#@towapet i hope u enjoy this hahah ur posts live rent free in my brain

[floofymeow]

FujiTowa AgeRe Oneshot

Based upon a one-off post from @towapet abt fujitowa age regression (its actually wild how far of a rabbit hole I went into thinking about agere bc of this).

In like a 2am haze I woke up randomly and couldn't go back to sleep so I wrote a cute little Fujieda x Towa short........... at least I'm pretty happy with it..!!! here's to the tumblr void to commemorate <3

1k words, age regression fujieda + towa, sfw, fluff!

Fujieda shoved down the intense wave of fuzziness breaching boundaries of his mind. The day was a long one—and his clients were particularly difficult. There was no one to tell him “good work”, only suspicious glares and doubtful scoffs.

This was fine. Fujieda didn’t mind. He chose this line of work, and at this point in his life, it was the ideal outcome—the necessary kind of occupation that he was obligated to fulfill. His movements felt sluggish as he turned the car off and stepped into his condo.

The Friday was over. It was a particularly rough week. Three out of five nights of late overtime had been sludged through. Words melted down his throat as he glanced over to a languid Towa, who spoke a simple greeting while setting out the plates for dinner.

Towa.

Watching him, another stronger wave of weightlessness rushed through him—and Fujieda frowned, though he didn’t force it to stop. The last time he did, he was left with a severe weekend migraine and a bad attitude, according to Towa.

Fujieda’s fuzzy mind began to regain clarity somewhat, but all that remained was an absent-minded desire to lounge on the couch and continue playing where he left off on the console. The exhaustion of the last month seemed to drift far away from him, as the thought of playing games grew stronger. It was a good thing he had all weekend.

A decided satisfaction spread through his chest as he nodded to himself and began to quickly eat—faster and sloppier, as if he had a million things to do other than eat.

Towa watched on curiously.

“Fujieda?”

Fujieda frowned, disliking the sound of his last name. It sounded impersonal. As if Towa were a stranger. He really didn’t like that.

“Fujieda sounds weird. Can’t you just call me Ryo?”

The low, yet curtly juvenile tone brought a softened light to Towa’s expression. His lips thinned into a smile, “Sure. Ryo, any plans this weekend?”

Ryo didn’t answer until he polished plate off. He shoved away from the table and dropped his dishes in the sink carelessly.

“Just games this weekend. I…that’s fine right? You’re not gonna be mad?”

“Nope. Sounds good to me.”

“Cool,” Ryo nodded with an awkward pause.

He diverted his eyes from Towa’s smile. It was too pretty—he didn’t know how to react whenever he saw it. It made his heart pound. He tensed as Towa stretched his slender arm up, fingers outstretched—

And rubbed Ryo’s head back and forth with a gentle touch. A wave of comfort washed over Ryo, loosening his shoulders. He always tried to hide his thoughts from Towa. He didn’t want Towa to know he thought that about him. It’d be weird.

Except that…

He glanced up, watching Towa wash dishes. Towa hadn’t done anything to… be weirded out or anything. Besides, they both regressed all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. Towa never cared either—in fact, Ryo always thought the smiles he got were better than when he was an adult.

“Towa…”

“What is it?”

“What do you…plan to do?”

“Paint. Maybe turn on a show to watch. Why?”

Ryo mussed through his own hair, hand fidgeting with his nape.

“Join me? In the same room. I’ll be sitting on the couch.”

“Sounds good. I’ll bring my things over.”

And just like Towa said, he brought his stand over and began to paint—Ryo wasn’t sure what it was. He forgot to ask, distracted the moment he begun playing games.

His mind buzzed with a simple contentment as he progressed the story quest, hacking down enemies and tapping through high-energy dialogue. Only when he couldn’t feel his legs would he stand up, stretch, and grab a glass of water.

That was when he finally realized Towa was still standing nearby in his painting apron, concentrating on his canvas. His eyes shone with an intense focus, one that Ryo didn’t want to interrupt. The outlines of children’s items began to form—toy trains, coloring crayons, and the little stuffed rabbit that now belonged to him.

Ryo watched for a few more seconds, then returned to his own game silently. He loved that he didn’t have to explain himself. That there was just the soft hum of battle music and decent voice acting, as well as the rustle of Towa’s apron and his brushed scraping the canvas. Nothing overwhelmingly abrasive. No one to tell him what to do. Just him and Towa coexisting in the same space.

He zoned out playing games, losing track of minute to hour. Just as he defeated a difficult area’s boss, two fingers hesitantly tugged on his sleeve, and a heavy weight slumped against him. Ryo looked over, and Towa's yawning softened features rubbed against his shoulder.

“Ryo,” he whispered with a childish drawl. He tugged on Ryo’s shoulder again, as if expectant.

Ryo wasn’t bothered at all. He paused the game and brought his arms around Towa. Towa giggled softly in his arms. Ryo indulged in the wispy, contented noises, before spoke up.

“Where’s your friend?”

Towa’s eyes widened. He wiggled out of Ryo’s grasp and tottered to the other room. Ryo moved his gaze back to the screen and hit resume. His fingers hit the console buttons in subconscious order, passing through a decently challenging parkour section.

The clumsy steps alerted Ryo that Towa had returned. And without a word, Ryo scooted over and raised his arms higher, eyes not leaving the screen. Towa carefully nestled himself within, this time, the worn out rabbit plush snugly in his lap. Ryo lowered his arm. Towa put his elbow atop Ryo’s, the movement of him rubbing the somewhat matted fur of the bunny relayed through Towa’s movements.

His head leaned back against Ryo’s chest—and after a few minutes of squirming, he finally settled into the perfect position. Their eyes watched the video game screen, bodies stuck together. Like pieces of a puzzle.

Pieces that, at one point, did not fit into their own story—but now slot perfectly into each other’s.

One younger, one slightly older.

Both perfectly content.