon enough he’s forcing them open again.  This time he’s greeted with the blurry silhouette of the crier.
“(y/n)-” 
It’s no surprise his throat is so dry and raw that he feels blood pool on his tongue as soon as he rasps out her name, but it was enough to capture her attention, so he tries to ignore the pain for now.
A hushed “Ohmygod” is whispered under her breath so fast her lips barely move, before she’s a blurry mess of movements above him.  His eyes can’t track everything, but he thinks her hands are shaking around his face from the tapping over her fingertips on his cheeks.  “You’re- you’re awake?” She mumbles out, a hint of a whimper still trembling in her voice.
Just as he parts his lips to give her an affirmative response, her eyes widen, and her fingertips press further into his cheeks until he can feel the full length of her fingers against his skin.  They’re still shaking, but her touch is warm.
“Wait, don’t say anything, I’m sure your throat’s a mess right now,” Even when she’s not sniffling over her words, they’re watery, just a little bit stuck in her throat.  “But you’re- you’re awake,” She repeats, a smile briefly stretching on her lips, before it quickly falls back into that wobbly frown.  His vision begins to focus when he settles it there, hoping it’ll disappear into another smile again.
Why was she such a wreck? She’d never cried over him before, and he’s been injured plenty of times, Toge couldn’t wrap his mind around it.  It was making it harder to fight past the hazy state of waking up.  
There were small, wet splashes against his face that startled him enough to change his focus, eyes suddenly moving his line of sight upwards, finding her eyes were in fact full of tears, and most of them were streaming down her face.  He can’t say or do much, but concern is evident on his face.
“Are you in pain? Does anything hurt?” She wipes uselessly at the tears on her face when she speaks.  The dry patches were just as quickly replaced by more streaks of tears.
Toge shakes his head, although it’s not a complete truth.  His head is still spinning, the metallic taste of blood was burning the scratches in his throat, but most peculiar was the dull ache of his left arm.  It wasn’t a sharp pain, or even enough to bring a tear to his eye, and yet the throbbing of it captured all of his attention.  He couldn’t not think about it.  Was it broken? Why hadn’t Shoko healed it? It never feels like this after her Reverse Cursed Technique…
“Okay,” (y/n) whimpers, sniffling before she speaks again.  “Okay, that- that’s good, that’s good…” Her voice grows quiet, and Toge’s shaking his head at her again, trying to voice his confusion with this whole ordeal, trying to ask her what was wrong.
All he can do is twitch his right hand until she notices, and as soon as she turns her head, she picks his hand up in both of hers.  She’s swift but gentle, cradling it as if his bones would shatter from a movement too rough.  He tries to curl his fingers around hers, but it takes too much effort, so he goes to bring his other hand around hers as well.
A strained gasp escapes him when he lifts his left arm, his eyes shooting open from the pain and difficulty of the action, neck swiveling to see what was so wrong that he couldn’t do something so simple as to hold her hand and comfort her.
They’re both frozen when he finally looks at his left arm.  Or, lack thereof.
(y/n’s) crying seems to cease completely as she holds her breath, and Toge’s chest is moving rapidly, but his inhales and exhales are nearly silent.
When he looks up at her again, she brings a hand to her mouth, stifling the sob that shakes her entire body as she begins to cry again, just as hard as she had when she’d found him.
“I’m- I’m sorry,” Is what she says first, it’s all that really comes to mind at first, she doesn’t know where to begin, how she’s supposed to explain it to him, what the gentle way of proceeding was.
She almost wished someone was here now, but there wasn’t.  There was no one.  Everyone was either missing, or had died in the aftermath, there was only the two of them.  The world had shrunk down to leave just the two of them it seemed- and they weren’t allowed their peace.
“Shibuya- it’s- when I found you-” She tries, she really does, but so many words flood her mind at once that they get lodged in her throat, and she’s never really learned how to navigate this sort of thing before.  This was always Gojo’s job, or Nanami’s…
With a deep breath, (y/n) straightens her posture as she’s kneeled beside Toge on the ground, and she gives his hand a small squeeze.
“Without a Reversed Curse Technique, I did the best that I could,” She says, a little bit more clearly, but not without a few hiccups.  “The runes on the wrappings should keep it from getting infected, at the very least,” 
Toge looks back at his left side again, taking in a long, good look at the missing space where the rest of his arm used to be.  Then his gaze shifts upwards, where what’s left of his bicep is wrapped in perfect bindings.  It appears every inch of the gauze is covered in neatly drawn runes.
How long had this taken her? How long had he been out? 
“It’s been a couple of days,” She sighs, pushing a hand through her hair and slouching again.  “It’s not… great, as you can see,” She adds, gesturing around them.
It’s only then that Toge’s really taken in their surroundings.  They’re in a tent, that’s just big enough for the two of them.  The shitty light his eyes had adjusted to was just a lantern tied around the center post.
“But it’s worked for now… I’ve been out a few times, there’s water, um, some food…” She trails off as she’s glancing around, already losing pace and barely keeping up with what she’s saying.  What was she supposed to say? “I… I haven’t crossed paths with anyone else yet” 
Toge’s hand twitches in hers, fingers flexing for a moment before he pulls it out of her hold.  It’s slow and shaky when he brings his hand to her face, but he is able to make the reach.  She leans closer to him so he wouldn’t have to stretch too much.  Toge presses the entirety of his palm into her cheek, fingertips prodding at her hairline, thumb tracing against her cheekbone.
That wobbly smile returns when she presses her palm against the back of his hand.  She’s still crying, but it seems a little more under control.  He wonders if she’s even aware of the never ending tears, or if she’s grown used to it.
“Thank you” 
A watery scoff of a laugh escapes her, and then she shakes her head at him.
“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” She mumbles, and his thumb begins to drag lower, across the hollow of her cheek, coming to the corner of her mouth.
He nods his head to make his argument, a furrow in his brows that tells her he’s serious, but she doesn’t seem to take him as such.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” She sniffles.  “There’s barely any food, I’ve been in this ruined uniform for days, all of our friends are missing and the strongest sorcerer in the world is in the prison realm, you’re hurt, and it very well may be the end of the world-” 
He has to drop his hand from her face in order to have the strength to push himself into a sitting position, but once he does he’s just as quick to bring it back.
She’s crying too much to keep adding to her list of everything that’s gone wrong in the last few days, but this time Toge tries to wipe the tears away as he shushes her softly.  It takes a few minutes, but eventually the tears come to a stop, and Toge drops his hand again.
This time he makes a gesture to her.  It’s drawn out, despite it being a simple one.  He points his finger out, touching it to her collarbone, then his eyes meet hers again, and they’re tearing up again.  He frowns.  Then taps her shirt a few more times, trying to make his point clearer.
You’re still here.
He can only hope that more taps will make sense to her.
The corner of (y/n’s) lips tilt upwards, and he thinks with the amount of emotions flickering behind her eyes, that understanding is amongst them.
“I’m glad you’re here… with me,” She mumbles out.  “I don’t know what I would’ve done….” The thought trails off with her words, and she turns her head away, chewing on the inside of her cheek.  The exhale she lets out instead is slow, and shaky.
Toge lifts his hand to turn her chin back towards him, a frown on his face as his eyes meet hers.
Again, he points at her, but this time he presses the pad of his finger square against her chin, and then turns it towards himself, mirroring the touch to his own chin.  A crease forms between her brows, and he repeats it- tapping her chin twice with a featherlight touch, and then his own.
We’re both still here.
Weakly, another smile graced her lips.  She understood.
“Whatever is next, we take on together… yeah?” She asks him, her voice hushed, a certain anxiety filling her chest with a crawling feeling, but Toge’s response couldn’t have eased it away faster.
He nods, leaning in closer, bringing his hand back to her cheek so he could tilt her head downward just the slightest, enough for him to brush his lips over her forehead in a light kiss.  So light if she wasn’t staring at him with wide eyes, she might’ve missed it altogether.
Like a deer caught in headlights, she holds her stare even once Toge’s pulled away.  Her parted lips holding no definitive emotion, he’s not exactly sure what she’s thinking when she stares at him like that, but he doesn’t feel any regret from the action.  They were all they had now, and there might not be any amount of comfort to delude them into thinking things were going to turn out perfectly fine, but they could certainly try.  Perhaps they could go just a few minutes at a time feeling some relief.
They weren’t alone.  And despite it all, they were alive.  At this moment anyways, Toge couldn’t ask for more.
With the backs of her hands, (y/n) roughly wipes away the lingering tears on her face, before she reaches out to him.  Just as her hands cradle around his face, he’s meeting her halfway, eyes shut before their lips even touch.
As hasty as it is, it’s a tender kiss.  Neither one of them wanted to move too fast at the risk of bumping an injury, but the years of pent up emotions came pouring out of it nonetheless.  Her calloused and bruised hands somehow feel silky smooth when they glide over his jaw.  Any fears or pains melt away under the gift of her soft kiss.  Toge could almost forget all of it, just for that moment.
When she pulls away, quietly panting to catch her breath after holding it the entirety of the kiss, the unreadable look on her face fades away into something else.  Bittersweet relief.
Her eyes shift between his, finding the same emotion in them that she’s currently feeling.  Affectionately, her thumbs trace over the markings on either side of his mouth.  There’s a moment of silence between them as they bask in the first pleasant moment they’d had in a while.  It’s no surprise that it’s only come when they’re together.
“We’ll find the others,” (y/n) murmurs assuredly after a minute.  “We’ll figure it out,” And as she says it, she starts to believe it, slowly but surely she pulls herself out of her cynicism, hope and certainty replacing it when she looks at him.  “Together” 
His own hand slides across her cheek and wraps comfortably at the nape of her neck, holding her delicately but closely.  Toge nods, smiling back at her with as much conviction as he could.
“Together” 
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
[ it’s a cruel, cruel world, but we don’t care // cause what we’ve got, we’ve got to share ]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
xoxo ~ jordie a/n: for anyone who got the little miss sunshine edit mwah mwah mwah bc it's a comfort movie of mine &lt;3
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absolutebl · 4 months
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Best & Worst BLs of 2023
My Top 15 BLs of 2023 are (in order)
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1 Our Dating Sim
Korea Viki
Nerds in love, deadlines, gaming, teasing, pining tiny idiots, casual affection, linguistic oops, ADORABLE. If you haven't watched this, it's a must. A perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy.
I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent.
Also recieves my 2023 award for best giggle.
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2 I Cannot Reach You
AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai
Japan Netflix
This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen.
Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way.
This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.
Also wins the best thirst award.
These were the 2 BLs that got 10/10 from me in 2023. The rest of these got 9/10 from me.
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3 My School President
Thailand YouTube
GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.
Received the Namgoong award for best wingman 2023.
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4 I Feel You Linger in the Air
Thailand grey
IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework. Steeped in history and family drama this is an elegant and classy BL. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. It's a marker of how great it was that it's so high on my list despite the ending which was very much not what I wanted.
Additional accolade, sexiest moment of 2023 - (the oil scene).
You could try to fight me, but you'll have no grip.
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5 Kiseki: Dear to Me
Taiwan Gaga & Viki
The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs (everyone is queer), and a KILLER side couple. It involves all the tropes under a very offhand framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan.
Best side couple 2023!
(thank goodness Taiwan made this list!)
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6 Jun and Jun
Korea Viki
A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. With a snappy (sometimes even raunchy) script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and descent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching.
Best flirting 2023.
AKA "the tongue knows" award
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7 The Eighth Sense
Korea Viki
This one is a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it has a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.
2023's most likely to appeal to non-BL watchers.
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8 Unintentional Love Story
Korea iQIYI
The lead, Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT, who carried this show. He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, which he used to carry a killer plot and challenging role. Forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the eyes EMOTING at us in PAIN. Driven by external conflict, social tension and pressure this story seems simple but it's actually refined and quite complex. I loved this show.
Best story structure 2023.
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9 My Personal Weatherman
AKA Taikan Yoho
Japan Gaga
This is classic yaoi of the kind that really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's high heat is well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" which is exacerbated by the fact that they're already fucking. Sure is sexy tho.
Best use of props 2023 for the shower of sheets.
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10 Our Dining Table
AKA Bokura no Shokutaku
Japan Gaga
Lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. It's lovely & sweet with the romance beats used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy. Special.
First prize for domesticity.
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11 Laws of Attraction
Thailand iQIYI
This is a great gay suspense thriller with several solid couples, fun plot, killer characters, queer rep, and a happy ending. It’s tons of fun and I had an absolute blast watching it.
Charn wins my favorite character of 2023.
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12 La Pluie
Thailand Viki
This BL takes to task the fated mates trope and what it means to have love chained intimately to predestination. It’s about how faith in destiny before choice diminishes the authenticity of emotion, relationships, and connection. This is a high concept to examine through the lens of a BL. With good chemistry and decent acting all around, plus some excellent high heat and representation of consent and a few other rare tropes, this one has to (like it’s sibling show My Ride) earn high marks.
Most interesting concept 2023.
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13 The New Employee
Korea Viki
So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever!
Best overall queer rep from Korea.
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14 Step By Step
Thailand Gaga & YouTube & Viki
This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This was an office romance between stern boss and sweet subordinate that felt more authentic to an office environment than previous Thai BLs of this ilk which added tension to the narrative and character development.
Chot wins best queer character 2023.
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15 Love Tractor
Korea iQIYI
Most of this country-set BL had me feral for the beautiful broken city boy and his hot young farmer. Hyung romance, puppy/cat pairing, open frankness meets jaded reserve, language play, water hose frolicking, only one bed = all my favorite silly tropes.
Biggest "he so pretty" gasp of the year award.
10 Worst BLs of 2023 (that I watched)
My Blessing
My Universe: Casanova Begins
Boyband the series
Cafe In Love
Chains of Heart
Hit Bite Love
Only Friends
Senior Love Me
The Luminous Solution
The Promise
Yes, you read that right. I know I'm against the flow but I really did not like Only Friends. Everyone's taste is different.
However I DNFed faster and more BL's this year than ever before, so that means my 10 worst probably aren't quite reflective...
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10 Probably Actually Worst BLs (I dropped 'em)
My Story
The Day I Loved You
Beyond the Star
Crazy Handsome Rich
Dinosaur Love
House of Stars
Mr Cinderella 2
Love Bill
Stormy Honeymoon
The Star Always Follow You
Codicils in General
I only carefully track/watch Thailand, Taiwan, Korea, and Japan. Other countries are not fully represented.
My Numbers
So my spreadsheet chronicled 138 BLs that finish airing in 2023.
101 = watched & reviewed
2 = still in the docket (WDYEY2 & Love Syndrome III)
15 = CNF (could not find)
20 = DNF (which also accounts for how few very low scores I handed out in 2023 as opposed to previous years, I just stopped watching). Speaking of which...
Ratings spread
(# of stars. #of BLs given that rating)
0 (see the DNFs instead)
2 - IT'S DEPRESSING they killed the gay, save yourself
7 - I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM WATCHING AND NEITHER DOES IT
7 - FATALLY FLAWED but still basically BL, however… do we want to support this kind of behavior?
9 - WATCH IF YOU HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO but don’t expect much, it’s a total hot mess
17 - WORTH WATCHING BUT FLAWED probably around the ending or in narrative structure/cohesion or censorship
14 - RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS i.e. isn’t quite BL, convoluted, not strictly HEA, too short/long, or chemistry issues
30 - RECOMMENDED some concerns around tropes (like dub con) or story structure but still satisfies as BL
13 - ABSOLUTELY RECOMMENDED probably a few pacing issues or one flaw
2 - HIGHLY RECOMMENDED faithful to tropes, happy ending, good chemistry, few flaws, high rewatch potential
(source)
508 notes · View notes
mitsies · 1 year
Text
sick days ; satoru gojo
when 8-year-old megumi falls sick, you and your co-parent / maybe-boyfriend go down a rabbit hole.
gojo satoru x gn reader fluff, child-rearing, confessions, mutual pining (reader & gojo are school friends in their early 20s!)
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'regret' was a word you have exiled out of your vocabulary.
it was a part of being a new (unwilling) parent to 2 overly intelligent kids, you supposed; you couldn't regret things.
'regret' was a word that would eat away at their little kid brains and latch on to the wormholes of insecurity in their heads, stretching them out and out into big voids that would probably take over their short, sweet lives. (it was like saying you regret anything would instantly equate to you regretting taking them in, and you couldn't have that.)
generally, your journey navigating the raising of toji fushiguro's children after his death wasn't difficult save for the obvious mental health issues he'd inflicted on his young kids. (you hadn't known the extent of it until megumi pretended he wasn't crying when you forgot to pick him up from school once. it was a real eye-opener.)
but it wasn't like you needed to establish authority. megumi and tsumiki generally followed your word and looked up to you- there were no issues there.
the real root of the problems was your silver-tongued and stupid-looking accomplice, gojo satoru.
you'd never regret taking tsumiki and megumi in. you'd never regret the actions you'd allowed gojo to take against their father. the only thing in the world you really did regret was giving gojo satoru your spare house key.
"who wants cake?"
you return from picking up megumi and tsumiki from school to a kitchen that seemed like it'd been through many small explosions. the smell of smoke hung faintly in the air. gojo loomed behind the counter like a bad omen and you scooted the children behind you warily.
"satoru," you began as if you were scolding a petulant and sulking child, "what are you doing in my house again?"
yes, again. because this was the 3rd day in a row gojo had blown off his missions and all his deep, deep piles of shit at jujutsu high to deal with to come harass you.
"why do you look so upset to see me!" gojo whines as his posture drops dramatically. he feigns a sigh with a hand over his heart. in doing this, he drops the skillet (why does he have a skillet when he's making a cake?) on his toe.
instantly, a stream of firey profanities and angry curses spews from his mouth as he hops around clutching his foot. tsumiki covers megumi's ears. he can still hear everything.
"satoru," you hiss, "not in front of the fucking kids, dude."
the tall man rises back up and shrugs, nonchalantly trying to pretend he hadn't basically been rolling around crying a second before.
despite this being a regular tri-weekly occurrence at this point, you still berate gojo. and by berate him, you just curse him out. megumi and tsumiki shuffle out from behind you with their schoolbags, and gojo beckons them toward the kitchen and to him.
"you're so irresponsible, you dumbass!" gojo places a piece of sweet red velvet cake onto a paper plate for tsumiki. he nods to you sweetly, as if encouraging you to keep going.
"why are you always here, burning down my house, when you have mountains of paperwork to do back at the school? you are a grown-ass man child." another slice is served to megumi.
"you need to get out. now." megumi and tsumiki scurry off to their rooms. gojo has emerged from the kitchen now, and he's nodding encouragingly. he's got an apron on and his sunglasses are shoved in his hair and he looks so strangely domestic that you don't bat an eye at first when he comes behind you and massages your shoulders.
"let it out," he says, and you sigh because his hands really do work through the knots in your back, and jesus christ, is there anything he's not good at?
hold on. just what is he doing?
you flip your hand back, effectively smacking him in the face as you storm into your kitchen and start angry-cleaning. you'd like to curse him out some more but you're so embarrassed and flushed and you know gojo well enough to be certain that he'd notice if you spoke.
"let me help you clean." you don't protest as he starts picking up his own mess alongside you, and there it is again: that familiar premonition, that tick in your chest, and that honey-sweet scent you've grown to call in your mind the 'gojo-sense' because it was a sensation you've only observed around him before.
you've known gojo satoru since day 1 of your schooling at jujutsu technical college, and you've known him every day since then, much to your discretion. unfortunately for you, he was one of your closest friends- so close, in fact, that he'd so kindly offered megumi and tsumiki to you after he found (kidnapped???) them post-toji's death.
(you're pretty sure megumi and tsumiki hadn't been kidnapped. you've grown close to them in the year-ish you've been raising them and you think they'd tell you if they were. you think.)
in all your years of knowing gojo, you could count the times you've felt like you truly understood him on one hand. the count lies at 2.
the first time dates back to his very first time trying alcohol. it was almost the end of your 3rd year, and shoko had snagged a bottle to share with your little group.
you remember gojo being pensive about trying it, and trying to bluff his way out. and you remember the confession that followed, that he'd never tried it before. shoko and geto laughed. you don't remember if you did, too, but you remember gojo looking at you hesitantly before he took his first shot.
and then he almost threw up.
again, your other friends laughed and teased, but you were too caught by the question of 'why did he look at you' to bother.
it didn't help that, during this time, you had a major crush on him. it was gone now, though, you swear.
the second time you think you understood gojo satoru was the night of riko amanai's death. it had happened so fast. you remembered his smile and then you remembered his tears as he cried for the first time in front of you. you remember holding him, your best friend, and then you remember not being able to as infinity filtered between your fingers and blocked you from his skin.
that was the night that gojo satoru vowed to never let anyone through his walls again. you would not be an exception. but unfortunately for him, you were already in his secret garden.
so despite you thinking that gojo had closed you out of his inner world forever, he had a place for you all along. you just didn't know.
the two of you remained heavily ingrained in each other's worlds, despite this rift. you were a package deal, and more often than not gojo could only be found when you were nearby, much to your irritation- and much like right now.
"you still need to get out of my house," you grumbled, but with less drive. this is how it goes every day- gojo appears. you try to get him to leave. he does not. you give up. repeat.
"you gave me your key," he reminds, and you're not looking at him but you can hear his smile. "and i could get in without it, anyways. you can't really do much."
"thanks for informing me about how you're a master burglar. i should report you to the cops."
"as if i couldn't take the police," gojo scoffs. you almost smile.
"regardless of whether you could take the police or not," you say, waving a crusty whisk in his face, "you couldn't take me. so you'd better leave."
(you probably couldn't take gojo in a fight. not that he would ever hurt you but there is no competing with the strongest. but he always listens to you, just like he does at this moment.)
"okay, okay, fine," he relents. he finishes helping you clean and is gone in a blink with his stupid little teleportation ability, and you know you're the one who wanted him to leave but you can't help but feel a little empty now that he's gone.
you know he'll be back soon enough, though. and you're proven right because your phone buzzes with gojo's special ringtone and he's already informing you that he'll be home for dinner and to not finish the cake. this prompts you to glance over to the kitchen counter, where said cake was not there.
you blink, before concluding a ghost probably got it. weirder things have happened in your household. you do feel a little sympathy for the ghost's stomach, though- that amount of sugar would be enough to kill them again.
you shrug your shoulders before carrying on with your life, sitting on the living room couch with your laptop to type out a report about some bullshit you don't care about and how it'll affect sorcerers and whatnot.
it's not until you call megumi and tsumiki out of their rooms for dinner do you realize that it was, in fact, not a ghost that had eaten the cake.
tsumiki arrives at the dinner table first, ever-so-polite, helping you set up 4 places (the extra in case gojo made good of his word and dropped by to eat.)
megumi doesn't arrive until a few minutes later, just as you were about to go collect him from his room. he stumbles out of his door like he'd just fought 7 wars consecutively, his face paler than death and his 4-foot self shaking like a leaf in the wind.
he almost slams into you, with the way he staggers through the hallway to the kitchen. he doesn't meet your eyes as he apologizes profusely, flopping onto a chair like a fish.
almost instantly, the poor boy passes out face-first on the table. you and tsumiki exchange a worried look as you press the back of your hand to his forehead, only to feel that megumi was burning up.
"surprise! did you miss me?"
you shoot gojo a glare as he materializes in the kitchen a few feet away. at his loud and rather irritating voice, megumi usually would've woken, being a light sleeper- but the 8-year-old was still knocked out with his face on his plate like it was a pillow.
"satoru, no offense, but could you keep it down?" tsumiki, ever-the-saint and ever-so-helpful, inquired politely. "megumi's sleeping."
at this, gojo furrows his brow, turning his head to the sleeping child.
"oh."
you can almost see the cogs turning behind gojo's thick skull before he asks: "what's wrong with him?"
you blink at him. "connect the dots, dumbass."
tsumiki laughs awkwardly, quickly grabbing her plate of food before speedwalking away to her bedroom, calling out a quick, "i'll be in my room if you need anything!"
you sigh, unable to blame the poor girl. if you had a choice, you wouldn't want to deal with gojo either.
gojo turns back to you with raised brows. "our family is falling apart. our daughter is running away, and our son is dying."
"that wasn't funny in the slightest."
"i think it was."
you exhale, a half-smile forming on your face. "okay then, mr. comedian, could you help get megumi to his bed?"
gojo doesn't need more prompting. he's already carrying megumi like he weighs less than a feather, with a gentleness you often forget he has. you're even more surprised when you see that gojo's hand actually touching the fabric of the boy's clothes- his infinity is off.
you don't mention it, even though you're sure that gojo knows that you've noticed. you try to ignore the way your heart thunders as you watch from the kitchen as gojo carries megumi to his room, observing from afar as he tucks the boy into his sheets carefully and ruffles his hair. you try not to smile like a fool but you think you do a poor job of hiding it.
when gojo returns to the joint kitchen and living room of your apartment, he pulls himself onto the counter next to you to sit, ignoring the various seats at his disposal.
"well, he's sick."
you snort. "yeah, no kidding."
you're still watching megumi's bedroom door but you can feel gojo's gaze land on you, as it often does. "he'll be okay. don't worry about it too much."
a certain softness warms your heart and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. "yeah. you're right. it's no big deal, he'll be fine."
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megumi was not, in fact, fine.
at 6 in the morning, you feel a soft, incessant tapping on your arm. you stir groggily, only to hear a familiar child's voice- megumi's voice.
you sit up, rubbing your eyes as your vision adjusted. you realize you weren't in your bedroom- you were on the living room couch. and gojo satoru was curled up close behind you.
you'll deal with that later, though, because megumi looks like he's on the verge of tears. wordlessly, instantly, you put a hand on his back and kneel down to his eye level. you can see tears welling up in his eyes and concern burns your lungs.
"is everything okay?" your whisper is met by sniffles and you pull the boy into a hug, which he allows, burying his face in your sweatshirt sleeve.
"i'm sorry. i threw up and i don't feel good. sorry."
you might cry too, as you hold him close and rub his back.
"it's okay, don't apologize. i've got you."
at some point, megumi falls back asleep. you hold his sleeping form on your hip as you shake gojo awake. he grumbles and groans until you smack his arm and he stirs.
"what? is everything okay?"
you're almost impressed with how gojo instantly scopes out the situation- from the sleeping, sickly child at your side to your tired, worried expression.
"i have no idea what to do."
you're whispering but you don't have to be, as your guilty confession tumbles out. you're hardly 20 and your child who you got roped into raising is sick. you could hardly function properly yourself, and then you became a parent-ish, and then your kid got sick. to say you were stressed was an understatement.
gojo blinks. you think he understands the weight of your words because he stands swiftly, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.
"i'm not sure either," he whispers back, "but we can figure it out."
the two of you devise a plan, consisting of googled remedies from mom blogs and random doctor's offices, and gojo's childhood experiences with getting sick.
while he cleaned megumi's room (a task you'd assigned him, seeing as you were already holding megumi and didn't want to wake him, and not because you just really didn't want to), you shuffled through your kitchen to riffle through cabinets and drawers, in search of flu medications, cough drops, or anything that might help.
ultimately, all you came up with were bandages, gauze, and iodine- the lifeblood of a jujutsu sorcerer. you sigh, fighting the urge to slam your head into the wall.
gojo shows up next to you, running a hand through his hair. you'd be flustered if you weren't so irate.
"nothing?"
"nope."
gojo sighs and you're reminded for a second about how scary this must be for him, too. he's only your age, and just as powerless as you. helplessness is not a feeling he must encounter often, so it must be particularly awful when it happens.
you almost feel bad for him, but then a playful grin cracks his face, and he pulls out jingling car keys from his sweatpant pockets.
you narrow your eyes. "oh, no. you are not driving anywhere, not at this time of day. it's still dark out."
gojo clicks his tongue and starts walking to the door. "i'm not driving. we are. think of it as... a road trip! i think i have some medication at my place."
you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "just.. teleport us there, or something? i'd rather die than drive with you again."
"i told you! i'm a good driver! i was just messing with you!"
"you crashed your car into a tree, satoru."
you startle yourself with your use of his first name, but you don't think he notices because he bounces right back.
"it was funny!"
you shake your head. "not happening."
"i can't teleport us."
"why not?"
gojo looks a little guilty at this. you soften. "i don't really trust myself with my abilities anymore. i don't know. it's kind of stupid."
"no, it's not stupid. i mean, i trust you," you try hesitantly, "but if you don't, we can drive."
you put aside your fears of gojo behind the wheel and you're glad you do because he looks at you in a way that makes you feel like the only person alive. "i'm a good driver. swear."
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gojo is, to your surprise, not a horrible chauffeur. unlike the first time and last he drove you somewhere, there are no crashes or screaming or anything of the sort.
the streets are quiet with only the occasional car buzzing past. you don't think you've been to gojo's apartment. yours has been the go-to spot for whenever he or shoko would want company.
it's almost a calm ride, with gojo steering wordlessly and megumi snoring softly in the backseat. you're honestly impressed he hasn't woken up yet. you thrum your fingers against the dashboard, pulling one leg underneath you as you sat.
"we're here," gojo states. you glance at him drowsily from the corner of your eye, watching him leave the car and head to the backseat to retrieve megumi. your follow suit and leave the car, gazing up at the towering, swanky apartment building before you.
"this is so above my pay grade," you breathe, "are you sure they'll allow us commoners in here, my liege?"
gojo laughs softly, "no. you might have to wait out on the curb."
the building's lobby is a boring beige, with glass chandeliers providing a dim white light. it feels plasticky and stuffy and you're a little afraid to touch the elevator's buttons because you don't want to break them.
gojo's apartment is no better. the decor is minimalistic, and it hardly looks lived in. the only signs of life are the coffee mugs in the sinks and the jars of candies on top of the fridge.
his apartment might be big and high-end, but it feels so devoid of life, and you suddenly realize why gojo spends most of his time at your place.
it might be small and cluttered but it's warm, and cozy, and lived-in, and god knows that's what gojo needed. you can't imagine how isolated he must be in everyday life. your heart aches.
gojo sets megumi down on the couch with the gentleness of an angel, not that it was needed because in his current state, the boy could sleep through 12 nuclear explosions and then some.
wordlessly, gojo beckons you to follow him to a room situated at the end of the hallway. it's big and just as empty as the previous rooms, with only a dresser and a bed pushed into separate corners.
gojo rustles through the dresser drawers, presumably in search of medicine, but your gaze wanders to something else- the only real decor you've seen in the house.
there are two framed photographs sitting on top of his dresser. you take one in your hands, squinting to make out the image in the dark. you recognize it as yourself, laughing and looking behind the camera. geto and shoko are in the background, walking together on the pier.
you remember this day. it was the last mission of your first year at tokyo jujutsu high, and the four of you had decided to go out and get ice cream. it had begun to rain, but you hadn't cared. in the photo, your hair was clinging to your face but your smile was bright.
you remember the joy of that day more than anything. apparently, gojo did too, because he kept this photo despite it being years in the past.
the second frame contains a blurry photograph. you can't tell what it is at first, but after staring for a moment you realize: it's megumi, you, and tsumiki. megumi is younger in this somehow, despite the fact that it must have only been a few months ago. he's sprawled across your lap, and you just know that he would hate this picture.
tsumiki is sitting on the floor with you attentively, listening to you, as you show her something on your phone. she's smiling and looking at you with such reverence and admiration, and you feel a strange sort of pride.
you put the photo down and feel gojo staring at you. you turn to him, and he holds up a blue bottle- ibuprofen. "i get headaches."
you blink at him. "i like these pictures."
he smiles awkwardly. "yeah, me too."
and maybe it's the fact that it's encroaching on 7 in the morning, and you're delusional from the stress, and maybe this is a bad decision but you turn back to the pictures and smile and say, "i used to have a huge crush on you back in school. like, around when this picture was taken."
gojo doesn't react, staring at your hand as you point to the photo taken in high school. it's silent for a few moments before he speaks. "that's funny, y'know, because i liked you in this one."
you blink as he gestures to the recent photo. you laugh.
"you're so lame. how do you manage to always have the stupidest pick-up lines?"
you wait for gojo to laugh with you, but he keeps looking at you, and you cease your laughter.
"satoru? is everything okay?"
he takes a minuscule step closer and suddenly you're hyperaware of everything- your heartbeat, his face, your skin, you can feel it all.
"i wasn't joking," he says.
"oh."
you feel your heart thunder in your throat. gojo's eyes stare into yours and you look back into his and you have never been more lost for words than you are right now.
gojo takes your silence as a cue to continue.
"i liked you then, and that hasn't changed. you've been with me through basically everything. i don't know how to say this," he fumbles over his words now and you're reminded that you were only a teenager a few years ago, "but you make me feel less alone than i ever have."
if you were to speak at this moment, you wouldn't be sure what would come out of your mouth. so you place your hands on either side of gojo's face and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.
it's brief and easy, and it's over before gojo's fully processed what's happened.
but apparently, it was far, far too long because a little voice speaks from the doorway, sounding exasperated beyond his years. "can you guys figure this out later, i feel like i'm dying."
amused, you watch as gojo stumbles to the door holding the blue bottle, and watch him usher megumi over to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
you follow from a few feet away, watching as gojo tries to battle his embarrassment, and savoring it because you're certain that, come morning, he will be absolutely shameless.
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you were right. by the time you arrive back to your own apartment, with megumi again asleep in the backseat, he's already discussing pet names and marriage and boasting about how you're lucky because he's just such a good kisser.
tsumiki is near-frantic when you return, and you mentally facepalm for not remembering to shoot her a text explaining your absence. you and gojo spend a good 5 minutes consoling her after placing megumi in his room yet again.
her confusion is only halted when a bolt of realization passes through her, and she manages a smirk that you didn't think she could be capable of.
"why are you guys holding hands?"
you blink, and look down at your right hand, which was currently intertwined with gojo's. you snatch it away and roll your eyes with a dramatic huff, crossing your arms over your chest.
gojo looks shattered.
"what betrayal," he wails, slumping onto you like his bones turned to jelly. you push him off and he lands on the floor sprawled out like a starfish.
"my own partner," he huffs from the ground, "hates me. my life is so hard."
tsumiki's eyes pop out of her skull. "partner? oh my gosh, what did i miss?"
you groan and cover your face with your hands.
a 4th voice chimes in. "don't worry. it wasn't pretty."
megumi stands in the hallway, looking fine as ever, and decidedly not sick.
you blink at him. tsumiki stares. even gojo raises his head off the floor to make sure that the boy was not, in fact, a ghost.
"aren't you sick?" gojo asks.
megumi rolled his eyes. "well, i was, but i'm better now. i think that was your cake from last night. it was so nasty it made me want to die."
you look at gojo. he sits up and shrugs sheepishly.
regret was not a word you use lightly. but right now, you really, really regret letting gojo satoru into your apartment.
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author's note: dont think abt the timeline of this too much pls
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lokisgoodgirl · 6 months
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Home Truths: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]
The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (4) Loki is given a shake, and the four of you hit up the local supermarket. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki. Major Satchelage. Humour. Brotherly/ Domestic fluff. Smut references. Mild angst. Pining. (w/c 4.5k) Recommended Folklore Track: Hoax
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The rain hadn’t stopped. You’d spent the next few hours limping between rooms, keeping busy, stealing glances out the droplet-streaked windows where you could.
Where was he?
The kiss had lingered on your lips. The taste of Loki absorbing into cracks of delicate skin like water in thirsty soil. Nobody knew where the god had disappeared to in the early hours, allegedly.
What's more, they didn't seem surprised.
It had been another two hours before Loki returned holding a string of thoroughly deceased rabbits.
He stalked through the front door, turning abruptly into the kitchen and lowering them to the dining table with a macabre series of thumps.
“Holy Moses-” Steve scoffed disapprovingly, folding his arms.
The kettle began to whistle on the stove as Loki paraded to the cupboard. He pulled out a mug sporting a large yellow bear with an eyepatch.
“I saw no reason why our ‘education’ need be stifled by a mild weather-tantrum” he drawled, gesturing to the window before plucking a teabag from the tin. He glanced back to you as you leant against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes narrowed. There was no hint there of what had passed between you only hours before. It made you sad. But not surprised. “Don’t you agree, Agent?” he purred. Thor emerged by your shoulder.
“What the-?” his eyes fell on the limp pile of fur adorning the plastic tablecloth; gasping sharply. “Hodorekorn, brother?” His excitement was electric. Loki shook his head. “Alas, no brother. Rabbits. But much the same to ensnare.” The god tilted his head as he poured from the kettle, throwing Steve a wink. “See, Rogers?” he smirked. “I am not completely useless.”
Thor’s arm stretched above your head, pressing his hand against the frame. “It took you four hours to capture five hodorekorn?” He chuckled wrly. “Rusty indeed, brother.” “Rabbits.” Loki corrected, stirring his tea.
Steve swallowed, eyeing the bundle. “What are we supposed to do with ‘em?” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. “Skin them, and cook them of course!” Thor’s boom filled the tiny kitchen.
Steve gagged.
You couldn’t stop the smile that spread. Loki’s eyes met yours, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah, we can do that” you said, “good thinking Thor. Steve? How about you take the first one? Dealer’s choice.”
Steve clapped a hand to his mouth, pushing Thor into you in a hasty sprint to the bathroom. Dry wretches followed as the three remaining Avengers descended into laughter.
Tears streamed down Thor’s face while you doubled over, clinging to his forearm. Even Loki’s demure overtures of mirth rumbled across the linoleum, although you were certain that it was the sight of you and his brother that was the cause rather than the captain’s overdramatic heaves. Just like the old days, you thought with a pang. Thor wiped his face, catching his breath while there was a pause in the theatrics from the bathroom. For a moment, silence. And then... ‘Heuuuuuurgh-’
You and Thor looked at each other with simultaneous disbelief, the following whoop of laughter utterly uncontrollable. Loki took a sip of tea before placing it down, walking silently to the table. He tilted the chin of a rabbit towards him, frowning.
“We really should skin these brother,” he said sharply, “they will lose succulence otherwise.” You looked up through misty eyes, the release making you forget everything else. Loki had bristled, his mood altered somehow. Thor caught his breath beside you, panting heavily. “I- I can show you how,” you gasped as you wiped a trail from your eyes. Loki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. My brother and I are not quite as incapable as Rogers would have you believe.” Thor’s brow furrowed, shaking his head lightly in your direction. Don’t mind him, it said. “Outside or inside?” you asked, reaching for your jacket on the hall hook. It was still wet. “Outside,” Loki said with finality. His eyes flew to your hand, resting on the anorak. “Your presence is not required, Agent. My brother and I are perfectly capable, as I said.” He shot a piercing glance to Thor. The blonde swallowed.
“Uhhh...yes. Indeed, yes – brother, lead the way.” Loki breezed between you, stooping gently at the door-frame as a slick waxed Barbour unfurled over his lithe body. It hung to his thighs, the taut curve of his muscled ass shifting. The ghost of his knuckles grazed your palm as he passed. Accidentally, you were sure.
Thor lingered by the coat-hooks, shoving an arm brutishly through the sleeve of a particularly beaten-looking yellow raincoat. The material creaked menacingly as he hoisted it up his biceps.
There’s no way that is zipping closing, you thought – half watching the outline of Loki pacing towards the small hut at the edge of the cottage boundary.
Thor threw a look over his shoulder, checking Loki was out of earshot. He tugged the sides of the raincoat down. The edges lined perfectly with his nipples. Rain fell vertically outside the open door, a gush from the awning gutter pooling around the doorstep.
“He probably wishes to recount his version of what happened last night,” Thor said in hushed tones. Hushed for him, anyway. “What do you-” Thor waved a hand, eyes closed to your protestation. “Sister, please – the neighbours over yonder valley likely heard the commotion my brother’s intransigence provoked. Rogers and I heard everything.” The strap of your backpack hanging on the rack suddenly became very interesting.
“I’m not your sister, not anymore. Never was – technically” you heard yourself say, avoiding his inquiring eyes.
Pursing your lips, you scratched a nail down the strap’s weave. Thor squeaked as he shuffled closer, constrained arms wrapping around your shoulders with difficulty.
Breath heaved from your lungs as he pulled you tight. “You’ll always be my sister, sister” he smiled, resting his chin on your hair.
“If these last decades taught me anything, it is that blood relation is the least important quality.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Now, I must depart, and entertain my brother’s lukewarm justification for his boorishness.”
He turned, throwing a ridiculous pointed yellow hood up with a flourish.
“And skin some rabbits, of course” he projected loudly, throwing you a calculated wink. From behind the bathroom door, Steve wretched again.
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Loki flung the rabbits on the small bench squeezed in the corner of the hut. A ragged door hung from its hinges. If he wasn’t sure it would disintegrate, he would have slammed it. He didn’t know what to think.
Growth, he surmised, was becoming more trouble than it was worth.
He pushed his hair back from his face, the wet slick that met his hand more familiar now than he would like.
“That was rude, Loki” Thor rumbled, shaking himself like a dog in the doorway. “Hardly,” Loki snapped, casting a disparaging look in the speaker’s direction. He felt a snarl curl at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his brother spilling from the tiny yellow raincoat. “And you look ridiculous.” Loki sat abruptly on the bench, turning his attention to the rabbits. He divided them out. Three for himself, two for Thor. His brother was slower. Always had been. “It was rude,” Thor repeated, squeezing himself to the bench on the other side of the sad bundle. Loki slid a small hunting knife over in silence. Hadn’t used them in years, he realised.
Not years, Loki thought. Centuries.
Perhaps more. The shuffle of fur coming skilfully away from muscle rustled the air.
“You’ll never win her back being like that, you know” Thor murmured, drawing the knife respectfully around the rabbit’s hindquarters. Loki scoffed in spite of himself.
“Who says I wish to win her back?” he huffed, laying the first completed rabbit on a clean cloth by his side. Despite stoic intent, he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s incredulous stare.
“What?” Loki said sharply.
Thor released a theatrical shrug, rabbit swinging. “Oh I don’t know brother-” he started, laden with sarcasm.
“Something about your perpetual hangdog expression, insufferable lovelorn mooning and thwarted midnight attempts at seduction led me to believe there could perhaps be something more at play.” He tapped the half-skinned rabbit against his temple. “Not just a helmet-hold, brother” he drawled.
“It was barely ten pm,” Loki muttered petulantly, busying his hands. They continued in silence, before Thor cleared his throat. “What did you wish to speak to me about, if not that?” “It was that, you cretin. But I wish not to discuss it anymore.” “Your feelings for her?” “They have never been in question, brother. You know that.” “Yes.” “Well.” Loki snapped with finality. “Well?” “Her feelings towards me. Her concerns, the ones that broke us...she was, right.” He faltered, grateful for the pause Thor held while he gathered his thoughts. “She told me I was hurting her, and I cared not. And I know not why. At the time, her protestations seemed unreasonable.”
The confession hung around his neck like a ceremonial amulet. Heavy, powerful. “And now?” his brother probed quietly, concentrating on his work.
“Who am I, Thor?” Loki whispered, peeling the fur back from the delicate soul in his hands before stopping. “Who am I if not who I have been for centuries? Millennia?”
“People change, Loki” Thor said quietly, reaching for his brother’s hand. Loki looked up, brows peaked softly.
“But brother, we are not ‘people’. Are we?” Thor was silent. Sympathy swam in the depths of his eyes, darkened by the gloom of the cabin. Rain hit the roof. Loki was glad of it, filling the empty silence. “I’m trying,” was all Loki could muster.
“I’ve noticed,” Thor replied cautiously. “As has she, I suspect. But the palace of Asgard was not built in a day.” “She kissed me,” Loki hummed quietly, staring at the bundle in his lap. “This morning.” “Ah,” his brother hummed mysteriously.
The blonde drew his hand away from where it sat atop Loki’s. He flipped the knife, inspecting the ornate handle. “Do you remember when father gave us these?” he said thoughtfully, a smile stretching across his face. Loki frowned, gazing at his own knife. “The summer with the-” “- Haugan sisters.” They both paused, sighing simultaneously at the wall. Thor shook his head, waving nostalgia from the air. “Father said that they symbolised our transition to maturity. Protection, sustenance, a connection to our roots Loki.” Loki closed his eyes, summoning the memory. The grass was long that endless summer, a log cabin with a stone chimney that dwarfed the exterior. A cabin that had no right to be where it was – and yet, “Loki?” He opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s. In that moment, they could have been three-hundred again.
The blonde god flipped the knife back to position. “Your problem, brother, is that you spend too much time worrying about what you think you should be, rather than what you are.” “And what am I, brother?” Loki bristled, laying his second rabbit down by the side.
“Someone who’s afraid to be loved” Thor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the final tug of fur from his charge. “Ah-Ha!” he smiled, turning. “Thank you,” Loki said quietly, cradling the offering and placing it with the others.
“All she wants,” Thor murmured, his concentration fixed on the second rabbit in his lap, “is you. The real you. The one that I know. But maybe one who listens better. And not the mural version, or the lore from battle tales...” He paused, before a sly grin stretched his lips. “Well, perhaps sometimes...if you catch my drift.”
"What if he is not enough?" Loki whispered. He wasn't sure if Thor heard him.
His brother's face had become serious again. He was on a roll. “To feel that your lover sees himself as superior to you in every way? Takes any opportunity to remind one of that? To never try to adapt to a reasonable request? I can see how it can become tiresome.” He shook his head, frowning. “Mother would never have put up with that nonsense. Why should she?”
“Indeed,” Loki muttered softly. He placed his third rabbit to the side as a sigh rattled his chest. His brother was making far too much sense for his liking these days. “Fear not, brother” Thor rumbled as he leant over, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I have a cunning plan. A kiss this morning is most welcome news.” “It was a strange situation. She knew not what she did- it would not have ended well, it-”
Loki’s eyes widened in horror, realisation blossoming. “A cunning what-?” There was a knock on the hut door.
Suddenly, Loki realised that the rain had stopped. Your face popped around the corner. Loki straightened, wiping his hands on his Barbour.
“Steve and I are driving into town” you said, casting glances between the gods sitting hunched on the rotten bench. “Want to come?” Thor propped his fists beneath his chin, smiling obscenely. “Oh, please, brother!?” Loki thought about rolling his eyes, before stopping himself. He pursed his lips instead. “Certainly. Although I am surprised considering-” “We’ll be ‘undercover’, obviously” you cut with air-quotes, glancing backwards. “Apparently Steve needs something from the shops. He seems a bit flustered. The nearest one is pretty small but…” Your head disappeared again, only delicate fingers remaining curled around the door’s ragged edge. He had the sudden urge to protect them from rogue splinters. Loki frowned, noting an impish smile had worryingly taken up residence on his brother's face. “-Yes, I’ll...yes I’ll tell them.” Loki and Thor looked to each other warily, before you appeared again. “Steve says wash your hands,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “And lose the yellow slicker” you nodded to Thor.
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From the assortment of abandoned jackets hanging bushel-like in the hallway, they had managed to find one for Thor that wasn’t quite as conspicuous. The 3XL puffer jacket spread around him like a navy cloud.
Steve turned abruptly, eyeing Thor and Loki in the back of the Fiat. A hiss squeezed from the puffer every time Thor fidgeted. “Where am I supposed to put my legs?” Loki muttered scathingly. “This thing has gotten smaller since the drive here.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of magic-” he said, taking his time. “It seems that some of my personal items have gone missing.” Loki glanced at his brother, brows peaked as Steve continued. Thor’s gaze wandered out the window, following a passing bird. “We need to pick up some supplies, like bacon – that’s the cover with her,” he thumbed backwards, “since someone ate the whole week's ration.” Steve’s judgemental gaze swung towards a distracted Thor.
“But on the sly, keep your peepers open for some…” he cast a wary glance out the front windscreen, seeing you locking up the cottage. “-Unmentionables.” “Condoms?” Loki quipped factitiously. Steve flushed. “No, Laufeyson” he hissed, tone frantic as you crunched towards the car. “Rogers underwear has mysteriously vanished, brother” Thor chuckled. “One minute they were lined up in the suitcase, all thirty-six pairs. The next-” he made a whooshing gesture. “Thirty-six?” Loki mouthed incredulously. “Christ, Rogers. Did you intend on soiling yourself thrice daily?” The god twisted towards his smirking brother. “What did you do to them?” “Me? Tis not I who suspicion has fallen on, brother” Thor gasped, pressing his fingers innocently to his chest. Loki rolled his eyes, and this time – he meant it. “Well it wasn’t me.” Loki huffed, folding his arms as Steve’s stare pinballed between them. “I have better things to do. And besides, what fetid joy would I gain from such a waste of-”
You pulled the car handle with a jerk, noting all three men inside bristle and straighten in a way that could be considered nothing short of suspicious.
“Everything okay?” you murmured, settling into the driver’s seat. They nodded in silence.
Thor’s jacket hissed.
“That better not be a parp, Odinson” Steve muttered, followed by the low buzz of a lowering window. You adjusted the mirror, meeting Loki’s eyes and quickly looking away. “Okay,” you sighed to yourself. “Let’s do this.”
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The comforting Tesco Express sign glowed in mid-afternoon gloom.
It was barely three, and yet it may as well be sundown. Clouds still smothered the sky, hanging low and ominous over the town’s uneven rooftops. You pulled into a parking spot outside, thanking the powers that be it was quiet. Steve cleared his throat, digging into the breast of his raincoat. He produced four mismatched caps, jamming one low on his brow before handing out the rest. “I don’t think I need to remind you to exercise caution. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and if anyone asks – we’re just four pals from out of town here for some good ol’ fashioned cottaging.” You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t mean what you-” “May we begin this expedition so that it might end sooner?” Loki drawled. With no warning, Thor farted.
The captain’s eyes widened. “Get out...get out!” he gagged. It was the fastest evacuation of a hatchback you had ever witnessed. Thor was last, his cheeks pink. “All the bacon,” he explained sheepishly while pushing the seat forward. You took Thor’s arm, letting the puff of his jacket warm your chilled fingers. While the god’s wide eyes inspected the snack chiller inside the door, you saw a non-nonchalant Loki meander straight to the checkout followed by a jumpy Steve.
The captain hung back, picking up a packet of gingerbread men and inspecting it over a pair of sunglasses.
Loki drummed his fingers on the counter, smiling wryly as a member of staff appeared from the back. “Hi, with you in one second-” they said, holding up a finger before disappearing again. Loki murmured pleasantries, adjusting the cap holding the stuff of his hair. “What are you doing?!” Steve hissed. Loki caught a musty waft of his own waxed jacket as he turned, shooting Rogers a perishing glare.
“You’re the one that has us looking as though we intend to rob the place. Hush,” Loki hissed back. Steve snapped back to the nutritional information as the Tesco worker re-surfaced. “Sorry about that,” they said.
Loki released a dazzling forced smile. “Do you happen to have any mens undergarments in this” he raised his palms, searching for an accurate descriptor, “place?” The man on the other side of the counter frowned. “Like, underwear? No...you’d need to go to one of the bigger stores for that kind of thing.” Loki stared at him. “There’s one in Millom?” the man added nervously, making the sides of Loki’s eyes crinkle before his features softened. “I see,” he purred, tilting his head. “How unfortunate.” “Anything else I can help with?” the mortal asked. Loki sighed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels.
“One package of,” he squinted at the shelf behind the counter. “Durex Extra Safe, if you would.” The heat from Steve’s cheeks radiated the short distance from the bakery display. There was the squeak of a shoe, the telling crack of biscuit as the captain’s sensibilities floundered. Behind the counter, the man turned without a second thought, reaching up before glancing back. “Pack of three or pack of twelve?” he asked.
Loki smirked. “Pack of three or pack of twelve, darling?” he crooned to Steve, whose face had flushed an alarming shade of beetroot. He turned back to face the cashier. “Pack of twelve.” Loki winked.
You couldn’t hear what what transpiring at the check-out, but the shade of Steve’s skin gave the distinct impression it wasn’t on script. The oblivious shop worker reached up, bringing down a box and handing it to Loki who parted with a crisp twenty pound note. Where did he get cash, you thought; before realising what the box was. Are those...
“Agent, look-” Thor exclaimed beside you as he held out an oblong package. “Party Rings,” he said smugly, “If ever there was a snack made for I, tis this – surely.” You muttered a quick uh-huh, stalking down the aisle to where blustery Steve was busying himself picking up a random assortment of foodstuffs piled high in his arms. “Steve?” you said warily as you removed three packets of bacon and a tub of yoghurt. It revealed his face, still flushed and sweaty.
“Laufeyson bought...prophylactics,” Steve rasped as his eyes darted around the empty aisle.
“I saw,” you responded sympathetically while the captain shook his head. “In broad daylight too” he added, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder.
The increasingly erotic scent of waxed Barbour jacket filled your nostrils. “Got everything?” your ex quipped. Steve’s lips flapped, forming words that didn’t come. He released a goose-like hiss instead. You quickly unloaded the rest of the groceries from his hands, spilling them into Thor’s basket just as he parked himself beside you. “What’s happening?” Thor said. Crumbs from a ravaged pack of Party Rings clung to his beard. Loki continued, unperturbed.
“I’m sorry they didn’t have your unmentionables, Rogers. But nevermind – not a totally wasted trip.” He tossed the box of condoms to Steve who caught them out of instinct. “Oh, Extra Safe – excellent choice,” Thor rumbled far too loudly. “And a necessity, for my brother and I – nothing else seems to hold the force of our seed without making quite the mess-” he cast a knowing glance to you. “She knows,” he winked. Steve looked between the gods, aghast. Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his pocket, taking a casual bite. “Are you the same, Rogers?” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I imagine you must be with all that super-whatjit-serum business.” There was silence. “Oh, right” Thor laughed awkwardly. “Well, you never know...this trip might be the one.” He slapped Steve on the back, chortling.
“Stop calling me Rogers…” Rogers whispered. He looked like he was in shock, staring at the pack of twelve condoms in his hands. “Someone might…” Steve’s face paled as catastrophic images fell into place inside his head. A picture of him on the homepage of every gossip site there was, holding a box of French Letters in Tesco Express like a pervert. He stuffed them in his pocket.
“Let’s pay for this stuff and go.” he said firmly.
“Excuse me?” a voice creaked from further up the aisle. The four of you broke your huddle, battle-stances activated.
An old man shuffled closer, the tap of his walking stick echoing on the polished floor. “What should we do, Agent?” Thor muttered out the corner of his mouth. Your face softened, looking the geriatric up and down. “He’s clean, just an old dude,” you said. Steve tutted beside you. “Could be a disguise.” “A disguise?!” you hissed. “Excuse me, are you-” the old man started, before stopping in a haze of coughing. You began to step towards him, but Steve’s arm flew out to stop you. Four sets of eyes watched the man pick up pace, rubber end of his cane tap tap tapping on the floor as his crinkled gaze widened. It swept between the tall figures before him. Recognition. “Code Amber. Breach. Do something normal,” Steve whispered in panic. Without missing a beat, Thor lifted a sandwich carton from the basket and held in front of his face.
You turned, colliding with Loki’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he growled as he yanked you around the end of the aisle.
Before you could protest, he had you caged against a row of toilet paper. Matt plastic packaging cushioned the back of your head while Loki’s forearm pressed against the face of a sweet looking puppy. “This is normal... isn’t it?” Loki breathed, eyes flickering nervously from your shocked expression to where Steve was checking the expiry date on milk.
You stared up at him, fighting the urge to inhale deeply against the hollow of his neck with all your strength. Pine and smoked cedarwood and that fucking wax jacket. Loki's throat bobbed, working anxiously as the elderly gentleman bypassed the strange man holding a sandwich in front of his eyes. He was gaining on Steve. He's actually worried, you realised. “Move, Rogers” Loki grit, frowning as the intruder finally tapped an undercover captain on the shoulder. The god's eyes widened earnestly. It made you want to sink onto your knees.
The bow of Loki’s jawline was strained, veins tight and pulsing like they did when he was about to cum down your throat; his eyes pleading and needy, mouth open and- You swallowed. Letting your fingers clasp around the rough material of his open jacket, you tugged it gently. “It’s just an old man,” you whispered. Loki tilted his head, seemingly just realising the position he had manoeuvred you into. A gulp made his throat stiffen, then relax.
“Two old men,” he hummed, mirth warming his eyes. You smiled, and so did he.
Loki shuffled closer, his breath mingling with yours. He glanced towards the scene unfolding one aisle over, wetted lips hovering dangerously close to your own.
“Update,” he purred playfully, “the decrepit man has asked Rogers to get something from a high shelf. He has obliged.”
You pursed your lips with an approving nod, hoping Loki couldn’t smell the adrenaline seeping through your pores. “And my brother is still the village madman.”
A giggle escaped you, before the pad of Loki’s index finger smothered it gently. He leant close, your foreheads touching conspiratorially as silent laughter made his chest shake. His mouth creased in a soft smile, rolling the bottom lip beneath the top. “Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he murmured in a way that made your soul leave your body. You wondered if he was hardening beneath his trousers right now. He would have, before. Maybe – if last night was anything to go by. But your awkward kiss this morning flashed back with frightening clarity, the hard look in his eyes as he said the only word that ever seemed to matter. Go. Don't be an idiot, you thought bitterly. Your hands slipped from their rest on his jacket, catching briefly on his belt. Loki watched them fall.
“Me in trouble,” he corrected, face stiffening. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Thor’s face peered around the corner, a half eaten ploughman’s sandwich in his grasp. “Time to leave before Rogers goes into cardiac arrest,” he chuckled, nudging his head towards Steve loitering jerkily by the door.
“Can you pay for these?” Thor said, holding out the basket. Empty packets lay nestled amongst the survivors. “You’re the least famous.” You rolled your eyes, nodding up towards Loki. “That sounds like something he would say,” you quipped without thinking. Loki’s brow furrowed. He let the protective arm resting above your head fall without a second glance, striding the long way around towards the exit. Thor took another bite of sandwich. He shrugged, before following his brother. But he didn’t, you thought with a stab of guilt as the three of them disappeared into the street.
The glow of the Fiat’s lock lights flashed. He didn’t.
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--> Continued in Chapter Five, A Cunning Plan
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Text
| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 5)
Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 Vol 4 (Not Required) Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9
Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader
Visiting Nanami at work...
Word Count: 1.5k
CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, slightly slightly suggestive, office things
A/n: The pacing is a bit off in this, I'll do Gojo in the next volume (which will hopefully be better).
Within your last three months of marriage, it had become even more clear to you just how organized your husband Nanami was. 
The talented Jujutsu Sorcerer, and current salaryman, was always on time to wake up, go to work, and come home, never varying more than a couple of minutes. It was easy to plan things that way, knowing exactly when to greet him and have dinner ready. 
He kept to the usual schedule, drinking his morning coffee on the living room table while looking over some documents on his computer. It was a simple part of his routine, and while rather mundane, it somehow produced some much needed peace before heading to work. 
He had gotten used to the banging of pots and pans, and the subtle hums that came out of your mouth as you cooked, having finished making breakfast and packing his lunch box for the day. You carefully balanced his plate and the basket of bread in your arms, safely setting them on the table next to his coffee cup, and made the second trip to grab your own, while he packed up his things. 
Sitting down, you couldn’t help but smile watching Nanami eat the food you made. He had a long day of work to go, various meetings to attend and many papers to read. To give him the gift of a good breakfast every morning was one of the greatest joys you had, knowing that he would need it in the hours to come, along with his lunch of course. 
There wasn’t much left for Nanami to do that morning. His clothes had been picked out by you and placed neatly in a pile, his breakfast was made, also by you, and his briefcase and shoes were set by the door for when he left. Despite your husband’s usual organized manner, he seemed to have forgotten one important thing as he stepped out the door, another boring work day ahead of him. 
You had already moved on to get the morning chores done, scrubbing down the bathroom tiles and sink, and throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry. You watched out the window while wiping the dishes with soapy water, taking a deep sigh of relief knowing you were almost done. The sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly throughout the house, and while the weather was lovely, rain hadn’t fallen on your plants in quite a while. So you took a watering can and went outside, tending to the fruits and vegetables and harvesting the ripe ones. 
Time really does fly when you’re having fun, which you were, seeing the variety of colors fill the basket, a testament of your hard work and care. When you got back into the house, fully prepared to relax on the couch and read, you noticed something peculiar on the kitchen counter.
A lunch box. It was none other than your husband, Kento Nanami’s, lunch box.
The clock read 11:12, meaning less than an hour until his lunch break. Of course this was not a regular occurrence, so the thoughts that went through your head were a bit past rational. “What if he doesn’t have money with him… or doesn’t have time to go to a store?” you mumbled to yourself, pacing around the kitchen. 
There was only one thing to do, in your mind. You could just bring the lunchbox to Nanami, right? So you quickly grabbed a bag and placed the box into it, as well as your wallet, and got out the door. It was about a 20 minute walk to the station at your speed, and a 15 minute ride to get to his building. 
Stepping out of the station, you gazed widely at the imposing building that Nanami worked in. Though you had seen it before, then it wasn’t surrounded by large crowds of people walking around the city.
You dashed inside the building, the lobby filled with salarymen grabbing coffee from the shop on the first floor. To that you had to facepalm, seeing the menu had sandwiches and other savory items. Of course he would have the opportunity to get lunch, all the other workers did it.
Turning back was an option, in your dress and flats you looked quite out of place, but it was 11:55, and Nanami would be on break in 5 minutes. It would be a waste of money to buy a sandwich, when you had an even better lunchbox waiting for him. 
When the clock struck 12:00, you started to find your way throughout the massive building, to the secretary’s desk. Nanami and the rest of his department would be on break, so you could visit him in his office. 
The secretary buzzed you up to his floor, and you wandered around past the mass of people heading to the elevator. Peaking around each doorway you looked for Nanami’s blonde hair and dark gray suit, having not seem him leave. The striking figure of your husband was hard to miss. 
Nanami sat hunched over in his chair, rummaging through his things in search of something. He was the only one who hadn’t left the room yet, letting out a grunt when his hands came up empty. You silently walked over to him, happy that you were able to find him so quickly. 
“Kento, darling,” you stated meekly, smiling to greet Nanami. He looked over his shoulder in surprise, you had never been to his office before. “Y/n, what are you doing here?”  He inquired, eyeing you. It couldn’t have been easy, figuring out where everything was and making the journey here. 
He smoothed his hand over his neck, leaning to the side. “I appear to have forgotten my lunch, could that be it?” he asked, not waiting for your response. You nodded, reaching into your bag to hand him the box. “Right on time, thank you, my love,” he reciprocated your smile, the shyness knocked off your face. “While you’re always welcome to come visit me, you really don’t have to come all this way for something like this…” he started clearing the papers off his desk. “I didn’t realize you had a cafe downstairs,” you laughed, “and that the streets here are so busy during the day.” 
“Their sandwiches are fine, but I’d still rather have this - it certainly has more nutritional value,” Nanami relaxed, setting his lunchbox on the desk. “I don’t know what slipped my mind, I’m sorry you had to come deliver this, Y/n,” he stood up, adjusting his tie with his hand. 
“I should probably be getting back now, Kento,” you frowned, not having much of any reason to stay. Your own lunch was at home, and the train would only get busier. Nanami gently gripped your shoulder, leading you to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.
“It tends to settle down a little while people are eating, why don’t you stay a bit longer? Only a few minutes - I enjoy your company, afterall,” he smirked as you took in the office around you. “The view is beautiful,” you looked out the window, your hand mindlessly fiddling with your other one as you avoided his gaze, towering over you until he sat down. It was the same sky and weather that was at home, but you were with him, and that made it so much better.  
“Though it makes getting around a bit longer, this office has the best view, and is quite secluded,” he picked up his fork and took a bite of food. “For the many meetings with clients I have, it works out well as a background, and for soundproofing,” you nodded, listening intently. “My other coworkers are on this floor, and the one below it,” he mentioned, eating more. You continued your conversation a short while longer. 
“It’s already 12:20, I’ll let you leave now,” he stared at his watch, slightly annoyed that the second hand kept ticking. You stood up, feeling the lack of weight on your shoulder as your bag was nearly empty. A reminder of your purpose for being in the office in the first place.
“Do other wives visit often?” you asked, curious, as Nanami joined you. “A few, but mostly at the end of the day,” he took your hand, as the two of you walked out into the rest of the floor. “Most of my coworkers are single,” he sighed, as you looked a bit surprised. 
“Maybe I should start forgetting my lunch more often,” Nanami met your flustered gaze, you didn’t want to say goodbye and wait for hours for him to come home. “You could see more of the work we do here,” he smiled, pulling you into a hug, “and all those dull trainees could see what a beautiful wife I have,” you blushed red. 
“Goodbye, Kento, I love you,” you started walking out the building, cheeks flushed and a smile not leaving your face. “Stay safe, Y/n, I love you too,” he replied, watching you leave. “Only a few more hours…” he mumbled in his head, “a few more hours…”
209 notes · View notes
seungmoonandstars · 4 months
Text
Good Morning
Kim Seungmin/Female Reader
wc: 3.6k
rating: fluff/explicit/18+ ಇ
comments: domestic idol!Seungmin! this was my very first Seungmin/skz fic! I wrote this as a precursor to blind date before I even knew I was gonna write blind date. hope you guys like it!
☁︎ ⋆。 ゚☼ 。
You wake early…much earlier than usual, you think. The blackout curtains have been pulled together tightly, and you smile in your half sleep thinking of Seungmin carefully closing them, making sure no sunlight finds its way to the bed. He can’t force himself to sleep late, but sometimes he stays in bed, wrapped in his blanket and playing on his phone until you finally begin to stir.
Not today, though. You roll over to greet his empty, fluffed up pillow, and a carefully placed Pochacco plushie. You let out a breathy laugh and roll to your back. He’s not romantic—not the in traditional sense. He has other ways of showing his affection, and you love it.
Outside the half closed door, the tiniest clatter echoes through the hall. The sound of him swearing in a surprisingly sweet tone, a bang on the counter. He mumbles something else, and the walls of this apartment are thin, so no room for secrets. He’s making breakfast.
Hearing him gives you the boost you need to get yourself out of your tangle of blankets, but before heading to the shower, you open the curtains a few inches to let in a warm stream of sunlight. The room is tidy, save for a small pile of dirty laundry on your side of the wardrobe. As much as you try to mimic his good habits, that one hasn’t really rubbed off on you yet.
Another bang from the hall makes you jump, and you wait a moment for more. Instead, the steady swell of music fills the house.
———
“Minnie, I would’ve done that!” You emerge from the bathroom in a plume of steam, and he’s there, snapping the sheets and blankets smooth again.
“Liar.”
“I thought you were making breakfast, I heard you dropping things out there.”
You wrap your towel tightly around you and head for the pile of clean clothes you’ve yet to put away.
“I did,” he says, turning from the bed to look at you. He runs a hand threw his hair. His natural color, you think, looks best on him, but it rarely stays that way. So you enjoy it while you can. “You know you take very long showers.”
All you give back is a goofy smile, and he returns it before sitting on his freshly made bed. He eyes and nose crinkle dramatically with his smirk, and you feel your face warm up as you turn your attention back to getting dressed. The towel slips to the floor as you fumble with your things, and his eyes are on you. You don’t look back, but you feel his gentle gaze press against your skin, and you blush even more. He’s seen you like this more than a few times, and it should feel natural, but he manages to make stupid little things like this feel brand new.
The music he put on earlier still trickles into the room, louder now that the door is wide open. You slip into your t-shirt and shorts just in time for his arm to reach around your waist and pull you against him. His body is as warm as the shower you just climbed out of. His other arm slowly snakes over your shoulders, and he pulls you even closer as he says something quietly under his breath—but you don’t quite catch it. You push your face into the bend of his elbow and place a kiss against his skin. He smells sweet, but not shower sweet. Just Seungmin sweet.
“You gonna be clingy today?”
“Me? No, never.”
His voice is airy and boyish, which you know is mostly an act, but every time he puts it on you get butterflies and your breath gets caught in your chest.
He lets out a sigh and his warm breath tickles your ear. Then his lips are hot against your neck. A tiny, innocent moan escapes you, making him pull you in even closer.
“Well…maybe you should be.”
You free an arm to reach back for a handful of soft hair. His lips part into a smile and teeth graze against you sensitive skin. But it only lasts a moment before his grip softens and he lets go, and the cool air of the room hits you.
“No, I’m hungry.”
When you look back at him, he cracks a smile that grows until his teeth part, and his tongue pokes out to lick his lower lip.
“Let’s go eat!”
You silently forgive him for teasing you as he leads the way toward the small kitchen. It’s already clean from whatever mess he may have made, but the scent of something savory is hanging in the air. Two plates have already been made up, and next to them, freshly made coffee.
He clicks the music off on his phone and replaces the sound with the television. You wait patiently for him to put on whatever drama he’s currently watching and join you at the table that sits halfway between the kitchen and living room. Seungmin put it in that spot specifically for this purpose.
“You didn’t tell me you’d be free today,” you mix your rice and eggs together in a messy pile before taking a big bite. Seungmin watches you as he drinks his coffee. “Unless you’re going somewhere dressed like that.”
He cocks his head to one side, and then the other as if he’s thinking, before shoving an entire fried egg into his mouth. It’s one of his favorite bed shirts, a little big and stretched around the neck. It’s hanging in a way that shows the curve of his shoulder and just a bit of collarbone.
“You don’t like my shirt?” He adjusts himself and his collarbone disappears underneath. The hair parted at his forehead falls forward as he examines himself and smooths a hand across his chest. When he looks up again, he’s looking at you through curtained eyes.
“No, I do.” You nod as you reach across the table and tug the sleeve down until his shoulder is out again. Before pulling back, you run the pad of your thumb up the soft angle of his neck and stop just underneath his ear.
Seungmin leans into it and his eyes begin to close. “Nooo you don’t, you just want the body underneath.” He combs his fingers through his hair again and licks his lips when his eye connect with yours again. He keeps a serious face for a long moment before his laugh breaks through and bounces softly around the room.
All you can do is smile back at him from behind your coffee cup.
“You do, right?” Now he’s leaning forward, elbows on the table, face cupped in his hands. He doesn’t realize how intense his gaze is, even when he’s just goofing around. The heavy, half-lidded eyes and upturned lips are fighting each other for dominance.
The silence in the room, save for the forgotten tv in the background, is only broken by the sound of your chair sliding back along the floor. “Do you want more coffee?”
Seungmin begins to squeak out a sound of protest, but stops himself and nods solemnly. He’s not very good at being teased, he can only dish it out. The difference between you and him picking at each other is he revels in it; but you can’t help but feel a little guilty every time.
As soon as his mug is full, you lean forward and place a long kiss on the top of his head. Than another on his temple. The corner of his mouth twitches upward. You manage one more on his cheek before he sweeps his head to the left and catches you with his lips. And he holds you there for a long moment, but it feels like you’re holding him there, so now it feel like a game of who’s going to pull back first. And neither of you like losing.
Seungmin cranes his neck up further, deepening the kiss. You open up a little, just enough to bite softly at his lower lip. He smiles, mouth now open against yours, but he doesn’t pull away. The taste of coffee is all over him. He shivers a little when you wrap your hand around the back of his neck and squeeze.
The soft groan he lets out goes right down your throat, and your knees feel like they might give out. You thought you could outlast him, but now you’re not so sure. You push forward anyway, because it feels like he can read your mind when you’re this close and you don’t want him thinking he can shake you that easily today. When you swing your body over his lap, he instinctively grabs your hip and steadies you on top of him, pulling you in and closing the gap between your bodies.
The force causes the front legs of the chair to lift briefly, and you get that dizzy feeling of falling, but Seungmin reaches for the edge of the table and avoids disaster. And he still hasn’t let go of your mouth. His tongue finds its way inside and you feel like you’re drowning. You cup both hands over his face and gently pull him away, inhaling like you’ve finally broken through water.
Refilling your lungs is almost distracting enough to ignore Seungmins proud grin. Almost. The skin around his lips is pink and already a little red from your teeth. His eyes shine up at you as he wipes roughly at his mouth with the heel of his hand, and his other kneads deeply against your inner thigh. It tickles at first, making you jump against him. But then his moan knocks the air right back out of you. There’s silence for a few moments; even the tv has gone quiet. You remove your hand from his face and slide it down his chest. He’s breathing heavily, and can hear the shakiness in his breath.
Seungmin is always cool and composed in these moments, but occasionally you time things just right, and the slightest touch sets him off like a firework. The noise that escapes him when your palm moves between his legs sends a shock of pleasure straight through you.
It makes you think he’s been waiting for something to happen; he’s been so busy for weeks and your time together has been limited—more limited than usual. He can’t always admit when he’s feeling needy, but he’s very good at finishing what either of you start.
His head falls back to expose his neck, and you dive into him. You can taste the saltiness on his skin, but he’s sweet to you. Always soft and warm and sweet.
Fingers slowly climb over your hips and up the small of your back. He’s walking them delicately across your skin until the hem of your shirt is lifted higher and higher. Goosebumps break out all over you, and he notices.
“Ooh, am I doing that?” He leans forward a bit and places a kiss on your throat.
You take the opportunity to run both hands into his hair, slowly raking your fingers through as you gently move your hips against him again. The union of both touches sends him into overdrive, and he pushes his face into your neck as a quiet whimper slips out.
You can help but giggle at his desperate little sound. “Minnie…”
“Don’t laugh at me.” It’s just a whisper, but you can tell that he’s got his innocent act going. He pulls back so you can see his face, but his eyes are closed and he’s biting down on his lip. He looks like he’s drunk, “Minnie what?” there’s a little attitude in his voice.
“Let’s move to bedroom.” You kiss lightly along his jawline.
Moving from the chair to somewhere more comfortable would be preferable, but using your legs now seems impossible.
He wraps his arms around your waist and sits up a little, almost like he’s testing out his leg and core strength. Seungmin doesn’t typically pick you up carry you places, especially not during sex. He thinks it’s cheesy. But sometimes necessity supersedes, and he rises to his feet with surprising ease. He hitches you up a little further and examines your surprised face.
“What?”
“Just, uhm…wasn’t expecting that,” You pull him closer until your cheek is nestled in his hair.
“Don’t be cute.”
“You first.”
“No,” he says matter-of-factly, and covers the short distance to the bedroom in a few long strides.
You prepare yourself to be dropped down onto it from his height—on par with his usual style of foreplay, but instead he sets you down gently on his side of the bed. He stands there for a moment, letting you look him over. The small bit of sunlight coming through the blackout curtains cuts him straight down the middle.
You start with his face, so serious and apathetic, but he’s not. His eyes give him away every time. His skin looks like honey in the gauzy light, and his oversized shirt clings to his skin, showing the long line of his torso. You grab a handful of his sweatpants and pull until his knee comes down gently at your side. Then his whole body is over you, palms pressed into either side of your head.
The shift in pressure where his hands and knees make contact, the change in temperature as he surrounds you, the soft sounds he makes while he’s thinking about what to do next…it fogs up your brain and you have to close your eyes for a moment. They snap open when you feel his hand snake under your shirt. He caresses the skin there as he lifts it higher, lips following up and up until he can get you out of it completely. His comes off next, messing up his hair in the process. That little grin when he shakes his head to fix it wakes you from your temporary stupor, and you pull him down by his hips until you can go after his swollen lips again.
His cock is hard against you, and you need to get out of your clothes faster. Your hand sneaks down to unbutton your shorts, but Seungmin stops you and works on the button and zipper himself. He tucks his thumbs into the waist of his pants and slowly tugs them down over his hips.
You watch eagerly, as if it’s not something you’ve already seen many times before. “Hurry up,” you regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth.
He stops and looks at you, but his eyes are big and wet, “you’re so impatient.” He says it in his sweetest voice as he grabs your hips and pulls you a little further down the bed. He makes himself comfortable between your thighs and kisses slowly along the softest, most sensitive parts, purposely driving you crazy. Again he moves to your stomach, only kissing, but drawing every one out to be as long, slow, and wet as possible.
Your fingers disappear into his hair, grabbing gently but not pulling, then slide down to the nape of his neck to knead into the muscle. He likes that. He moans heavily as his tongue glides across your nipple and up until he’s at your collarbone.
“Seungmin?” It comes out in a heavy whisper. You brush the hair from his forehead and place a kiss there when he lifts his gaze to you.
“Hmm?” He props himself up on one elbow and stares down. The eye contact holds you for a moment before you run a firm hand along his stomach. Your fingers reach his waistband and continue forward until they graze the tip of his cock. He moans and rocks his hips into the touch so he can feel you more. “You want it?” His voice is husky, but needy. And it feels more like a statement than a question.
He knows you want him, but you give him a nod anyway before pulling his face down again to place kisses on his brow, and down the side of his face until you return to his lips. The bed shifts a little and you can hear the rustle of fabric, and then from the corner of your eye, his last piece of clothing falls in a heap next to yours.
“Yes,” you say it firmly, and little desperately, because the anticipation is becoming too much for you.
He always does this, though. He loves the wait. It doesn’t matter how hard he is and for how long. He’s so good at being patient.
The warmth of his open mouth on your neck and the slow, silky touch of his fingers sends your hips upward. You stifle a moan, making what comes out sound like a growl in your chest. He sucks against your skin, deep enough to leave a mark, and his fingers work even harder to make you roll beneath him. He moves his thumb it light circles over your clit.
“No no not yet…”
He stops and looks down at you with eyes that seems a little darker than they did a few moments ago, but nods. His hand wraps around yours and he lets you stroke him a few more times before moving himself into a better position.
When he sits back and looks down at you, your entire body is suddenly on fire; with lust maybe, or it could be a little bit of shyness. Being so vulnerable never seems to get easier, even with Seungmin. Sometimes when he leaves for too long and returns, it feels like something resets—it feels like that first time again.
“What’s the matter?” He crawls over you until you’re face to face, but one hand tucks under your knee and lifts slowly. The head of his cock moves over you. You can feel the heat coming from him. Something flashes in his eyes. The uneasy moment is shaken away by his touch.
“Nothing, pup.”
He uses his free hand to maneuver himself. “Good.” He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear him.
He pushes himself into you gently, slowly, taking great care in feeling every bit of how wet you are as he slides deeper. This feeling of fullness is what you’ve been craving, and he knows exactly what you like. He makes sure to let you savor every second of it. That’s what he likes. Mouth hanging open…breathe shallow and hitchy. He needs to see what he does to you.
He pulls back, letting you get used to him, and then easily finds a pace. The soft moans coming from him drive you crazy, and a smile spreads across your face. He returns it with his own smile, throwing his head back for just a moment to let out a tiny laugh.
Sometimes he gets cute when he loses himself in pleasure. That smile is stuck on him now, and you love it when he’s not too serious. You take his hands into your own and pull him back down against you, making him laugh even more. But he doesn’t miss a beat fucking you, giggly or not. Seungmin nuzzles his face into your neck and gives you his most playful growl. His pace quickens when you wrap your arms and legs around him.
Lips find each other again, and Seungmin growls and nips gently as he kisses. Hips roll smoothly into yours, creating friction in just the right places, and the gentle rocking of the bed makes the contact between you so much more intense.
“Minnie…” you start, but your breath catches in your chest, and your brain can’t seem to form the words you need.
He doesn’t reply, though, just finds your gaze and holds you there. His eyes are half-lidded, but they flutter shut every few seconds. He’s trying to hold himself together, but you know he’s already getting close. You slow him down by putting a hand against his hip.
“Too much?” His eyes widen and his face softens.
“Slow it down…” You run your thumb across the skin below his lip, red and swollen from your bites. “Take your time.”
He listens, but the way he rolls his hips into you pushes you up toward the headboard with every thrust, and while he might be lasting a little longer now, you’re not sure you will.
A moan breaks the breathy silence. Seungmin’s moan.
He picks up his pace again—this time his hand reaches down and finds your swollen clit. Sparks go off behind your eyes the moment he touches you. Two fingers circle lightly at the same pace as his thrusts. Your legs open further, knees drop, giving him as much space and getting him as close as you can manage.
You want it to last, but you need to come. You slowly give in to his touch.
The only thing you need now is his full attention, and as soon as your eyes meet again, you fall apart. The last thing you see before your eyes roll to the back of your head is his cocky smile.
When your body finally relaxes under him, Seungmin takes the opportunity and grabs your hips. He lifts them, squeezes his fingers into you, and fucks hard. Faster and faster, still managing to find just the right spot, and you feel like you could come again. You wrap your legs around him and hold tight. A few more well timed thrusts, and the muscles of his stomach tighten—you feel his release in the way his body stutters for just a moment as he empties himself inside of you. He’s quiet until he finally exhales, and a long, satisfied groan comes with it. You can hear the breath catching in his chest and throat as he holds himself steady.
There’s more silence between you as he wipes a few damp strands of hair from his eyes. His fingers grab and slide from your hip down to your outer thigh. Only then does he pull back and free himself.
“Come here,” you use your other leg to nudge gently at his side.
He climbs over you and carefully lays his body next to yours, face in the bend of your neck. His arms reach around your waist to pull you closer.
Your wrap yourself around his shoulders, hands rubbing and scratching gently at is back.
Seungmin breathes in, sighs deeply, and relaxes against you. “I’m so hungry.”
227 notes · View notes
avocado-writing · 9 months
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notes: I did a lot of research for this and yes, the manuscript I reference is a real thing. I didn’t put its name in though because that felt a step too far 😂 set in the light, the dark, and the spaces in between after ch3 so hope that’s ok! requests like this give me life.
relationship: aziraphale x immortal!reader x crowley
rated: G, pure fluff
word count: 1.4K
if you like my work you can buy me a kofi!
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You’re the one who makes the tea. 
That’s because you’re the only one who changes how you have it: sometimes you fancy a chai, or a green tea, or a lapsang souchong. Sometimes with sugar or a little bit of milk, sometimes with neither, sometimes with an oat alternative. It changes. You’re human, you go through phases. 
But Aziraphale and Crowley? Nah, they’re creatures of habit. Despite the angel’s wide and experimental palate he’s oddly rigorous when it comes to his cuppa. For him, it’s loads of milk and four sugars, drowned to the point where it could hardly be called tea any more. Crowley likes his black and strong and nowhere near anything that could affect the taste. You wring the teabag tortuously into his mug with a teaspoon before grabbing all three servings and heading into the shop. 
You put yours down first, on the side next to the book you’re currently reading, then hand your husbands theirs. They both take them from you in the same way, the way they have done for centuries now, a domestic ritual: accepting the mug you offer and then your hand, pressing a little kiss of thanks and affection to the back of it. 
A heartfelt  intimacy just between the three of you. 
☕️ 
“Hurry Crowley, it’s starting!”
“Yes, yes, alright angel, hang on.”
“We won’t hang on and we’re not pausing it. Not a threat, just a fact,” you call into the kitchen. A couple of seconds later, Crowley emerges from the kitchen with three wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. 
“I’ll be mother, then,” he mutters as the other two of you barely take your eyes off of the telly. You’ve got your legs slung over Aziraphale’s lap and he only takes a break from stroking your knee in absentminded, loving circles to take the proffered glasses from his husband, one for himself and one for you. Crowley plonks down the other side of Aziraphale and throws his own legs over him too, the two of you playing footsie for space across his plush thighs. Eventually the three of you find a comfortable pile and settle in. 
“Another ten weeks of torture begins,” Crowley says as the Bake-off theme ends and the show starts. You nudge him with your toe. 
“You don’t have to watch it with us,” you tell him. He harrumphs but doesn’t argue because, really, of course he’ll watch it with the two of you. It makes you both happy. 
🍞 
Your work is as a consultant for museums around the country, which is a fun way of saying you get paid a lot because you know a lot. But mostly, you only know a lot because you’ve been around for a very long time. So whenever a shard of pottery or a scrap of clothing needs dating they call you to come and put its history into context. 
Also, for the bigger museums, it’s a chance for you to smuggle out the stolen artefacts and return them to their country of origin. You consider it a hobby, a bonus perk of the job. 
You’ve set up this exhibition. It’s for pottery around the end of the Roman rule in Britain, stuff you’ve found and identified around the country on archaeological digs. You lead Crowley and Aziraphale through, discussing your findings in detail, before you come to a small, surprisingly intact, terra sigillata oil lamp. It sits on its own, spot lit. You asked for it that way. 
“See this? I made this. Over a thousand years ago,” you tell them, quietly, gently putting your hand to the glass of the display case. Aziraphale and Crowley take a careful look at the engraving on the object. It bears the profile of a man, and with the sharp cheekbones and little glasses there’s only one person it could be. 
“Oh, Nightingale. It’s lovely,” Crowley says, surprisingly touched. He wraps an arm around you and buries his face into your hair. 
“You could say I’ve held a flame for you for a long time,” you say, and grin. Crowley groans. 
“Did you put my face on a lamp just to keep that pun up your sleeve?”
“Maybe.”
🔥 
You next return to the museum when you pick up that Aziraphale is jealous. He isn’t jealous often but he’s pants at hiding it, and it’s not hard to guess why: he’s just seen that Crowley stuck with you for such a long time you put his face on a piece of bloody pottery. You’d probably be a bit put out too. 
So for a couple of weeks you throw yourself into your work to find the thing that will make it even. And you do, even though it takes a lot of overseas bargaining and promises to do some pro-bono work. 
You finally get the museum in America to agree to send it over for a showing. You arrange a special exhibition specifically for this, where it’s held behind a huge glass case in a dark room with only a small light on it. 
But you get special access because, well, you’re you. So you sneak Aziraphale and Crowley in one night and walk into the display room, wearing a face mask and a pair of protective gloves. 
There it sits: the Canterbury Tales. One of the oldest versions in the world. 
“Oh, this is wonderful!” Aziraphale gasps, peeping over your shoulder to inspect. “I can feel the adoration coming off of it in waves. This was a labour of love, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I’d let you have it for the shop if I had the power. But I think they’d notice if I shoved this one down my top,” you sigh, scanning the pages for what you’re after, then stop dead when you find it. 
“Here. Look.”
You point to one of the illustrations, a mounted rider on a beautiful white horse. Aziraphale takes in a quiet breath and draws closer. Because just as plainly as you put Crowley on your oil lamp, you drew your angel in the Canterbury Tales. Curly hair, pink face, beaming smile. 
“Oh my,” he whispers. You stroke the little picture and remember toiling away over painting it, repeatedly wiping your brow to make sure your sweat didn’t smudge your work. 
“I put you in all the copies I could get my hands on. And you,” you turn to Crowley, “your face is probably buried on my pottery in a dozen dig sites across the UK. I’m just saying I’ve loved the two of you since the day we met; always have, always will.”
Your husbands look at each other and then at you, before as one they step forward to embrace you. 
“And we’re lucky to have you,” Crowley whispers in your ear, as Aziraphale kisses your cheek. Their hands meet at your back and they interlace their fingers with each other, you wrap your arms around them and stay like that for a moment; three working parts of a whole. 
They kiss, and then they kiss you. You feel warm and rosy. Then you spend the evening reading through the book from beginning to end. 
📖 
You keep your wedding ring on a chain around your neck at work. Not because you’re embarrassed that you're married; far from it - it’s far too precious to risk losing while constantly taking protective gloves on and off all day. So you don’t blame your colleague for asking you on a date. He’s young, fresh out of uni, and of course has no idea you’re old enough to be his grandparent forty times over. 
“That’s very kind,” you tell him, and his face falls because he knows where this is going, “but I’m already happily married.”
He sighs in embarrassment but manages to recover quickly, instead telling you: “they must be someone special to have you.”
He’s doing the polite thing by not assuming the gender of your spouse but it turns out “they” is right on the money. On cue, Aziraphale and Crowley walk through the door to pick you up at the end of your shift. You wish your colleague goodbye and go to meet them. 
“Evening, darling,” Crowley calls. 
“How was work, my love?” Aziraphale follows up. 
“Oh, fine. I’m tired now. And hungry. Can we go and get dinner?”
You link an arm through either of theirs, heading out into the London afternoon. 
“Ooh yes, that is a good idea. I quite fancy fish and chips!”
“Let’s go to that spot round the corner. They make their own tartar sauce. Crowley, are you getting your own chips or nicking mine when I’m not looking?”
“The best tasting chips are the ones you steal.”
“Oh, he doesn’t even deny it—!”
Your colleague watches you leave the building, a little dazed, and supposes it takes all sorts to make a world. 
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