#feeling so domestic today I’m sick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

like-a-diamondinthesky · 11 months ago

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five minutes | l.m.h

pairing... bf!minho x gn!reader tags... established relationship, disgustingly fluffy, excessive references to soondoongdori, minho is a cat personified, soft mimo!

operation put your boyfriend to sleep in five minutes is a go.

wc... 1.4k words a/n... ah, yet another domestic fluff fic featuring softy minho. a star specialty! sorry guys this is kinda my fav thing to write ever r u sick of me 😁 anywayz this was inspired by this soft thought and this tiktok like i saw it and immediately thought : lee minho.

ALSO ALSO! HUGE THANK YOU FOR 1K FOLLOWERS! i never would've thought i'd reach this milestone and words couldnt express how incredibly grateful i am for each and every one of you who read and enjoy my works <3 i love you guys thank you so much!

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Minho turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open, greeting Soonie who stood by the entrance with a tilted head. Shutting the door, he hung his bag on the coat rack and bent down to pet his beloved cat’s chin.

“Hi, baby,” the cat nuzzled his head into Minho’s palm and circled around his arm, “where are your brothers, hm?”

Meow… Soonie walked off to the living room as if to answer Minho’s question. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he followed his cat toward the faint nose of your favorite series playing on the TV.

When he entered the room, Minho saw your figure strewn lazily across the couch. Dori was cuddled up against your chest and Soonie hopped up to join Doongie by your feet. His heart warmed at the sight of his loves all huddled together.

“Honey, I’m home,” Minho grabbed your attention with his gentle, sing-song tone, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

You switched your attention from the screen in front of you to the man standing in the doorway, returning his smile and giving a small wave. “Hi, my love. How was your day?”

Minho padded over to you, scooped Dori up against his chest, and settled himself where the cat had previously taken solace in your arms.

“It was alright,” he said, scooching backward to press his back firm against your front. “Tiring, as usual, but it's fine.”

Though he couldn't see it, you nodded in acknowledgment and pressed a soft kiss to his head. You brought one hand up behind his ear to scratch at his scalp, something you had found he enjoyed.

“Do you want to go to bed already? It is pretty late.” From its place above the TV, the clock read 10:37 PM. “Maybe we should move our little cuddle session to the bedroom.”

Minho sighed and shook his head. “But, I'm already so comfy here. Plus, you wouldn't dare disturb the cats, would you?”

“Please, remember the last time we slept on the couch the whole night? I don’t think we want that happening again.”

“Y/n,” Minho called your name, dragging out the last syllable. “My back hurts so much! Remind me why we stayed on the couch again.”

“I told you we should have moved to the bed! But you wouldn’t listen to me,” you snickered at your boyfriend from the kitchen while you continued to whisk a couple of eggs for your breakfast.

You set the bowl down on the counter and walked over to Minho who was still lying on the couch. When you came into his sight, he made a show of stretching his arms and legs, akin to a cat, accompanied by a few exaggerated groans.

“I don’t think I can get up at all today. I should just call in sick,” Minho draped an arm over his face, letting the other fall limp over the edge of the cushion.

“Don’t you have an important meeting today? I doubt your boss would appreciate you missing that on account of an 'ouchy' back.”

“Well, maybe if you gave me more cuddles, I’d feel a bit better.” Minho peeked at you from under his arm, proposing this cute, yet slightly impractical, solution. “Unless you want me to miss work and stay at home with you today.”

“Alright, you big baby.” Rolling your eyes, you moved to straddle Minho’s lap, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. Now chest to chest, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting the other one snake up his neck to play with the hairs at his nape.

The time you spent wrapped in each other’s warmth turned from seconds to minutes, the comfortable silence lulling you back to sleep. Minutes turned to hours, leaving Minho’s meeting unattended and the scrambled eggs forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Ugh, at least give me five more minutes,” Minho offered as he continued to stroke Dori’s back, drawing a vibrating purr from the cat. “I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“Oh, come on, you have to brush your teeth anyways. Now get your lazy bum off the couch so we can cuddle on the bed.” You grabbed the throw pillow from behind your back and swung it at Minho’s side, accidentally startling Dori in the process. The cat jumped out of the man’s arms, causing him to throw a frown over his shoulder.

“Now look what you did! You’re scaring our babies.” Finally, Minho stood up, offering you his hand to pull you up as well. You met his hand with your own and anchored yourself up, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Oops.” You shrugged and skipped off to the bedroom, leaving your boyfriend with your three cats in the living room.

“Unbelievable.” Minho took a few steps towards the bathroom, paused, and turned back to look at his cats. “Well, are you coming with me or not?”

While your boyfriend finished his night routine, you lay on your shared bed and grinned to yourself. Operation Put Your Boyfriend to Sleep in Five Minutes was a go. You knew Minho was tired, and you wanted to send him off into a good night’s sleep in the most loving way you could.

The hallway light switched off as Minho opened the door to your bedroom, sporting a playful frown. It was time for Step One: Put him in a blanket.

“Come here, baby,” you peeled the duvet back and patted the space on the bed right next to you, beckoning your pouty boyfriend over to you. “Let’s get you to sleep, yeah?”

Trudging over to his side of the bed, Minho slid onto the mattress and pulled the heavy duvet over his body. Freshly washed, the warm, lavender-scented blanket immediately soothed his senses.

“You could’ve at least stayed with me while I brushed my teeth,” Minho continued to pout as he turned on his side to face you, “and, I don’t know, given me a back hug or something.”

Though his tone was playful, you recognized the look in Minho’s gaze. He yearned for your comfort, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. Reaching over, you cupped his face, gently caressing his cheek with your thumb. You peppered a few pecks on the corners of his mouth, kissing his pout away. Perfect timing for Step Two: Give reassuring pets.

“I’m here now, it’s okay.” His hair was soft in between your fingers as you threaded them through the fluffy locks. They smelled faintly of his coconut shampoo.

Tired, Minho let out a yawn, nose scrunched and eyelids shut. He leaned into your touch, humming contently.

Faintly, the door creaked open and you could hear light thuds on the carpeted floor, followed by a slightly louder thud on the bed as Doongie entered the bedroom and jumped up to join you. He stepped all over Minho’s body—drawing out a quiet yelp from the man beside you. You giggled as Doongie finally plopped down on Minho’s pillow, snuggling against the top of his head. This brought you to Step Three: Tuck him in.

With your boyfriend lying under the covers, you hooked one leg over him, moving your hand on his head to tuck it into your neck, cradling his body with no intent to stop any time soon.

For a second, the universe felt still. It was as though the ever-rotating hands on the clock had stopped moving, pausing to witness this intimate moment between you and Minho; as if even the angels in the skies above didn’t want this sweet gesture to end.

That was until Minho decided to take matters into his own hands and execute Step Four: Put one arm out for temperature regulation.

“It's too warm!” Minho whined into your neck, breaking the silence, and removed one arm from under the blanket, exposing it to the cold air. “Ah, that's better.”

He turned on his side and wrapped his now free arm around the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, if that were even physically possible.

Seeing your bodies pressed flush against each other, Soonie—who was previously lounging at the foot of the bed—crawled up the sheets and nuzzled into the barely-there gap between you and Minho, with Dori following suit.

Within five minutes of lying down, the night ended with your small family cuddled together on the warm, cozy bed, basking in each other’s comfort.

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taglist: @kflixnet @jinnixxn @elllisaaa @captainchrisstan @laylasbunbunny @starsandrqindrops @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @forlix @mires-empire @quesweebs

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

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megumiluvv · 5 months ago

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One day, Choso is confused when you cancel watching Yuji with no explanation. Usually, there’s a long apology and reasoning, usually a last-minute scheduling issue, but today? Radio silence. After getting his uncle over to watch Yuji, Choso walks next door to check on you, knowing he’ll be late to his nth part-time job.

When you don’t answer the door, he uses the spare key you gave him, and he calls for you. Still, no response.

He gets to your room to see you passed out on your bed, phone in hand with a half-typed explanation to him, and blankets twisting with your legs. Choso picks up your phone, reading the half-typed text with multiple spelling errors, able to make out “ghreq ip” and “um so sprty”, knowing it probably means “threw up” and “I’m so sorry”.

The dark-haired male frowns and shuts off your phone, putting it on the charger and onto your nightstand. He then shuts off your lamps and fixes your blanket. Choso then goes to your kitchen and calls into work, claiming he’s sick and can’t make it to work. He then starts to cook your favorite soup.

You wake up to the smell of food, the feeling of dread instantly occurs, thinking you accidentally cooked something while delirious after throwing up. You scramble out of bed and hurry into the kitchen and find none other than your neighbor cooking soup for you.

“Choso?” You mumble, sleepy and confused, throat hoarse from your earlier vomiting.

“Go back to bed,” he mumbles, not even turning to look at you as he continues to cook. “Actually, try the soup, does it need anything?”

He carefully blows on the spoon to cool the broth and then brings it to your lips. You taste the soup and nod.

“Good.” Is all you manage to say as you watch him cook. It never gets old. Watching how docile and domestic he can be while looking so imposing and menacing.

He lays you back in bed despite your protests, and leaves the room. He quickly returns with a bowl of soup and sits in front of you.

“Here, open up.”

“Nooo, go work, I’ll get you sick,” you mumble.

“Don’t care, open up, I already said I’m not working today.”

“Fiiine…”

He carefully cools each bite of soup for you and spoon feeds you. Choso smiles at your tired, sickly expression.

“Yuji’s with our uncle, if you were wondering,” he mumbles and feeds you, letting you sip your water.

“What was his name again?” You mumble.

“Sukuna. He instantly thought of something inappropriate when I said you cancelled today.”

“Oh god…”

“Yup. Instant smirk on his face.”

“What’d he say?”

“Said that you and I should be more careful.” Choso rolls his eyes at the innuendo left by his uncle’s words.

“He thinks I’m bedridden because… that’s so inappropriate…” It took you a while to get the innuendo, but when it did click, your cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, it is.” He agrees.

He goes back to feeding you instead of continuing the topic.

“Yuji misses you already. He said he wanted to play hide and seek today.”

“Maybe we’ll play next time.”

“I’m off work for the rest of the week.”

“Oh, guess I’ll have to wait til next week, then.”

“Who says my dear neighbor can’t visit any time when they feel better?”

“Right, we’re neighbors, friends, not just babysitter and employer, huh?” You smile, starting to feel better after eating.

“Yeah, we are, aren’t we?” He smiles too, always smiling when he sees yours. “Feel better and the three of us can all play.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m working on feeling better. Give me like, a day or two,” you mumble and lay down.

Choso chuckles and contemplates lying beside you, but doesn’t want your protests about getting him sick. He decides to let you rest and he fixes your covers, then puts up the leftover soup and cleans the dishes, staying quiet so he doesn’t wake you. He could get used to doing small things for you.

Masterlist

#brothers babysitter au #choso kamo #choso #jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #jjk #choso kamo x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk choso kamo #felt sick and then felt inspired

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msmk11 · 4 months ago

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Maybe

Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

WC: 1.3k

CW: Pregnancy, giving birth, Coryo being absent, some fluff, ANGST

Summary: You love your husband, but his growing inattentiveness becomes harder and harder to handle, especially with the arrival of your baby.

A/n: I don’t think I’ll ever have it it in me to write Coryo as perfect and sweet cuz he SUCKS. So you get a little fluff here, but a lot of angst still.

Day 8 of mk’s mad dash

The last certainty your husband offered you was on your wedding day when he said “I do.”

That was a year ago.

You knew he was busy. Coriolanus was rising through the ranks so rapidly you wouldn’t be surprised if he assumed the presidency within the next five years. Of course, you were proud of him. Not only was it your duty as his wife to wholeheartedly support him, you also truly, genuinely cared about his happiness and success. But as with everything, there was a cost. In your courtship, Coryo was so very attentive, loving, and dedicated to you. He made you feel special, and you had no trouble falling in love with him. But once he slipped that ring on your finger, all of it came to a halt. It’s not that he entirely ignored you- no, sometimes you saw the glimpses of your old Coryo when he was on top of you at night, or when you went to socialite parties- but you had often been left to fend for yourself this past year.

You absolutely tried to be understanding when your husband would remind you how busy he was, and how he was doing all this hard work for your happiness, but frankly, you missed him. And was it really so wrong for a wife to miss her husband?

Your loneliness and desire for your husband only worsened tenfold when you learned that you were with child. Coryo, of course, was thrilled that you sired an heir. But with him gone all day, and often at outings at night, you saw less and less of him as your pregnancy moved along. You went through your morning sickness alone, felt the first kick alone, learned the baby’s sex alone, and picked out the baby’s room decorations alone. You were desperately hopeful that the birth of your child, your son, would bring Coriolanus back into your arms, a paternal instinct drawing him into the realm of the domestic.

So when the day came that your water broke and contractions started, though you were overcome with anxiety about giving birth, the hope that fluttered in your chest for the return of your husband far superseded it.

You were out tending to the rose garden when it happened, your long, white flowy dress suddenly soaked. You calmly rushed inside to the phone and dialed Coriolanus’ office.

“Office of Coriolanus Snow, this is Lilith. How can I help you today?” A perky, feminine voice asked.

“Hi Lilith, this is Coriolanus’ wife. Can I please speak to him?” You said kindly as you rubbed soothing circles over your swollen stomach.

“Mr. Snow is very busy right now,” Lilith told you calmly, “can I take a message?”

“Lilith, please,” you answered a little more desperately, “this is an urgent call.”

You heard the clacking of her nails against the computer, “one moment.”

The line goes silent, and you know she’s stepped away to speak to your husband. Every second you had to wait to hear Coryo’s deep voice on the other end, the more anxious you began to feel. It was really starting to kick in- you were about to have a baby.

The line crackled and then, “Darling?”

“Coriolanus” you sighed, relieved.

“What’s wrong? I’m very busy here,” he told you seriously.

“The baby. He’s coming. My water just broke.”

Your husband inhaled sharply on the other side of the phone, “Oh, okay. Okay. Well, are you alright? How’re you feeling?”

You cupped your bump gently, “I’m okay right now, sweetheart. But I imagine contractions will start to kick in soon. Can you come home?”

And then, your voice slightly broke, “Please. I need you Coryo.”

“Yes, of course, darling. I’ll be home as soon as I call the doctor.”

“Okay, thank you,” you said, voice shaky.

You hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

*****

Pain. White hot, blinding pain consumed your body and you couldn’t stop the screams that were leaving your body. The doctor was saying something to you but you didn’t care. You just wanted it all to stop.

Tears were streaming down your face and you kept shaking your head, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

Suddenly, like an angel, Coriolanus was in your view, white light shining down on his blonde curls creating a halo. Your sobs quieted at his face.

“Coryo,” you hiccupped, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He placed his hand on your forehead, stroking your sweaty baby hairs away from your face, and your eyes fluttered shut at his touch.

“Darling, you can. I promise. You know why?”

You opened your eyes again and stared intently into his bright blue ones, “why?”

“Because you’re a Snow now. And Snows can do anything.”

“Snows can do anything,” you murmured.

Can. Coriolanus said can. The first firm answer from him in a year. If he could give you that, you could do this.

Your husband nodded at you, a soft smile on his face, “Good girl.”

He moved his hand from your forehead down to your hand and clasped it tightly. His encouragement is what allowed you to start pushing again.

As you pushed, your screams returned. But instead of hopeless, frail screams, they were determined and strong. Soon enough, smaller, whiny screams filled the air- your baby’s.

The doctor swooped the baby out from between your legs, “it’s a boy.”

Tears began to stream down your face again, but they were happy tears.

“Coryo, we have a baby,” you sobbed.

Your husband bent down and kissed your forehead tenderly, “well done, darling. Our very own baby boy.”

“Mr. Snow, the umbilical cord.”

Coriolanus stood and gave your hand one more squeeze before walking over to your baby. With slightly shaking hands he cut the cord, and then your baby boy was placed gently into his arms. He walked over to you, the softest look on his face.

“He’s here,” Coriolanus said, placing the baby into your arms.

Your son was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and your heart swelled as you quickly noticed some of Coryo’s features and your own on the face of your son.

“He’s perfect.”

*****

After everything had settled and the doctor left, it was just you and your perfect little family cradled together in the master bedroom of your home. Your baby boy sat cooing in your arms, swaddled in a soft blue blanket, while Coriolanus sat behind you, arm around your shoulders and head peering over you to stare at him.

“We make a pretty good baby, Coryo,” you told your husband softly.

“Mhmm, that we do.”

You leaned into his touch as your husband began to run soothing strokes up and down your side. If everything could stay just like this, you would be perfectly happy. You’d never ask for anything else in your life.

“Sweetheart,” you implore softly.

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you think you’ll be able to take some time off work, to be with me and the baby?”

His hand on your side stilled and he inhaled sharply, “darling.”

You turned to look at him, big eyes soft and pleading, “Coryo, please. The baby needs his father.”

You paused.

“And I need my husband.”

Coriolanus hesitated, and you wished you could tell what was going on in that always-running brain of his.

“Maybe, darling.”

Maybe.

The death and birth of hope.

It wasn’t a no- the word so ingrained in your brain that you saw it seared on the back of your eyelids. And in that, there was hope. Hope that you’d get your husband back. That you’d get to be a mother alongside him as a father. That everything could be the way it used to.

But maybe wasn’t a yes either. One too many times now you’d gotten your hopes up when Coryo responded to one of your requests with a maybe.

Well maybe you didn’t like his answer.

Maybe you didn’t like feeling abandoned or alone.

Maybe.

But instead, all you said was, “okay.”

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simplygojo · 2 months ago

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Mysterious Day Off

Author's Note: I love the idea of domestic Toji so I actually LOVEDDD writing out this prompt request. TYSM for requesting! I hope this is up to your standards! We love a sexy lazy man.

Pairing: Toji Fuhsiguro x f!reader

Request: "'Let's spend the whole day in bed.' 'We have a few more minutes.' but toji and his partner with a job (his unemployed ass 🙄) i'm jk i love him the things i'd do to have him as my partner are unspeakable (for this can we imagine he's a stay at home partner? or maybe he has a day off? or he works from home idk how that'd work considering who he is but we're rolling with it 😭)" - Anonymous

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: none

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You blinked your eyes open, still wrapped in the comfort of the blankets, only to find yourself tangled in Toji’s arms.

He lay beside you, his face buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His strong arm was slung over your waist, keeping you close, as if he had no intention of letting you go.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep as he nuzzled deeper into the crook of your neck, placing lazy kisses against your skin.

You sighed, running your fingers through his messy dark hair, savouring the feeling of his warmth.

But reality was already creeping in. You had work today, and as much as you loved mornings like this, you couldn’t stay wrapped in his arms all day.

“Toji…” You whispered though you didn’t make any immediate move to get up. You were enjoying the quiet moment, the way his broad chest rose and fell with each slow breath.

“Hm?” He hummed, not bothering to open his eyes, his grip tightening around you as if he could sense you thinking about leaving. “What’s the rush? Let’s spend the whole day in bed.”

You laughed softly, but you knew better. “I can’t. Some of us actually have to work, you know.”

Toji finally opened one eye, peering at you with a lazy, teasing grin. “I’ve got the day off.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting a little in his hold. “What a mysterious day off…you know, I still don’t even know what you do for work.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his voice full of amusement. “It’s better if you don’t.”

That only made you more curious, but you’d stopped asking a while ago.

Toji was Toji; mysterious and frustratingly secretive. But right now, you had more pressing matters than figuring out his job—like getting to your job on time.

With a sigh, you carefully untangled yourself from his arms and swung your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. “Well, I don’t have the day off. I need to get going, or I’m going to be late.”

As you stood and reached for your clothes, you felt Toji’s eyes on you, watching every movement like a predator watching his prey.

He stretched out on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, smirking as you grabbed your blouse from the back of your chair.

“You sure you have to go?” He asked, his voice a low, tempting drawl. “We’ve got a few more minutes. Could make ‘em count.”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of him stretched out, shirtless, looking far too inviting.

The way his dark hair was tousled, the way the sheets clung to his form… It was almost enough to convince you to call in sick—almost.

But you had to be strong. You had responsibilities. A big-shot financial advisor in Tokyo couldn’t exactly blow off work to cuddle all day. Right?

“Toji,” you warned, walking to the edge of the bed as you slipped your blouse on over your head. “Don’t make this harder.”

He sat up, moving with that effortless grace he always had, and in a second, his arms were around your waist, pulling you back onto the bed with him.

You let out a startled laugh as he pinned you beneath him, his lips ghosting over your neck.

“Toji,” you warned, though your resolve was already weakening. “Don’t make this harder.”

"Harder? I’m not even trying yet," he teased, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands wandered up your sides, his touch warm and gentle, but the way he was looking at you was anything but innocent.

You couldn’t help but melt under his touch, your protests growing weaker with every kiss. “Toji… I really… have to…”

He cut you off with a kiss, capturing your lips in a slow, heated embrace that made you forget whatever you were about to say.

His hands were all over you now, tracing the curve of your waist, slipping under your blouse as if trying to remind you just how good it felt to stay right there, with him.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless, your mind foggy with a mixture of desire and frustration.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite behind it.

Toji grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

You couldn’t deny that. No matter how infuriating he could be, no matter how much he loved to tease, you loved him. And he knew it.

But you still had work.

With great effort, you pushed at his chest, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Seriously. I have to go.”

He let out a low groan of disapproval, releasing you and rolling onto his back and throwing an arm behind his head.

You crawled off the comfy bed and slid on your dress pants. After glancing at the clock, you frantically combed your hair and brushed on some mascara at your small vanity in the corner.

As you turned the doorknob, you glanced back at him one last time.

Toji was still lounging in bed, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he watched you, but there was something in his eyes, a softness beneath the usual teasing glint.

Have a good day saving Tokyo or whatever it is you do. But don’t blame me when yer missin’ me all day.”

You smirked, opening the door and taking one last look at the beautiful man laying before you.

“I’ll survive.”

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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pasilyo — fushiguro toji.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking." "Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone. Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am," he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes." Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, Husband and Wife, Parenthood, Husband! Toji, Mamaguro! Reader, Comfort, Fix-It, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Mention of Familial Abuse, Mention of Neglect, Megumi is Such A Cute Baby, Toji Is The BEST Wife Guy;

WORDS: 5.4k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi guys, i'm sorry i've been out and about. my other brother got sick and i've been the one doing much of the his chores and taking care of our younger brother!!! i'm about to write 'thirty-nine' and will be doing another poll for the upcoming works!!! thank you for your understanding and love!!! also @v4ntaaa-w4ves has been waiting for this, so i hope i deliver!!! many thanks <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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AS A BOY, ZENIN TOJI THINKS HE WAS SACRED TO SLEEP. He remembered how it was frightening to even bat his eyes closed as a boy. His father had a harsh attitude about remaining alert at all times. Jinichi was father’s favorite for that reason, he thinks. Toji never slept a wink on those rough days.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have time to dodge the incoming attack. Toji learned from an early age that he had to learn fast, that he had to grow up quickly, and be the strongest. Or he wouldn’t be able to live. In those days, he thinks that he really wasn’t deserving to be alive. And he hated it. He hated it every single day.

Those memories are etched deeply into his mind, a stark reminder of the relentless training and constant vigilance. The Zenin way. He hated the Zenin way. And he perhaps always will for the rest of his life. He feels at times that he is still that boy again.

The fear of closing his eyes, even for a moment, was ingrained in him, the bruises and scars serving as his father's unforgiving lessons. Jinichi, with his ability to stay awake and alert, became the favored son quite quickly, leaving Toji to struggle on his own. To be alone in that pit, alone with those cursed spirits as he cried.

Toji's childhood was a relentless cycle of pain and survival, where sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Where youth was thrown for the greed of power, of strength. He learned to anticipate danger, to read the slightest shift in his surroundings, to become a weapon honed by necessity.

It was a brutal existence, but it shaped him into the man he is today. Toji sighs, shaking his head. Those days were over, they were long gone. He doesn’t have to go back. He doesn’t have to suffer anymore. He looks at you and closes his eyes. He’s here, with you. That’s all that matters.

Now, lying beside you, those old habits are hard to break. After all this time, he still doesn’t sleep well. There were a lot of things that have changed about Fushiguro Toji. But the years of conditioning still grip him tightly, making it difficult to find peace even in the safety of your embrace completely. Yet, as he watches you sleep, Fushiguro Toji feels a small measure of that peace seep into his heart.

Toji thinks that he needs to pinch his arm every morning he wakes up. He doesn't think this is real, living his life with you. It's hard to believe that it's been a few years since you've changed his life, for all the better. He turns to you, looking at your still sleeping form. He sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. Every inch of you is a treasure to Toji.

His rough exterior belies the tenderness he feels as he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. The memories of his past, filled with turmoil and struggle, seem to fade away in the presence of your serene beauty. Toji feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and peace you've brought into his life.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, careful not to wake you. As he pulls back, he takes a moment to marvel at how perfectly you fit into his arms, how natural it feels to have you by his side. It's a stark contrast to the solitary life he once led, filled with danger and loneliness.

Toji's hand finds yours beneath the covers, and he intertwines your fingers, feeling the warmth and reassurance of your touch. He knows he's not dreaming, that this is his reality now, a reality he never thought he deserved but one he cherishes deeply.

Toji thinks that his hands are soaking wet, or maybe he’s just feeling it, like a river overflowing with summer rain’s tears falling from the sky. He’s overwhelmed with relief that he could be with you, that he lives a life like this, free from grief and pain. It’s always been like this since you both met.

Toji can pinpoint that exact moment when he first looked at you, the spark that burst inside him. It was your smile—that’s the thing that made him feel alive. Even now, as you sleep, you smile so beautifully. When you smile, Toji thinks the world becomes a better place. It becomes a wonder. And he lives it, every day. And he loves it.

He brushes the hair from your face and takes a languid sigh. If he were to have the words to speak, he thinks they wouldn’t be enough. The words existing wouldn’t be enough to capture the wonder he’s found in you. How his body aches to never be apart from you. How in every breath he takes, he cannot help but look at you. Even when he’s at work, he ends up thinking of you. Of wanting you. Of longing to be with you.

And now that you’ve given him the world, the blessings of life in the form of your dearest son, Megumi, he thinks that everything he feels for you has multiplied tenfold. He never imagined he could feel this way, so completely and utterly devoted. But here he is, holding onto this life, this love, with everything he has.

Toji’s chest tightens with emotion as he gazes at you, feeling a mixture of awe and contentment. You’ve transformed his world, filling it with light and joy he never thought possible. And now, with Megumi, that love has only deepened, rooting itself firmly in his heart.

He knows that no words could ever fully express what you mean to him, but every day, he’ll show you. He’ll show you in the way he holds you, the way he cherishes each moment, the way he dreams of growing old by your side. Because with you, Toji has found everything he never knew he needed, and he’ll spend the rest of his life loving you as fiercely as he does now.

Toji's thoughts are interrupted by the subtle shift in your breathing as you slowly wake. He watches as your eyelids flutter open, and a sleepy smile spreads across your face when you see him. That smile—the one that always melts his heart, no matter how many times he's seen it.

"Good morning," you murmur, your voice soft and warm, like the first light of dawn.

Toji leans in, his hand still gently brushing your hair back. "Good morning to you." he replies, his voice low and tender. He can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he looks at you, his heart swelling with emotion.

You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the contact. "You’ve been awake for a while." you say, a knowing look in your eyes.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking."

"Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone.

Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am, y'know?" he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes."

Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

"I know." he murmurs, his hand coming to rest over yours, holding it against his chest. "But sometimes… It feels like a dream. A good dream. One I don’t ever want to wake up from."

"You won’t," you assure him, your voice filled with gentle certainty. "We’re in this together, for the long haul. You, me, and Megumi. We’re a family."

The mention of Megumi brings a softness to Toji’s expression that only you’ve ever seen. "Our family," he echoes, the words filling him with a deep sense of fulfillment.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and Toji melts into it, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss just slightly, savoring the moment. When you pull back, your eyes meet his, and there’s a warmth there that makes his chest tighten with emotion.

"I love you, babe." you whisper, your voice carrying all the sincerity in the world.

"I love you too." Toji replies, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I can ever say."

You smile again, and Toji feels that familiar spark ignite in his chest, the one that started it all. He knows, deep down, that with you, he’s found something he never thought he deserved. And he’ll do everything in his power to keep it, to keep you, for as long as he lives.

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing you both in its gentle glow, Toji feels a profound sense of peace settle over him. This is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━

TOJI THINKS THAT HE REMEMBERS YOUR WEDDING BEST. You walked slowly towards Toji then. It was a simple wedding, just you, him, and a handful of close friends. The sun was warm against your skin, the air filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the soft hum of nature. Toji stood at the altar, looking almost out of place in his crisp suit, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched you approach.

He had wanted to wait. If he was being honest, you deserved the best wedding. He had spent nights thinking about it—how you deserved the most beautiful flowers, the most stunning dress, the most exquisite ring. The thought of giving you anything less than perfection had gnawed at him.

But you didn’t care. The grand ceremony, the extravagance—none of it mattered to you. When he voiced his concerns, you had smiled, taking his hand in yours, your voice soft but firm.

“It’s okay, Toji. I don’t need all of that. I don’t want all of that. I just want you. Only you.”

He had looked at you then, his heart clenching at the sincerity in your eyes. “Are you sure?” he had asked, his voice rough with uncertainty. “You deserve so much more.”

But you only shook your head, your smile unwavering. “This is more than enough for me. You’re more than enough for me.”

And so, he waited by the priest, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you walk down the long aisle towards the church altar—and towards him. You wore a simple sundress, the fabric flowing around you as you moved, your hair loose and catching the sunlight. To him, you looked more beautiful than any bride he had ever seen.

As you neared, he could see the happiness radiating from your face, your eyes bright with joy. The closer you got, the more he could feel the tension easing from his shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest.

When you finally reached him, your hand slipping into his, you looked up at him with a grin that made his heart stutter. “I’m here!” you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet assurance.

He could hardly speak, his throat tight with emotion. “You’re really sure about this?” he asked one last time, his voice a hushed whisper meant just for you. “About…me?”

You laughed then, a light, melodious sound that seemed to echo through the quiet church. “Toji, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

And with those words, everything fell into place. The doubts, the worries—they melted away in the warmth of your gaze. Toji felt something deep within him shift, a spark of realization that this was real, that you wanted him—just as he was.

The ceremony passed in a blur, your vows exchanged with soft smiles and whispered promises. When the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, Toji didn’t wait for permission. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his heart pounding against his chest. You giggled, your arms wrapping around his neck as he buried his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

“I’m never letting you go, hm?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The weight of his words hung in the air, a promise and a vow all in one.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you replied softly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m yours, Toji. Always.”

And years later, as he watches you sitting there, holding your son Megumi in your arms, he knows he was right not to let go. You and Megumi—the two of you are the epitome of all the blessings he has in his life. The only blessings he’ll ever want.

He sees you notice him from across the room, your face lighting up with that same smile that first drew him to you. “Good morning to you, babe.” you greet him, your voice warm and welcoming.

You lean down, gently encouraging Megumi, who’s nestled in your arms, to greet his father. “Say good morning to Daddy, Megumi.”

Megumi, still sleepy-eyed, blinks up at him before mumbling little incoherent noises back at his father. Each and every sound ofhis small voice making Toji’s heart swell with affection. He nuszzles closer to you, your little one, which causes you to giggle.

Toji crosses the room, unable to keep the smile from his face as he kneels beside you. “Good morning, sleepy.” he replies, his voice soft as he cups your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead. Then he turns to Megumi, pressing a gentle kiss to his tiny head. “Good morning, little man.”

He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you into his embrace. In this moment, surrounded by the love of his family, Fushiguro Toji feels a deep, contented peace settle over him. He doesn’t need anything else—this is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Toji sits down beside you, his arms still wrapped around you and Megumi, feeling the warmth of his little family pressed close. Megumi squirms slightly in your lap, his tiny hands reaching out for his father, and Toji can’t help but smile as he gently takes the boy into his own arms.

"Hey there, kiddo." Toji murmurs, his voice soft as he cradles Megumi against his chest. The boy blinks up at him with wide eyes, a mixture of curiosity and contentment in his gaze. Toji can see so much of you in those eyes, and it fills him with a quiet joy he never thought he’d experience.

Megumi babbles something unintelligible, his small hands reaching up to pat at Toji’s face. Toji chuckles, feeling the tiny fingers explore the rough stubble on his jaw. "What’s this, huh? Not smooth enough for you?" he teases, his voice filled with warmth.

You laugh softly beside him, watching the two of them with a smile that makes Toji’s heart skip a beat. "He’s just curious, I think." you say, leaning your head against Toji’s shoulder as you watch Megumi continue his investigation of his father’s face.

Toji nods, his eyes never leaving Megumi’s. "Well, he’s got plenty of time to figure out all the mysteries of the world." he replies, his voice low and tender. He shifts slightly, adjusting Megumi in his arms so that he can sit more comfortably. "And I’ll be here to help him every step of the way."

Megumi, as if sensing the love and security in his father’s voice, gives a soft coo and reaches for Toji’s nose, squeezing it with a surprising amount of determination. Toji snorts, the unexpected sensation making him laugh, and Megumi’s face lights up with delight at the sound.

"Oh, so that’s funny, huh?" Toji says, his tone playful as he nuzzles his nose against Megumi’s cheek, earning another giggle from the boy. "You think you’re pretty strong, don’t you?"

Megumi responds with more babbling, his tiny hands patting at Toji’s face and chest with a mix of curiosity and affection. Toji’s heart swells as he feels those little hands, so small and fragile, reaching out to him with such trust. Each touch, each small gesture from his son, feels like a precious gift—something Toji never thought he’d be lucky enough to experience.

As he looks down at Megumi, his heart bursts with an overwhelming surge of love and pride. He sees you in every part of his son, from the brightness of his eyes to the way his lips curl into a dimpled smile. Those eyes, so full of wonder, are the exact tenderness as yours, carrying the same spark that captivated Toji the first time he met you. It’s like seeing a piece of you, the most beautiful piece, in the small boy resting in his arms.

Megumi’s laughter, a sweet, melodic sound, is a mirror of your own. It echoes in Toji’s ears, a reminder of the joy you bring into his life every day. When his son pouts—those soft, pink lips curling down on his chubby cheeks in a way that’s both endearing and familiar—Toji can’t help but think of you. The way you’d pout when you didn’t get your way, or when you were deep in thought—it’s all there in Megumi.

Everything about his son that makes his heart ache with love is because of you. It’s in the way Megumi tilts his head with curiosity, just like you do when you’re pondering something. It’s in the way he smiles, a smile that lights up the room and makes everything feel right in the world. That smile, that pure, innocent smile, is a reflection of the love and light you’ve brought into Toji’s life.

He traces a gentle finger along Megumi’s tiny nose, marveling at how perfect it is, how perfect he truly is. And it’s all because of you, his beloved wife. Toji never imagined he could feel this way—that he could look at someone so small and see the entire world reflected back at him. But here it is, in the form of this little boy who’s as much a part of you as he is of him.

Toji’s voice catches in his throat as he whispers, almost to himself, "He’s got your everything." There’s a reverence in his tone, a deep gratitude that he can hardly put into words. "Your smile, babe. Your laugh… even the way he pouts.Megumi…. he’s all you, babe."

You watch him with a soft, loving gaze, seeing the way he’s looking at Megumi as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. "He’s got you too, you know?" you say gently, your hand resting on Toji’s arm. "The strength in his grip, the determination in his eyes… That’s all you, Toji. You are everything that is him too."

But Toji shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving his son’s face. "He’s you, babe." he insists, his voice filled with awe. "Everything beautiful about him… it’s because of you."

There’s a moment of silence as you both take in the weight of those words, the depth of love that flows between the three of you. You smiled at him, your eyes bright with summer love. Your eyes have never been one to view him any other way. Just one look and Toji thinks that he’s fallen in love again.

One more look and he’ll see that you’ve fallen for him again too. Toji leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s forehead, then another to your temple. He pulls you both closer, holding on as if he never wants to let go.

In this quiet, tender moment, Toji realizes that this is what he’s been searching for all his life. This love, this family—it’s all he’s ever needed. And as he holds you both in his arms, he knows that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

"You’ve got your daddy wrapped around your little finger, don’t you, Megumi?" you tease, watching the two of them with a warmth in your eyes that makes Toji’s chest tighten with love.

"Yeah, well…." Toji says, glancing at you with a soft smile, "Our ’gumi got that from you." He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning his attention back to Megumi. "You’re both pretty good at that."

Megumi, seemingly satisfied with his exploration of Toji’s face. Toji blinks as your son snuggles closer to his father’s chest, his tiny body relaxing into the safety of Toji’s embrace. Toji shifts slightly, leaning back against the couch with Megumi resting comfortably against him. He glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

"Thank you, babe." Toji says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For giving me this. For giving me him."

You reach out, placing your hand over Toji’s on Megumi’s back, your fingers lacing together. "I didn’t give you anything you didn’t deserve, hm?" you reply just as softly, your voice filled with love. "This is our life. Our family. And you always, always, will deserve it."

Toji gazes at you for a long moment, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. "I love you," he says, the words coming out as a gentle sigh. "Both of you."

"We love you too, Toji." you reply, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, a soft and lingering touch that makes Toji’s heart soar. “Always.”

Megumi, still nestled against his father, gives a contented yawn, his small body growing heavy with the onset of sleep. Your little treasure always seems to enjoy sleeping. But Toji understands. He’s a boisterous baby. It’s hard to exist at times, when you’re learning much about life as you go. Toji glances down at his son, a soft smile playing at his lips as he watches the boy drift off, safe and secure in his arms.

"You’re already such a great dad, you know that?" you whisper, your voice filled with certainty as you watch Toji with Megumi.

Toji nods, his gaze never leaving his son’s peaceful face. "I’m just doing my best, always." he replies, his voice thick with emotion. "For him. For both of you."

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing the three of you in its gentle glow, Toji feels a deep sense of contentment settle over him. This is everything he’s ever wanted—this simple, beautiful life with you and Megumi. And he knows, without a doubt, that he will cherish every moment of it for as long as he lives.

━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━

TOJI HAS NEVER BEEN A RELIGIOUS PERSON. But he thinks that if he has something to thank the heavens for — it's you and Megumi. Because Toji thinks that being with you will always be incomparable. No one has ever been able to make him feel at peace with himself the way you do, like your son could do. The quiet moments you shared together, it was everything to him.

Even just a day out in the park, eating out at restaurants on your days off, or simply sitting on a bench at the nearby playground watching Megumi play—are his greatest treasures. They are the moments when the world feels still, when everything seems to align perfectly, and he’s reminded that this is what he’s been searching for all his life.

At times, being with you makes Toji feel like nothing but good could exist in the world. And he’s happy about that. If he could choose, he would do everything and everything to make sure that all his memories were the ones you had built for him.

Toji holds onto these moments, savoring each one as if it were the last. He always prays that it will stay this way for the rest of your lives. That you’ll continue to find joy in the simple things, in each other’s presence, in the quiet, shared spaces of your life together. He carries that little hope with him every day, tucked away like a precious secret.

Every morning, he wakes up early, slipping out of bed with practiced quiet so as not to disturb your sleep. He heads to the kitchen, the routine as comforting as it is necessary. As he prepares breakfast for you, the smell of coffee and fresh bread filling the air, he recites his favorite prayer—a prayer for your happiness, for your health, for the life you’ve built together.

He prays that this happiness will always last. That you will always be together, side by side, through every challenge and every joy. He prays that you’ll grow old together, watching as Megumi grows and flourishes, as your love deepens with each passing year. Toji doesn’t ask for much from the universe, but he asks for this with all his heart, every single day.

As he stirs the pot or flips a pancake, he silently repeats the same words he’s said countless times before. It’s a quiet ritual, one that brings him comfort and strength. He prays that this life you’ve created together will remain untouched by the harshness of the world. That no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together, hand in hand, just as you always have.

And every time, he ends his prayer with a whispered gratitude for the life he now leads, for the love he never thought he’d deserve. He remembers the day he asked if he could take your last name, a symbol of his commitment to you, of his desire to be fully and completely yours. When you agreed, with that beautiful smile of yours, it felt like his prayer had already been answered.

Fushiguro Toji knows he’s been blessed beyond measure. He never thought he’d find peace, not in the life he once led. But here, in the quiet of the morning as he cooks breakfast for the two people who mean everything to him, he feels it—peace, contentment, love.

And every day, he prays that it will stay this way. That you’ll always wake up beside him, that you’ll always be together, that the life you share will continue to grow and thrive. Because there’s nothing in this world, nothing at all, that could ever compare to being with you.

As Toji finishes preparing breakfast, he carries the plates over to the table where you’re already seated, your hands cradling a warm cup of coffee. Megumi is in his high chair, babbling happily as he plays with a small toy. Toji sets the plates down, taking a seat across from you. The morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen, and everything feels peaceful and right.

You smile at him as he sits down, your eyes filled with warmth. “Breakfast looks amazing, as always, babe.” you say, taking a bite of the perfectly cooked eggs. “You spoil us, you know that?”

Toji chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Just making sure my family’s well-fed, y’know?” he replies, his tone light. “Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

As you both start eating, a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the soft sounds of Megumi’s babbling. He sat in his high chair, enjoying tapping the table. He's even excited to eat his dad’s food, small as he is. After a few moments, you look up at Toji, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“So, what do you think we should have for dinner tonight?” you ask casually, your tone teasing. “I’m in the mood for something special.”

Toji raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Special, huh? What are you thinking? Something fancy or just comfort food?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, maybe something with a bit of both. Like a nice roast or maybe pasta. We haven’t had that in a while.”

He nods, considering the options. “Pasta sounds good, babe. I could make that sauce you like, with the garlic and herbs.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion. “Ohhhhh! That sounds perfect!” you say, leaning back in your chair with a contented sigh. “But you know, we could always make it a bit more special.”

Toji gives you a curious look. “Oh? And how would we do that?”

You lean forward, a mischievous glint in your eye. “We could have dinner just the two of us… after Megumi’s asleep. A little date night at home.”

Toji’s expression softens as he catches on to what you’re suggesting. He sends you a tender smile. “That sounds nice, babe.” he says quietly, his voice filled with affection. “Just you and me.”

You nod, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Exactly. We don’t get many chances to have a quiet dinner together these days.”

Toji squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We’ll make it happen, don't worry.” he promises, his eyes locked with yours.

You hold his gaze for a moment before your expression turns a bit more serious. “You know… I’ve been thinking….” you begin, your voice soft.

Toji tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern. “What is it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about us… and our family. About how happy we are with Megumi. And… well, I was wondering if you’ve thought about having more kids.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, and for a moment, he’s quiet, processing your words. He nearly loses his balance. Your eyes go wide as you see him, but he manages to get a good steady composure. He clears his throat, turning to you again.

“More kids?” he repeats, his voice laced with curiosity.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a big decision, and it’s something we’d have to really talk about, but… I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. About how much I love being a mom, and how wonderful it would be to see Megumi with a little brother or sister.”

Toji’s expression softens as he watches you, his heart swelling with love for you. “You really want that?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“I do,” you admit, your eyes shining with emotion. “But only if you do too. I don’t want to push you into anything. I just… I wanted to know how you feel about it.”

Toji is quiet for a moment, his thoughts racing. He never imagined this kind of life for himself—a life filled with love, a life where he could be a father, where he could be loved and cherished. The thought of having more children, of growing your family even more, fills him with a sense of warmth and possibility. Being the father he had always wanted. He thinks that nothing would make his heart anymore fuller. And with you by his side? He thinks he would end up the happiest man alive.

Finally, he squeezes your hand again, his gaze steady as he meets your eyes. “I’d like that too.” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “If that’s what you want, then I’d love to have more kids with you. Nothing would make me happier.”

Your smile widens, relief and happiness flooding through you. “Really?” you ask, your voice soft with hope.

Toji nods, his expression serious and filled with love. “Really. I want to give you everything, and if more kids are part of that, then I’m all in. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy too, babe.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you lean across the table, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. “I love you so much, Toji.” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too,” Toji replies, his voice just as soft. He pulls back slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, pasta for dinner… and maybe a little planning for our future?”

You laugh, the sound filled with joy. “Sounds like the perfect evening.”

Toji smiles back at you, his heart filled with a deep, contented love. He knows that whatever the future holds, as long as he has you by his side, everything will be just fine. As long as you’re together, as long as his little prayer will be answered — everything will be okay. That’s all that matters.

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months ago

Text

Mouthful

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Made with the help from my loveliest @strang3lov3 with a talk about men conking out after cumming and how Hubby Javier still hasn’t gotten his dick sucked. So to all the girlies who want to give your fictional husband a blowjob, this one is for you.

Summary: Javier is starting to come down with the flu but he just simply won’t lie down to have some rest. You have a trick that never fails.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, sickfic, Inés is a menace, Javier is a stubborn man, ❤️ JAVIER HAS A DAD BOD!!!!!!! ❤️, blowjob, deep-throating, mouth-fucking, praise, dirty talk, cum-swallowing,

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52856839

Mouthful

You hear the clink of plates being lifted out of the dishwasher, the sound of Sebastian crying, stuttering sobs as he is bounced, and Inés going on about something that happened in preschool. Javier is barely listening, replying with half-sentences that seem to make his daughter more frustrated with her father not paying attention and eventually leading to her talking louder.

The idea of what will meet you in the kitchen is enough to make you want to flee to the bedroom, enough to make you want to pretend that you haven’t heard them during an extended nap. However, you could never bring yourself to let Javier go through the hell of late afternoons with children alone.

“Look who’s up,” he says with a desperate smile as you enter the room, twisting his whole body to make his crying son spot his mother. As soon as Sebastian’s eyes gaze upon you, his wails die down and they stop completely the moment you take him from Javier’s arms.

“Mom! Guess what happened today at school,” Inés interrupts just as you are about to say something. She speaks loudly, and you automatically reach up to cover Sebastian’s ear that isn’t pressed into your shoulder.

“Inés, indoor voices,” Javier finally manages to say, reaching up to rub his temples, “Shhh…”

“Sorry,” she makes a face, not completely convinced.

“What happened at school?” You ask but instead of looking at her, you find yourself staring at your husband who looks like absolute hell, glassy eyes and exhaustion radiating from him. Inés giggles as she tells a joke that isn’t really a joke, too lost in her story to notice that you aren’t really listening.

Javier places a hand on the kitchen table, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His shirt is crumpled, his eyes have dark circles and you don’t actually think that he has even noticed that he is sniffling every other moment. He sighs deeply, breathing mostly through his mouth as he does it, and then goes back to emptying the dishwasher.

“Are you okay, honey?” You ask him, stopping midway to shush Inés who doesn’t look pleased, “You look under the weather. Are you feeling okay?”

There’s an almost offended nature in Javier’s reply. He doesn’t stop what he is doing, sorting through the cutlery, “What? No, yeah. Estoy bien, mi amor (I’m fine, my love). Just need to get this done.”

“And then what?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“And then I’ll get started on dinner,” he tells you with a tired smile that isn’t very convincing.

“You look like… m i e r d a (shit), and you probably feel it too. I was sick last week,” you spell out the dirty word, using the Spanish word because the English is short enough to make Inés guess what you are saying.

“Mom,” Inés predictably complains.

“I’m fine. I just need 20 minutes where no one comes near me,” he says with exasperation. He finishes up the bottom drawer of the dishwasher and goes to pull out the top one. You find yourself laying a hand on top of his, stopping him in his tracks.

“Javi,” you say softly.

“What?” He grumbles.

“I can finish up here. I’ll cook dinner,” you tread lightly, knowing that he hates being babied by you. Him not pulling his weight is a common fight that the two of you have had, and he probably feels on edge when you ask him not to help out with the kids.

“I can do it,” he snaps but suddenly sneezes, and it ends up making his nose prickle enough to cause his eyes to water.

“Go do something else, laundry maybe. I’ll do this,” you say a little more firmly, strategically sending him to your bedroom to make him spot your bed and have some well-earned rest, “It’s really not a problem, and you know I hate doing laundry anyway.”

“Fine,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

“I love you,” you say in a sing-song voice as he leaves the kitchen, “Go have your 20 minutes.”

Inés looks longingly after her father but you manage to distract her with a snack before she runs after him. You run your free hand over her hair as she eats a peanut butter sandwich, Sebastian cooing happily on your hip as he has been allowed to chew on a banana.

“Do you want to watch cartoons before dinner?” You ask, “Give Mommy some time to get things done in the kitchen, and then I can hear all about school while we eat?”

“Fine,” she parrots her dad, holding up her hands as well and running off to the living room. You follow her, setting Sebastian down in his playpen and turning on the baby monitor. Then you turn on the TV, adjust the volume, and let Inés busy herself by singing along to her favorite theme song.

You finish emptying the dishwasher, cut vegetables, and throw them into the slow cooker with other ingredients, and after you check on both of your kids, you realize there’s some spare time before you have to pick Lucas up from his play date.

You decide to go upstairs to do another round of laundry, but when you cannot find the laundry basket, you go to your bedroom. Javier must have taken it when folding clothes.

“Jesus, why are you not resting? I sent you here so you’d eventually nap,” you groan as you enter the bedroom and see Javier putting his shirts on hangers.

“I told you I’m fine,” he seems even more sick at this point, nose slightly congested and causing him to speak nasally, “I can do this.”

You walk up to him to yank a clothing hanger out of his hands and throw it onto the floor, receiving a glare in response. Javier doesn’t look pleased with your behavior, but you don’t find his stubborn attitude charming either.

“Javier F. Peña,” you tut, “Just go lie down and trust that your wife has everything under control. It’s what a lot of husbands do, you know.”

“Well, wife, I don’t need your permission to do housework,” he tries to push past you but you catch him in a disarming embrace, giggling as he tries bending down to pick you up so he can move you out of his way. You avoid his efforts, catching him by the wrists when he straightens once more, and push him back towards the bed.

“You need rest, husband,” you shove him when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he lets himself fall down into the mattress, bouncing slightly as it connects with his back.

“I don’t need a nap, I’m not a child,” he groans dramatically.

“Then stop acting like one,” you pull the baby monitor out of your pocket and place it on the nightstand. When Javier tries to sit up again, you snap your fingers and point at him, “Nuh-uh, lie down.”

It makes you realize that you need to use alternative methods to get him to obey; he simply won’t do as he has been told, and if anyone is ever in doubt about where Inés gets her stubbornness from, you’ll simply glance over at her father to answer the question.

“What if I treat you to something special?” You ask with a little smirk, moving to the end of the bed so you can proceed to crawl onto him. You sit on his legs, “Think that’ll make you relax?”

You already know the answer to that question. He looks ready to conk out.

“I’m actually fine, I don’t need—“

“I know, Javi,” you reply. Your fingers find his crumpled shirt and you pull it out of his jeans, shoving it up over his stomach so you can access his belt, watching your husband twitch underneath you at the sound of the buckle clinking as you undo it.

He lifts his head to watch as you tug down his jeans and underwear, “Just so you know, I’m not sleeping after this. I have to—“

“I know, Javi,” you repeat, bending down to nuzzle your nose against his soft stomach. His cock lays flaccid against his thigh, but you pull it out from underneath the waistband of his briefs to lay it against his tummy so you can skim your palm up and down the shaft. His soft cock slowly comes alive underneath your touch, and soon you can wrap your fist around him to stroke him till he stands completely erect.

Below you, Javier groans when you press a kiss to his belly, “And I have to get the laundry done.”

“Whatever you say, baby, let me take care of you and I’ll let you do as much laundry as you want,” you hum against his skin, relishing in his warmth and his so-called dad-body - the last year has blessed you with Javier getting a little softer to the touch - that you nuzzle up to at every opportunity you get.

Javier isn’t a fan of himself growing soft around the middle but you savor it every time you get to see that bit of pudge strain against his usual jeans (which he refuses to buy in a bigger size). If you thought he was gorgeous when his muscles were toned and his body looked younger, you had not been prepared for how good he looks now that he is older, rounder, and getting comfortable. His arms are still deliciously strong; an overwhelmingly sexy result of still carrying Inés around everywhere, picking her up from the ground if she has a tantrum at the grocery store.

“God, you’re so sexy,” you pinch his stomach to earn a little noise. Javier says your name in disapproval but you just look up at him with a smile, grabbing more of his pudge before biting into it and kissing it afterward, “Let your wife have her fun.”

Javier is just about to say something - you don’t know whether it is about his body, the lack of a blowjob, or laundry once more - but you know it’s more complaining and so you cut him off by running the flat of your tongue from base to tip of his cock. He tastes like salt. If you had the time, you would not finish until his scent and taste were everywhere on you. In your clothes, etched into your skin, and on your tongue.

“Oh shi—“ he gasps, resting the back of his head on the mattress once more. He breathes deeply in through his mouth, nose still stuffed, and stares at the ceiling as you work your tongue up and down his shaft only to follow the wet trail with your nose.

When you reach his cockhead a third time, you suckle on the very tip to rid him of the pearl of precome that has accumulated at the slit and is threatening to slide down (you want to treat yourself to it before it does). Above you, Javier moans at feeling your mouth, not your tongue, properly for the first time.

“Fucking hell, baby, gotta admit that I didn’t see this coming,” he half-chuckles, half-groans.

“Maybe I just wanted to shut you up for a moment. You are stubborn, you know,” you pull back to talk, look up at him, and nuzzle needily at his cock. He looks down at you but you simply smile, “I looove you for that though, not annoying at all.”

You follow your little snarky remark up with a press of your lips to the underside of his shaft, using a hot open-mouthed kiss to cut off whatever offense he might take from your teasing. He doesn’t even seem to register it after feeling your mouth on himself again.

Then you let saliva gather in your mouth before spitting directly onto the head, using your hand to smear it down his length by stroking him a few times. You lean over him and bring your mouth down over his girth, no teasing or anything, until the thick head hits the back of your mouth.

“Fuuuck, and then up again,” he groans, a strong hand reaching for whatever he can grab of you. His fingers curl around your shoulder, moving inwards until they dig into the back of your neck. Slowly, you drag your lips all the way off of him again.

Javier makes a sound when you pull off but it quickly turns into a whimper as you let more saliva drip down. You smear this too, swirling your sinful tongue around the tip and occasionally licking like were you eating a popsicle on a summer’s day.

You can feel him pulse against your lips, so you show mercy and let him into your mouth again. He is hot and heavy on your tongue and a moaning mess above you, nails starting to dig into your skin.

You start bobbing your head, hand on the base of Javier’s cock to hold his generous size in place. When he bumps against your throat for the first time and thus makes you gag the first time, he lets out a sound that you can never get enough of and it causes your cunt to throb between your legs.

“Who would think that a pretty girl sucks cock like that? Oh, fuck… I love you, just like that—” he talks in a way that makes you think he might not even be aware of what he is saying but is simply letting his mouth run, “Suck that cock, baby. Good fucking girl, married the right one, didn’t I?”

You hum in reply and he growls at the vibrations of your voice. The pride you feel is indescribable, and so you seek out his approval once again by moaning as you taste him. Even if it results in your eyelashes dampening from Javier pushing his hips upwards, you lean further down and force yourself to relax your throat.

He slides into the tight space at the back of your throat and his hand flies to the top of your head. He fists your hair desperately when you gulp around him and make your throat spasm, tugging at your follicles to the point where tears slide down your face. Soon, they also mix with the spit coating his cock.

You swallow around him again. Javier holds your head with both hands now, “Can I - Christ - can I fuck this gorgeous mouth? Por favor (please), baby.”

Even if it is hurting a little, you nod the best you can because Javier’s groan as he starts thrusting his hips upward is worth any ache in your body. Your thighs flutter, your clit pulses.

Both his hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He uses it to move your head as he pleases, makes you bob on his dick until you gag wetly with every other thrust of his hips. Every time he bucks his hips, his thigh muscles flex and your nose buries itself in his happy trail.

“You gonna take it?” He rasps, chest heaving. He is nearly there, muscles in his whole body twitching as he slowly loses control over himself when pleasure is so close. The next thrusts are maddening and you can’t blink any tears away even if you tried, “Fuck, swallow, baby. Take my come.”

You look up at him through your wet lashes and hum a mhm, confirming. Yes, yes, yes, give it to me.

You know he is peaking when his breath stops. He holds it during the last thrusts, finally letting out a loud moan as he finishes and sucks in a deep breath afterward.

His cock spurts in the next moment. You can feel it hit the back of your sore throat, warm and salty, in several pulses and automatically, you swallow hungrily around his girth. The action makes him groan weakly and his hips stutter until he finally needs to let go of you. His arms lie flat along his side.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighs contentedly when you pull off, “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, Daddy,” you tease, and then you treat the sensitive head of his cock to a few innocent kitten-licks, essentially cleaning him up until he softens.

He whimpers when it becomes too much, and so you pull off to kiss him along his stomach. You can hear his breathing changing, turning into something less erratic.

“You okay?” You eventually ask but receive no reply. You look up.

As predicted, Javier snores. You smile to yourself as you push yourself away from him, careful not to wake him up as you pull his briefs and jeans up again, leaving the latter unbuttoned.

“Javier Peña, the most stubborn man on the planet has a weakness,” you whisper and shake your head with a fond smile.

You grab the baby monitor from the nightstand and leave him to sleep, knowing he’ll wake up feeling a lot more sick and, hopefully, a lot more cooperative. You bring him a glass of water and some Tylenol to wake up to, write a note for him about how much you adore him, and that you’ll take care of everything. He needs it.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javi p #javi peña #javi pena #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena one shot #husband!javi #my writing

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domm1etae · 3 months ago

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Morning Embrace

hongjoong x reader

fluff

832 words

where Hongjoong skips practice just to spend a cozy morning with you

You woke up to the sight of your boyfriend’s (undeniably handsome) face, beaming as he watched you slowly blink awake. With a sleepy yawn, you pulled your hand away from where it had rested on his waist and rubbed at your eye.

“Why are you still here?” you mumbled, squinting at Hongjoong. “Don’t you have practice?”

He simply shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m sick.” You playfully swatted his arm.

“You need to go to practice, Joong. It’s important,” you chided, though your tone was softened by the affectionate smile he gave you.

Hongjoong leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting out a content sigh. “You’re important too. And they probably already know I’m skipping.” He pulled back slightly to take in the worried frown on your face. “Don’t worry, jagi. I can afford to miss one day just to be with you.” His wide, sincere eyes made it impossible for you to resist, and you found yourself nodding in agreement.

“Okay, you big baby. What do you want to do today?” you asked, expecting him to suggest something fun.

But Hongjoong just sighed again, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair. “This is perfect,” he murmured.

A comfortable silence settled over you both until your stomach growled loudly, breaking the peace. You squirmed in his embrace, but he only tightened his grip, making you groan in frustration.

“Joong,” you whined, drawing out his name. “I’m hungry, let me go.”

He hummed lazily. “…Nope.” His casual refusal was maddening, and you could hardly believe your ears.

“‘Nope?’ You’re really not going to—” You managed to free one hand, the one not trapped between you and Hongjoong, and shoved at his shoulder with all your might. It was almost pitiful how little he budged, his strong arms still wrapped around you like steel bands. He chuckled sleepily at your futile struggle, planting a kiss on your scrunched-up nose.

“I love you, you know that?” Your resistance began to falter. “You’re the most important thing in my life. I love you, I love you, I love you.” You gave up entirely as he started peppering kisses all over your face, each one replacing your irritation with giggles. His last kiss landed on your lips—brief, since it was still morning and you’d both just woken up. He squeezed you tight once more, the blankets wrapping around you both, and kissed the top of your head. Your smile was unstoppable at this point.

Maybe you could stay hungry just a little bit longer.

“Joong,” you murmured, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “We really should get up. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “I won’t get in trouble. I told the guys I might not make it today. I’m all yours.”

“All mine, huh?” you teased, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Does that mean I get to decide what we do?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his voice full of sincerity. “What do you want to do?”

You pondered for a moment, your gaze drifting toward the window where the morning light was beginning to filter through the curtains. “How about we make breakfast together? I’ll make pancakes, and you can do the bacon.”

Hongjoong’s face lit up at the idea. “Pancakes and bacon? That sounds perfect. But,” he added, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, “only if you promise to let me taste the batter before you cook it.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Fine, but just a little. I know how you are with sweets.”

With a reluctant sigh, Hongjoong finally loosened his grip on you, allowing you to slip out of bed. You stretched, feeling the cool morning air on your skin as you made your way to the kitchen, Hongjoong following closely behind.

As you gathered the ingredients, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was already rummaging through the cabinets, looking for the frying pan, his hair still tousled from sleep. The sight of him, so domestic and comfortable in your shared space, made your heart swell with affection.

“Found it!” he exclaimed triumphantly, holding up the pan like it was a trophy. You chuckled, shaking your head at his enthusiasm.

“Good job, captain,” you teased, grabbing a mixing bowl and starting on the pancake batter. Hongjoong joined you at the counter, watching as you mixed the ingredients together.

“You know,” he began, leaning on the counter with a thoughtful expression, “I think we should do this more often.”

“What, make breakfast?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, just… spend mornings like this. Together. Without rushing off to do a million things.”

You paused, looking up at him. His gaze was warm, filled with a kind of sincerity that made your heart flutter. “I’d like that,” you admitted softly.

Hongjoong smiled, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good, because I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”

You blushed at his words, focusing back on the batter to hide your embarrassment. “You’re too cheesy, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he quipped, earning a playful nudge from you.

With the batter ready and the bacon sizzling on the stove, the two of you moved around the kitchen with an easy rhythm, exchanging jokes and little touches that made the morning feel even more special. It wasn’t long before the smell of pancakes and bacon filled the air, making your stomach growl once again.

“Alright, breakfast is served!” you announced, placing a stack of pancakes on the table as Hongjoong set down the plate of crispy bacon.

The two of you sat down, and as you took the first bite, you couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t just the food that made this moment perfect—it was the company. Hongjoong, with his bright eyes and contagious smile, made everything better.

“This is amazing,” he mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes, making you laugh.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied, your heart full.

As the morning stretched on, the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from future plans to silly anecdotes. There was something about this unhurried time together that felt right, like it was exactly where you both were meant to be.

“I love you,” Hongjoong said suddenly, his tone serious despite the playful glint in his eyes.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. “I love you too,” you whispered back.

And as you sat there, the sunlight warming the room and your hearts full of love, you realized that these were the moments you’d cherish forever.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #kpop #atz #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fanfic #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #ateez fluff #kpop fluff #fluff #x reader #hongjoong x reader

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emmyrosee · 1 year ago

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Don’t read this bc this is more cute aggression with mr sakusa and this is for me so

Also, yes, these are all things I’ve said to my niece in an act of cute aggression 💅🏼

“I could rip your teeth out.”

“That’s nice, baby.”

Kiyoomi is used to you. It’s the only reason, you’re convinced, that he lets you do the things you do, say the feral things you say. Your methods of making him swoon were, arguably, cuter than he’d expect, and he openly tells you that when you used to get self conscious about it.

(“It’s not every day someone wants to squeeze me until I pop.”

“Well, now, it will be. Welcome to your life.”

He smirks, “well alright then.”)

It’s not a lie- he’s never had someone as openly affectionate as you, clinging to his arm at the grocery store, biting his muscles and neck when he’s trying to cook dinner (his teammates ask him constantly what things you two get up to- he doesn’t have the heart to tell them you bit him when he was making some tea) just doing anything and everything to bug him domestically.

Its… comforting, in a bizarre way. To know you find him absolutely intoxicating and addictive. He’s not entirely sure he’d change it.

Even now, when you practically have burrowed into his skin.

“I could kick you; how dare you be so cute?” You pout, laying your head on his shoulder restfully.

He chuckles and continues to scroll through his phone, “it’s strange- I’m so used to Komori being the cute one.”

You roll your eyes and snicker, “you’re so full of it, and you know you are. You’ve always been the cute one, shut the hell up.”

“Handsome, maybe, but never cute-“

In an instant, he’s cute off by your hand immediately darting towards his face. Your fingers fly up at his mouth, trying to grip his teeth. It’s something you don’t do often because he can’t stand it, but it seems like today, you’re on a mission to be as close to him as possible.

“Ah!” He snaps, turning his head away. You retract your hand as he gives you a scolding look. Immediately, you feel bad that the impulsive thoughts won, and you made him so mad. “We talked about that. Don’t do that.”

“But-“

“No. Do. Not. Grab at my teeth.”

You pout softly at the reprimand in his tone, mumbling a soft ‘I’m sorry’ as you settle back down, your head dipping to hide in the crook of his neck. He lets out a sigh and plops his phone on the side table and shuffle a bit.

“You know I like your cute aggressions…. Except that one. Of all the things you do, that’s the one I can’t tolerate babe, you know that.”

“You’re just so pretty. I can’t help it.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” He says, absolutely teasing you and you giggle as you hide your face in his neck. “Is biting me not good enough? Is sniffing me until you can’t breathe not good enough now?” He interrupts his own preach by pecking kisses all over your cheek, holding you tighter as you start to squirm away. “Is coming into my shower not good enough now? Is dropping by extra desserts at practice not good enough? Is sucking hickeys on my cheeks not good enough?”)

You move your head away from his neck to giggle more and try to make an attempt away from his kisses, but this gives him real estate, and he decides to take it. He starts to give you a taste of your own medicine, biting at your cheek and ear and neck and fingers now pinching up your sides and ribs.

“Omi!”

“Is crawling into my lap while I’m on a zoom call not good enough? Is stealing my pillows from under my head when you’re sleeping not good enough? Is taking my clothes when you’re sick not good enough? Is picking. My nose. When I’m mad. NOT GOOD ENOUGH?”

Your struggles to get away from him are in vain, he’s got you gathered in his big arms, your head tossed back and feet kicking for a meek attempt at freedom. He peppers bites and kisses continuously on your neck, smiling against your skin as you scream and whine into the air.

“Are all these things so boring now and you have to grab my literal teeth?”

“Yes!” You titter, and while it does make him stop in surprise, he’s quick to smack the facade back on, pulling his head back to glare at you. You flash him some puppy eyes while you reach up to card the curls from his face, “I’m just obsessed with you… always need more ways to get under your skin.” You laugh as he sighs and leans his forehead against yours, clearly not caring half as much as he says, and taking gentle breaths against you. “I love bugging you.”

“Well, how could you not when you do such a good job?”

“I know right?” Once again, he lifts his head up to glare playfully at you, snickering as you continue to flash him the same innocent beam.

“Can you promise me you won’t grab my teeth anymore?” He asks, shifting a hand to lace with yours; he brings the knuckles of your hand up to kiss them, a way to show his affection and also, sort of, maybe, convince you to promise.

You sigh softly and let him kiss over your fingers, letting the comfortable silence between you both relish. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He groans in faux agony, face crashing down to bury in your chest, and you cackle while he does, your arms tossing around his shoulders to keep him close.

“I hate you,” he grumbles.

“No you don’t. You eat this shit up and you know it.”

He sends a dirty look at you between his lashes before sighing and laying his head back down. “Don’t expose me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

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hp-hcs · 1 year ago

Note

violent stalker mattheo riddle.... each guy and girl readers ever spoken to? damn wdym they showed up beaten up the next day and they dont even know who did it ????

i feel like he'd also get violent with reader and ykw .... im so insane id let him beat me bloody .

"i'm doing this because you're not listening to me, sweetheart. how else am i supposed to show you that trying to leave me is what you shouldn't do?"

hey uh, future requesters: giving me a line of dialogue or smth to build around means i’ll finish your request WAY faster. tysm anon 😭

requests open

prometheus — yandere! insane! stalker! mattheo riddle x gn! reader

wow! there’s a fuck ton of really fucking dark violence, murder, torture, manipulation, abduction, and horrific domestic abuse in this! please be careful if you choose to read this!

1.5k words!

i jokingly took a sociopathy test with a couple of friends earlier today and i scored like really high so uh dunno how to feel about that

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Am I…am I in trouble or something, Professor…?”

Professor McGonagall’s lips thinned and she looked at you over the rim of her glasses. She folded her hands together neatly where they rested on her desk before speaking. “Not for now, no. Relax a bit, dear. The law states that you’re innocent until proven guilty.”

“That’s not- that doesn’t really make me less nervous.”

The professor opened her mouth to speak again when a chime alerted her to an incoming floo call.

With a wave of her wand, the flames flared green and a genial-looking man stepped out of the fireplace. He brushed soot off of his robes and grinned brightly as soon as he caught sight of the professor.

“Minerva! Lovely to see you again. I’m afraid Quincy isn’t going to make it. Corbett is sick, poor thing, so he’s staying home with him today,” the man gushed, evidently quite close with the professor.

“Oh, send them both my well wishes, Hez, dear. Anyway, this is the student you asked to see, Y/n L/n,” she motioned towards you.

The man gave you a cheery grin—far too cheerful for this early in the morning—and held out his hand for you to shake. “A pleasure to meet you, Mx. L/n. I’m Auror Hezekiah Ackerly. I’d just like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright?”

You dubiously shook his outstretched hand, a bit put off by his bright grin that never seemed to dim. “Sure.”

“Wonderful!” the Auror pulled the second office guest chair closer and sat down across from you. “Let’s get the easy questions out of the way. Do you have many friends? Or maybe a small, close-knit group of people you regularly hang out with?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The fuck kind of question was this?

“Uh, I guess a close-knit group?”

Auror Ackerly summoned a notebook and quill, writing quickly. “Who belongs to this group?”

Seriously, this felt more like being at a psychiatrist’s office than being questioned by a government official.

“Er, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger? And sometimes Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood?”

Seriously, what was going on?

“And do you have any…romantic relationships? Any troubles or issues there?”

Your eyes narrow. “What’re you playing at?”

“Cormac McLaggen was found dead in the Forbidden Forest this morning,” Professor McGonagall cut to the chase, interrupting Auror Ackerly. “You were the last known person to have spoken to him, and several of your peers attest that they heard an argument break out between the two of you last night after dinner.”

Your eyebrows shot up and your jaw dropped. “Dead? Wh- how?”

“That’s what we at the Ministry would like to know,” Auror Ackerly interjected smoothly. “You’re not in trouble, Mx. L/n, but I am here to escort you to the Ministry for questioning.”

Your jaw dropped.

They thought you did this?

~~~

You sat at a table, alone in some room deep inside the Ministry building.

You huffed, folding yet another paper crane from the stack of sticky notes Ackerly had oh-so-thoughtfully left for you after your interrogation.

You set the finished bird on the table, the small pile of origami cranes you’ve made while waiting slowly getting larger.

Peeling off another sticky note, you started folding another when a nice-looking man in well-pressed robes entered the barren room and stopped in front of your table. He looked down at you with mild bafflement.

“L/n, I presume?”

“That’d be me,” you mumbled, adding your newest crane to the pile.

The man smiled gently before waving a hand over your paper birds and enchanting them to fly.

You tried to hide your awe as you look up at the cranes that floated and soared around the room.

The man smiled at your reaction. “It’s quite nice to finally meet you, Mx. L/n. You’ve been the topic of many a discussion today.”

“I’d imagine so, yes,” you said dryly. “Not many teenagers accused of murder coming through the department, huh?”

He grinned. “Not really, no.”

The man pulled out the other chair at the table, sitting down across from you and rifling through the thick manila folder he held.

“Are you here to interrogate me some more?” You asked suspiciously. “Ask Ackerly, man. I already told him everything I know.”

He laughed. “No, I’m not here to interrogate you. I’m your lawyer, Mx. L/n.”

You blink. “I don’t have a lawyer. My family can’t afford that.”

“You always have the right to an attorney, Mx. L/n,” he said kindly as he held out his hand to you. “Octavian Foxglove, Esquire.”

“Y/n L/n, but you already knew that,” you greet, shaking his hand.

He smiled again.

He was a very smiley man.

He laid out the manila folder and turned it around on the table so that you would be able to see it.

The first paper on top was a copy of your school records, with a bright red PRIMARY SUSPECT stamped over the top of your picture.

You grimaced.

Your lawyer nodded sympathetically. “There’s a photo underneath that page, by the way. Supposedly the last photo we have of McLaggen still alive and, uh…it’s not looking great for you, in all honesty.”

You moved your school records page aside, finding a standard moving photograph paperclipped to the inside of the file.

It showed, quite clearly, you speaking with Cormac McLaggen in a hallway. Picture-Cormac angrily threw his arms up in the air and silently yelled at picture-you, while your body language in the photo loudly screamed ‘furious & upset’.

He was right. It wasn’t a great look.

“And there’s only one thing I need you to- oh, where is it?” He dug through the inside pockets of his robes, procuring a pen. “Aha! The next page has a simple contract. I just need a signature stating that you either accept me as your public defender, or would like to request someone else from the Ministry to handle your case.”

You nod, flipping the page to the contract he indicated. Mr. Foxglove smiled again and held the pen out to you.

As soon as your fingers made contact with the pen, you vanished.

~~~

You stumbled blindly, almost falling to the floor before a hand caught your elbow and steadied you.

“Easy, careful.”

You whirled around, surprised to see a different man in Mr. Foxglove’s clothes. He held his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

“Woah- slow down, kid. You’re fine.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m- was your lawyer,” he shrugged and smiled. “Augustus Rookwood, at your service.”

It dawned on you. “It was a portkey,” you breathed. “The pen. It was a portkey, wasn’t it?”

“Clever kid,” he sounded impressed. “Now c’mon. The boss wants to see you.”

You followed the man without complaint; half out of curiosity, half out of the knowledge that Augustus Rookwood was an Azkaban escapee charged with at least forty counts of first degree murder.

Pretty simple choice.

It looked like you were in a wealthy aristocrat’s house. Er, mansion, more accurately. The hallway you were walking down was old and stuffy and dusty, and the overall aura of Dark magic that permeated the very air of the house sent shivers down your spine.

Rookwood led you down a flight of rickety stairs to the first floor, and then down a narrow hallway and into a study, where he left you without another word.

The study itself was old. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust except for the pristine and polished bureau right in the center.

(Obviously, ‘the boss’ was sitting at this desk.)

((Villains tend to be predictable like that.))

However, you were surprised to see that ‘the boss’ was-

“Riddle?”

He looked up at the sound of your voice, a wide grin spreading across his face as he hurriedly got up from his desk.

“Y/n, darling, hello!” He gushed, practically skipping over towards you before pulling you into a very uncomfortable hug. “Sweetheart- oh, I’m so glad you’ve made it here safely! Rookwood really is my only competent assistant; I must be sure to give him a raise.”

You froze up at the unexpected hug, your arms remaining stiffly by your sides. He let go after a moment, but remained just a bit too close for comfort.

“Hopefully the Ministry didn’t give you too hard of a time,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a guilty grin. “I promise Ackerly’s a good man. When he’s, y’know, in control of his own body.”

Your eyes widen and you take a step back. “What?”

“Just a little Imperius, darling, no worries. Did you like your gift?”

You blinked, thrown off by his rapid changes in subjects. “Uh- gift?”

He smiled proudly. “McLaggen? He won’t bother you anymore, see?”

All the color drained from your face.

“You killed Cormac?”

He nods, grinning. “Uh-huh. I heard what McLaggen said to you last night in the hall, and I don’t like when other people look at what’s mine.”

“Yours?” You repeat, your lip curling in disgust. “You’d better not be referring to me.”

Mattheo paused, looking at you in confusion. “What else would I be talking about?”

You scoff in shock, shaking your head. “Yeah, nope, I’m out.”

You turned around without further preamble, marching out of the room and towards the front door that you’d passed earlier. Mattheo laughed and followed you out of the study at a leisurely pace, seemingly unworried.

“Where are you going to go, darling? As far as the general public is concerned, you’re on the run after brutally murdering a classmate. You’re Wanted with a capital W, sweetheart.”

“I’ll figure it out,” you snarled, storming towards the front door.

“Y/n…” He warned, drawing his wand and pointing it at you. “Get back here. Now.”

“Fuck off.” You spat over your shoulder, not sparing him another glance.

That was clearly not the thing to say. As if in slow motion, you heard a dreaded word fall from his lips.

“Crucio!”

You were struck with pain that was so overwhelming, so blinding, so agonizing, that you were sure you were going to die.

You were only half aware that you’d fallen to the floor at some point as wave after wave of unbearable pain crashed over you. You could feel your bones creaking and grinding together, your skin splitting apart only to knit itself back together just to be torn apart again, like you were some fucked up wixen version of fucking Prometheus.

You were only vaguely aware that you were speaking, pleading. Pleading not for the Unforgivable to be lifted, but for him to just end it, end you, entirely.

“K-kill me! Kill m-me…please!” You begged, blood trailing down from the corner of your mouth and smeared across your chin. You must’ve bit your tongue hard for it to bleed like that, and the sting from that wound while you speak is just too overwhelming when combined with the pain from the Cruciatus Curse.

Then all at once, it stops.

You gasp for air, your entire body trembling and numb as you lay sprawled across the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

Mattheo kneeled down by your side and cupped your face in his hands with a kind of tender gentleness that felt deeply wrong coming from him.

“See, I’m doing this because you’re not listening to me, sweetheart. How else am I supposed to show you that trying to leave me is what you shouldn’t do?” He cooed softly, gently wiping the blood from your chin with the sleeve of his shirt.

You flinched back at his touch. Your body—still wracked with uncontrollable quivers and trembles—tried in vain to crawl away from him.

“Oh no, honey- hey, honey- I promise it’s all over, okay? You were so so good for me. But you see now that you’ve got to stay with me, right?”

Your jaw quivered and your still-stinging tongue felt thick in your mouth, yet you managed to spit vicious hatred towards him.

“G-go to hell.”

A flurry of emotions crossed his face: surprise, anger, guilt, and disappointment; all of which were topped by the underlying aura of pure sadistic glee that exuded from him.

“Oh? Do you need another lesson or two before you learn?” He sighed and shook his head patronizingly. “Very well then, darling. Crucio!”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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crguang · 5 months ago

Text

meet me in the afterglow

The Astral Express landed on your sick planet and removed the cancer of your world. Even though Himeko belongs with stars as bright as she shines while your place is on steady ground, you would suffer the distance if it meant knowing her.

long distance relationship, hurt/comfort, 7k words.

A/N: this really beat my ass. himeko pov practice, i wanted a more emotional piece so she feels a bit ooc to me

The video call connects and your slightly obscured face is viewed at a low angle. You look down at the screen, smiling with your teeth when you see her, and Himeko easily mirrors your happiness. Her cheek rests in the palm of her hand, elbow on the desk’s surface as she gazes at you through the phone.

“Hiii,” you wave at her cheerfully. Himeko hears the sound of a door closing in the background and with a couple of steps into your apartment, the lights flicker open, illuminating your bright expression born from the mere sight of her. The weariness of her eventful day washes away faced with the striking love you hold for her and she can’t help a short giggle from falling past her lips at your greeting. The musical sound lights up the color in your eyes.

“Hi. Did you just get home?”

You hum in agreement, your keys rattling in your hands. “Today was so long. I’m happy you called.”

You step out of your shoes and walk around your apartment, only looking up from the screen to open your bedroom door. Himeko watches you prop the device on top of your desk and wander around the room while you discard your jacket. A full-length mirror stands across from the desk, showing your figure even when you’re not in the camera frame.

“Me too, we haven’t talked in a while,” Himeko says as you rummage through your drawers. “How have you been?”

“Yeah, we’ve both been really busy,” you find a clean shirt and begin pulling the one you’re wearing over your head. “Oh!”

You excitedly walk back in front of the phone, shirt hanging around your neck and exposing your torso. You seem too thrilled to care, but Himeko’s gaze unashamedly lowers to your chest until you clap your hands once and speak again.

“I got the promotion yesterday! I wanted to tell you. I’d say it was worth being worked to the bone this last month.”

“You did?!” She beams. “I knew you would, no one worked as hard as you have for this. I’m so proud of you.”

The delight on your face warms her from head to toe. It’s a wonder how light you make her despite being multiple warp jumps away, you shine through the distance and effortlessly reach the depths of her chest, filling her with hot air until she’s drifting among the stars she knows so well, weightless. You take the work you do seriously, so she does as well. Your victories are hers, and it feels as though she’s gone through them all with you even though she’s not often physically present.

“Thank you. How are you? Is the Express parked somewhere?”

“I’m doing good. We’re on the way to Herta’s space station right now for a few minor repairs and to stock up on supplies. We should be there for a couple of days.”

You change into a graphic t-shirt and thin pyjama pants, nodding along to her words. You pick the phone back up and bring it closer to your face. A small, fleeting crease appears between your brows as you truly take her in and notice her lack of sleeping clothes.

“Are you still working?”

Himeko hums lightly, a finger absentmindedly tracing patterns on the desk. “I need to finish up a couple of things.”

You take her with you to the bathroom, and the brighter light makes the concerned down curve of your mouth apparent. “Don’t sleep too late.”

You miss her fond smile. “I won’t.”

You set her up near the sink so you can start brushing your teeth. It’s nice to be privy to these mundane moments, these glimpses of domesticity, even if Himeko wishes she could witness them in person. Her smile twitches at the corners at the cursory thought, but it zooms past when your eyes light up with an idea and you rush to spit the toothpaste into the sink to talk properly. Your expressiveness is a treasure she deeply cherishes.

“I forgot to tell you,” you quickly rinse your mouth and wipe it with the back of your hand, “I need your advice on something. I was invited to this formal-ish dinner this week and I’m not sure what to wear.”

“What kind of event is it?”

You pick up the phone and make your way back into the bedroom. “An acquaintance’s birthday dinner. It’ll be a good way to make some connections, though, hence my hesitation.”

Upon Humeko’s request, you adjust the screen on your desk to show her the outfits you visualized for the event. You’re too engrossed in your task to feel shy as you change in front of the camera and the endearment of it all almost overshadows the desire bubbling in Himeko’s lowered gaze. She finds her fingertips aching to trail down your bare biceps and forearms, across the tender skin of your wrists and over the lines of your palms; a homogeneous mix of gentle yearning and lingering melancholy simmers inside her chest. The distance between you suddenly feels as immense as it is because no matter what either of you does right now, she cannot touch you. It’s an imposing part of her, touch. Tangling her fingers in your hair, tracing the faint marks of your hips and thighs, pressing reverent kisses on the apple of your cheeks or behind your ears— they are confessions she slowly realizes that she can’t go without. She will utter warm truths meant solely for you, and even shout them if you wish, but her hands are growing restless. She does everything with her hands, she tinkers and soothes and creates, but she cannot touch you, not as often as she craves to. The feeling isn’t unfamiliar, she simply tells herself that she misses you particularly hard on this day and counts the next ones until you reunite. Tonight… perhaps it’s the month-long absence with only scattered messages exchanged between you or the fact that you’re trying on clothes for yet another event she won’t get to experience with you, but the longing curled around her rib cage tingles uncomfortably.

You turn to face the camera, showing off one of your outfits, and Himeko’s smile holds a sad tint that you don’t notice straight away. It’s hidden behind genuine affection, but she unknowingly becomes slower to answer and you send her a quizzical look.

“Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to the phone to see her better.

“Of course.” Himeko blinks, not expecting the question, and answers reflexively. You don’t seem convinced, so she adds, “This outfit is my favorite, you look gorgeous in it. You should put your hair up to go with it.”

You nod slowly, eyes flickering over her features in search of what lurks beneath her easy demeanor. When she doesn’t expand on the matter, you let it go. You start taking off the outfit to change back into your pyjamas. It’s briefly quiet for a moment and in usual circumstances the silence would be comfortable but there’s a persistent weight on Himeko’s chest that she can’t part with, it manages to cloud your sunny smiles and bright eyes enough for a soft sigh to escape her. She’s full of affection as you settle into bed with your phone in your hands and look at her with half your face squished into your pillow, it is exactly what this discouragement is born from and she can’t elude it. She feels a touch of guilt come into the mix for having something so beautiful bred such negative emotions.

Your thumb hovers over her image on the screen as you speak. “If you’re not too busy… I have this weekend off. We could see each other?”

Himeko quickly runs through the tasks she has to complete this week. If she moves some things around and delegates others well, she should be able to free up at least an entire day to visit you— and she will because just the thought of having you close has her floating a few inches from the ground.

“I can do Saturday,” she replies. The promise of seeing you soon almost melts away every other thought.

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

Her pout is playful but her question is not. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just miss you.”

Right. Though you don’t often complain, she’s reminded that the distance also weighs on you sometimes. Guilt grows steadily in the dark confines of her guts like a slow-acting cancer. Himeko knows it’s not anyone’s fault that she’s a Nameless fated to travel among the stars while you’re rooted to your world, helping its recovery from a Stellaron disaster. You’re needed where you are, she’s walking the path of the trailblaze, but she can’t help feeling awful at the dismissive way you imply that it’s been some time since you last saw each other in person. She bears the responsibility of your happiness and a sense of failure overcomes her whenever it’s clear that her absence saddens you. It’s easier to blame herself when she’s the one who never stays too long in one place.

“…I miss you too, you know.”

“I know,” you offer her a soft smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. Himeko does her best to return it. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

—

Himeko doesn’t show up on Saturday. You’ve left her multiple messages, called her phone throughout the day, growing increasingly worried every time you reached her voicemail, and waited in your apartment for hours in case she would appear on your doorstep. You stand in front of the kitchen counter where two cold servings of her favorite dish lay and stare at the phone screen, opened on your private texts, like the familiar three dots indicating that she’s online will suddenly pop up. You tell yourself that she likely got caught up in something important and ignore the mocking voice that asks, “Are you not important, too?” You feel the food under your nose is laughing at you, its carefully plated vegetables reminding you of your previous excitement and exacerbating your current disappointment, so you put it in a container and throw it in the fridge. You’re not hungry anymore. It’s not the first time your plans have fallen through but Himeko usually warns you that she can’t make it or calls you with soft apologies on her lips. Because of your schedule, you’ve had to cancel a couple of times too, these things happen and no one’s to blame for them. That thought doesn’t dissolve the dejection burning your throat.

It’s late in the evening, and you settle on the couch with a book you’ve been meaning to read for weeks now but have been lacking the free time to do so. Two chapters in and the words stop making sense; they dance on the page and merge to form completely different sentences as your mind wanders to what lies beyond your skies— the grandiosity of the Astral Express. You visited it a few times, back when its crew parked on your planet and helped seal the Stellaron that was eating at your world. You still remember its large panoramic windows and the boundless stars beyond them, its long hallways and cozy parlor. Traveling with such an extraordinary companion makes each day worth remembering. That train is her oldest friend, she saved it from erosion and has taken great care of it since, it’s witnessed her growth as a Trailblazer and showed her sights you can’t picture. You understand, a little because Himeko introduced you to the constellations with a hand on your forearm and you smell coffee beans whenever you look up at them from your balcony.

You mark your page and put down the book. There’s no point in attempting to read more tonight, your head is full of those first days spent learning Himeko; her talent for diplomacy, a strength that could shake the seas and a regard for life just as unwavering. She sometimes says your meeting was meticulously etched into the firmament. You didn’t care much for the truth behind fate before her, she single-handedly turned you into a believer like she was an angel apparition bringing news from above. You’d argue being loved by her is akin to a religious experience, her palms soften your woes and her sincere words touch parts of you that you’ve never known until she spoke. You wish to revere her without constraints.

You’re so lost in memories that the sudden melody of your ringtone startles you. You reach for the phone on the coffee table. You stare at the contact, hesitant, before erasing all wistfulness from your features and accepting the video call.

Himeko waits for the call to connect with a thundering heart and guilt pooling in her stomach. She dreads this so much, dreads seeing the frown on your lips knowing she’s the cause of it, that she’s put back talking to you for two hours now. She owes you an explanation, of course, and she doesn’t seek your forgiveness for her lack of communication. Her apprehension comes from the disappointment she’s sure you’re feeling, and a familiar sense of failure washes over her at the thought of letting you down again.

Your pouty face appears on the screen and Himeko can’t even force a shaky smile.

“I’m so sorry,” the words are quick to tumble from her lips like they’ve been uncomfortably sitting in the back of her throat for days. “I should’ve called. The Express needed some last-minute repairs and I’m the only one— I’m sorry.”

It’s the truth, but her voice is small to her ears because it sounds like she’s making excuses when she has none. She should have taken a few minutes to explain the situation to you instead of leaving you hanging for hours after assuring you that she’d be there this weekend. Getting lost in her work is easy and happens more often than not but she has a foreboding feeling that she truly messed up this time around, something curls around her throat and squeezes, forcing unsteady breaths out of her.

“It’s… It’s fine, Hime. Is everything okay?”

Your easy understanding is not a facade and it worsens her guilt, she could swim in it and not touch the bottom. She sees the hurt you try to push away for her sake, it’s in the depths of your eyes and the slight curve of your mouth. A recurring thought lingers in her mind; she doesn’t deserve you.

Himeko nods once, futilely swallowing to loosen her throat. “Everything’s alright, I had to sort out some complications with the suspension components and the HVAC systems. I didn’t forget about you, I just… got caught up in other things. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s a bit of a bummer, I made your favorite,” you sigh playfully, hoping to lighten the mood, “I’ll just have to eat it all.”

Your teasing has the opposite effect. Her heart drops knowing you must have been cooking for a couple hours in anticipation of her visit. The scroll of missed opportunities she keeps locked in a corner of her mind grows longer and the longing in her chest expands to her fingertips.

“You… made my favorite dish? I didn’t deserve that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wanted to surprise you.”

Himeko rubs at her eye with a weary sigh in an attempt to partially conceal her mournful expression before she has the chance to shift it into something less melancholic. A taunting voice, her voice, whispers in her ear that your efforts are wasted on her, that they’ll forever be wasted on her because she can never be away from the Express for too long. You’re at home, staring at the heavens, waiting for her to land and she breathes easier among the stars. You deserve to live your life without your head constantly in the clouds. She’s holding you back, the voice rings inside her head like multiple murmurs on top of each other, she’s stringing you along despite the weight of circumstance dragging you both down.

“Hey,” you say softly, noticing the far-away look in her eyes and the quiver in her brow. “We can set up another time to meet. When are you free?”

She wishes she had a definite answer. Pom-Pom is currently reworking their timetable to ensure the Astral Express doesn’t run out of fuel and in the meantime, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be able to see you. Still, she can’t bring herself to tell you the harsh news so she softens the blow to give you some hope.

“I’m not sure… Hopefully next weekend?”

You try hard to keep your face from falling, she can tell, your expressiveness is one of the things she adores most about you. Tonight, it only hurts.

“I’m out of town, it’s my parents’ anniversary, remember?”

“Right.”

The following pause in the conversation is tense with the unsaid, what you both know to be true yet refuse to vocalize; it’s getting harder to make time for each other due to the drastically different, busy lives you’re living. The voice in her head gets louder. It turns into an insistent ruckus fiercely protective of you meant to preserve your wellness even at the cost of her heartbreak. You deserve someone who will take the time to celebrate your accomplishments, who will share the most intimate part of your life with you, and she… Himeko can’t simultaneously be that person and a Nameless. She wants to be there, her body yearns for your proximity to confess all the things she can’t find the words for, but she would have to sacrifice a piece of her identity for that consistency, something she can’t bring herself to do. Her love for you shouldn’t hurt this much. It’s unfair, how her affection is the source of your pain. How much longer can she lie to herself and pretend that having you this way is better than not having you at all? How much longer can she stand the defeat in your eyes?

“...I miss you.” It’s a pitiful sound, helpless and small. She wills herself to be strong against the sad smile you respond with.

“I miss you too. But we’re both where we want to be, right? You get to blaze a trail every day and I make a difference here.” You speak the truth, and yet it doesn’t soothe the tightness of her throat.

“It doesn’t make it easier, does it?”

“...No. It doesn’t.”

Himeko knows what she has to do. Your smile falters, the following silence weighs on her bones, and she comes to a conclusion long overdue. A quiver runs through her fingers and she has to keep them out of the frame so you can’t see her growing distress. She takes a slow breath, blinks her unshed tears away and forces the words out of her mouth.

“What if… What if we—”

“Don’t say that,’ you interrupt her readily, firmly, furrowed brows worsening her guilt.

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t take it back.”

She knows that, too. Even so, it was always going to end like this. Himeko feels like she’s falling apart, flayed layer by layer until she sits painstakingly raw in front of you. A screen and millions of miles separate you from her, burning her desires to hold you tight and bask in your comfort to ashes. She is reduced to heartbreak and guilt and yearning, she is an amalgamation of emotions impossible to contain in a human body; her hands shake, her next exhale is wobbly but she can’t bear to look away from you and your sorrow. It’s her fault, it was her pursuit of you that doomed you to where you are now. She was so intrigued by your determination and selflessness, your aching need to create a better life for you and everyone around you despite the corruption of the Stellaron plaguing your planet. Your attention was intoxicating and gave her the same feeling as watching the stars breeze past from one of the Express’ panoramic windows. It hurts now, but she could never regret knowing you.

“What if it’s the right thing to do?” Himeko asks weakly. Her eyes flicker all over your face as if etching the image of you into her mind.

“How can this feel right?”

“...Because I love you.”

She loves you and she can’t withstand being the cause of your pain. She can’t string you along knowing she can never give you the companionship you’re worthy of. She can’t keep holding you back from fully enjoying the life you’ve built for yourself. What she can do is spare you months of disappointment.

You swallow thickly. “And ending things will make it better?”

“I don’t know, but it’s better than… than this.”

She’s not expressing herself properly, her emotions cloud her mind and she finds it difficult to choose the right words to convince you that this is the best decision for both of you.

“How?”

“Because it’ll hurt less.”

Her eyes shut briefly at your stunned silence and her head tilts away from the screen so you can't see how much this is affecting her.

“It’ll hurt less than being with me, you mean.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t reply. She wants to say she’s doing this for you, to save you the agony of waiting around for her, but she doesn’t trust her voice to stay steady. Her fingers grip the edge of her desk to keep her grounded. She hears a shuddering breath coming from the other line.

“Are you breaking up with me, Himeko?”

Your words announce the point of no return. If she doesn’t do this now, she’ll never find the strength to bring it up again.

She looks at you, and her reply comes out a choked whisper, “Yes.”

The train’s engine is loud in her ears to fill in the quiet between you. You nod absentmindedly, slowly, as you compute her answer. Your eyes don’t settle on the device in your hand, avoiding her mournful gaze, and the camera shakes a little when you straighten up on the couch. The air is heavy around her, it seems to weigh on her like gravity, and her pulse drums in her head like a haunting tune. Your lips purse to control the quiver in them.

“...I’m sorry,” she says uselessly.

“I have to… I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you don’t want to look at her a moment more and despite how much that hurts, she can’t find it in herself to blame you. She can’t stand herself either. “Um… Goodnight.”

The call ends before she has a chance to speak. Himeko is left staring at the dark screen, tears blurring her vision at the edges, and without the need to appear fine in front of you, she crumbles. A quiet, choked sound escapes her and she slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle the pitiful sobs that start racking through her body. She spends a lifetime hunched over her desk, forehead resting on its cold surface, crying over the loss of you. Memories of moments shared with you— your sunny smiles and melodious laughter, your sleepy voice over the phone, her adoring palms on your full cheeks— every wishful happy ending that she wanted for you torments her mind. She’s drowning in an ocean of her own making. Regret accompanies her guilt and self-loathing, and she starts telling herself that perhaps she should have fought harder to keep you. She should have sacrificed more, she should have stopped herself from uttering words she can’t erase, she should have…

A week passes so slowly that it feels like she’s been in this state for a decade. The Astral Express crew have all noticed the changes in Himeko’s mood, her prolonged quiet and red-rimmed eyes, but they’re used to her comfort and don’t know how to ease her mind. They try, clumsily, and she appreciates their efforts even if they amount to nothing. She would turn to you for these sorts of things, now she has no one to tell about how she lost you. Her thoughts circle back to you, she wonders what you’re doing when she wakes up, if you’re mourning her like she is you, if your softness has been replaced by hatred or worse— indifference. She goes through the motions because she has to, as the navigator of the Express she can’t afford a week of feeling sorry for herself when so many things require maintenance regularly. All of it is second nature. Her mind wanders to the tremble of your lips while she goes through her checklist. She blinks tears away as she discusses the conductor’s timetable with them. At night, she stares at her phone and fights the urge to press the call button under your contact name.

Himeko finds herself in the Express parlor on a night she should have gone to bed early. The universe beyond its big windows no longer offers the same comfort it used to and she sits on one of the large couches, huddled in on herself. A half-empty bottle of wine stands on the floor next to her frame. The warmth in her chest and the fog of mind dull her heartbreak to a tolerable ache, tears are drying on her flushed cheeks and her sniffles are fewer than a half hour earlier. The bright phone screen light hurts her tired eyes but she can’t look away from the last video you sent her of you showing your look before leaving the house for that event you once mentioned to her. In her state, she can’t remember the details. Her stare is on the little twirl you make, the white smile you direct at the camera and the movement of your lips as you ramble about your hopes for the night. The clip plays over and over, it has been in a loop since she started drinking. The train car is quiet, there’s only your excitement livening up the place. She stops hearing most of your words at one point, lost in your features and the way you address her so affectionately.

The desire to call you simmers inside of her like the alcohol she ingested and makes her fingertips twitch. You’re speaking to her in the video, but it’s not enough. It’s not truly you, just a captured moment of a time she hadn’t broken your heart. She wants to hear the real you, to ease the worry that you hate her now even if she can’t fault you for it. Her muddled mind replays the same thought like an annoying chorus and she sluggishly picks up the bottle on the ground to bring it to her lips. All she feels is a little warmer and a little more numb. She wants you. She wants your arms around her, your murmurs close to her ear. The last time she’s held you dates to around two months ago, maybe, she can’t be sure. Her thoughts are a blur.

Himeko stares unblinkingly at her screen and doesn’t register that her thumb has navigated to your contact and pressed the call button until the line rings. She puts the phone to her ear with apprehension, heart thundering, and holds her breath. The call goes to voicemail. The defeat that crashes over her almost nullifies the effect of the wine, she sucks her lip into her mouth before calling again. And again, and again, and each time she’s met with the same automated message of you asking to leave a voicemail. Her throat tightens. She feels fresh tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She knows she has no right to expect an answer from you after what she’s done but her distress grows with every call she makes. She just wants to hear you, that loving undertone in your voice when you’re speaking to her like she’s special and cherished. She doesn’t count the number of times she’s pressed the redial button and she doesn’t stop to think off how pathetic she must seem, desperate to hear from someone who wants nothing to do with her.

The call connects when she least expects it.

“Himeko?” Your groggy voice answers the phone, leaving her quiet. “Is something wrong?”

Part of her can’t believe you picked up, the other cringes as it realizes that you were asleep. She doesn’t move the phone away from her ear to check the time, she’s frozen in place with her fingers clutching the device. Her mouth opens and closes while she figures out what to say, and the longer she takes the more awkward the silence becomes. Her reply comes out slightly garbled, like she’s biting back her tears, and at first all she manages is your name.

“You… Y-You picked up,” she finally says, swallowing hard to keep her voice from breaking.

“Is something wrong?”

Her eyes squeeze shut. She’s so relieved to hear you again, but the fatigue lacing your words breeds a familiar sense of guilt that washes over her in an instant. She’s woken you up with her insistent calls and your first thought is to worry about her. On one hand, it means you must not despise her as much as her mind has made it seem like. On the other, she’s ripped you from needed sleep and she doesn’t even know what to tell you. She’s wasting your time and if you still felt anything for her prior to now, you surely won’t after that.

Himeko wills her pulse to slow down enough for her to focus. The wine went to her head thirty minutes ago, and it’s making her hazy. She lets out a shaky exhale, taking a moment to steady her breathing before she answers quietly.

“I miss you.”

“...You called for that?”

She can’t help but flinch at how tired you sound, a hint of annoyance in your tone. She deserves it, she tells herself. It’s the middle of the night and she’s calling you to whine about how she misses you, however true that may be, it’s ridiculous and unfair. Her fingers grip the device tighter, her bottom lips trembles, and she tries to think of a response that won’t irritate you further.

“No. I mean, yes? I just… I missed you.” She gets progressively quieter as she speaks, eyes shut tight in apprehension. The alcohol slurs her reply slightly and slows her delivery.

“You don’t get to do this, to call me eight times in the middle of the night after you ended things just to say that you miss me.”

“I know… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have called you…” Regret fills her lungs and tightens her throat. She wraps an arm around her knees and curls in further into herself. “Are you mad at me?”

“...Are you drunk?”

Himeko pauses longer than a sober person would. “Yes…” She says shamefully. “I’m sorry.”

“Drink some water and go to bed.”

It feels like you’re shutting her out, refusing to speak to her when all she wanted was to hear your voice. Her heart sinks and she tightens her hold around her knees. She barely manages a response after a bit of hesitation.

“Okay. I will… I just— missed you and it was stupid to think…” She can’t string a coherent sentence together, her thoughts are jumbled because of how little she’s been sleeping lately and the alcohol she’s been sipping on for the past hour. She also has no idea what to say. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and betrays her by spilling unfiltered sentiments. “I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s making me miserable.”

She’s only ever felt this bad after talking to you when she broke up with you over the phone. It’s obvious you don’t want to hear her drunken blabbering and she feels like a fool, holding back tears as she listens to you breathe on the oher end of the line. She just needs something from you, anything that might provide her some comfort even though she knows she doesn’t deserve it.

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“Huh?” It takes a minute to understand you. She bites back a sniffle, almost certain you’re about to end the call. You would have every reason to. In a moment of drunken confusion, Himeko forgets herself and blurts out, “N-No, of course not, I wouldn’t… I love you.” She’s forgotten she can’t say that anymore, and Himeko is left breathless and horrified at the realization.

The line is silent. She can’t hear your breaths from how loud her heart beats in her ears. Her body tenses, the grip on her phone turns white-knuckled and she doesn’t dare speak another word until you do.

“...You’re the one who broke up with me. Now you miss me? You love me? Seriously?”

“I do miss you. I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing, that it would be better for both of us because you get so sad and it breaks my heart to know that I’m to blame.”

“You don’t get to decide what's good for me. Do you have any idea how I’ve been feeling? It sounds like you did it for you, not for me.”

“No, I…”

“Get some sleep. Goodnight, Himeko.”

Himeko’s body jolts upon hearing your reply, her eyes snap open and she sits up a bit on the couch. There’s more she wants to say to you, but you hung up the phone before she could even call out. She wants to say that it’s not true, she did have your wellness in mind when making that decision. She’s left sitting there, the quiet around her almost deafening. She stares into space as she slowly lowers the phone from her ear.

After a few more minutes of sitting in her sorrow, Himeko finally heaves a sigh of defeat. She can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much. She sets the phone down on the couch, the urge to throw it across the room almost unbearable. She can still hear your words ringing in her ears as she buries her head in her hands, her fingers digging into her hair, and she desperately tries to hold her emotions from spilling out of her in undignified, strangled noises. Her throat feels like it wants to close in on itself while her chest heaves with the effort it takes not to break down in the middle of the parlor. She needs you. She feels so empty without you, and it’s her fault. She thought she was sparing you unnecessary pain and that you would eventually be better off without someone like her, who you can’t see or talk to consistently. She believed that being apart from you would hurt less than having to sit behind a screen and watch you for hours, longing eroding her bones. She was wrong, and the longer Himeko sits there, the more she’s convinced of it. The arguments she’s made up in her mind to justify her decision feel meaningless. She can only feel the weight of your absence as warm tears stream down her cheeks.

The next day, Himeko reminds herself of the path she follows. The spirit of the Trailblaze lies within her, she’s a Nameless and that means she fights to the end no matter the outcome. Three days after that, there’s a knock on your door.

You’re staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom one evening, letting the comforting patter of the rain against your window panes soothe the melancholy of your heart. The breeze is also welcome, you almost doze off against the pillows, eyelids heavy, when a firm fist knocks on your front door. You hear it through the rain, and a frown tugs at your lips. You’re not expecting anyone in this weather and frankly, you’d rather be alone. You consider ignoring it, hoping whoever is vying for your attention gets discouraged and leaves. After a minute, three strong knocks sound from behind the door again. You leave your bed with an irritated sigh. You stride towards the entrance of your apartment, unlock the door and sharply twist the handle to reveal your visitor.

Himeko’s soaked figure stands on the porch. The rain darkens her long hair and seeps into her thin clothes, strands of red sticks to her forehead and her coat uselessly hangs around her shoulders, drenched like the rest of her. Water streams down her face but her eyes are clear as they look up at you, wide with nerves and determination. Her body trembles with a cold shiver. Her lips part in fleeting surprise like she wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. She’s been rehearsing what to say to you in her head on her way to your place, making sure she would leave having said everything she meant to tell you. However, now that she’s standing in front of you in the flesh after so long, the words melt on her tongue and all Himeko can do is utter a single word.

“Hi.”

“Himeko…?” You blink at the sight of her like she’s an apparition meant to mock you. “What are you…”

“Before you say anything, please, let me start,” she swallows once and stands a little straighter, head high. Confessions that have been sitting on her chest for what feels like an eternity come tumbling out of her lips. “I was a coward. I gave up on us when times were toughest and let my insecurities make up reasons for it to justify the fact that I was scared. I was scared you would realize that I don’t deserve you and that you’re better off with a woman who can actually be present in your life. I still believe you’re worthy of that but it was wrong to end our relationship over the phone with no proper discussion, and it was worse to call you afterwards while I’d been drinking. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to be without you, no matter what form our relationship takes. I feel you under my skin like the muscles that make my heart beat. Knowing you is part of what makes me happy, it’s as much a part of me as the Trailblaze, and without you, I’m incomplete. Whether that means anything to you now, I… I love you. I’m in love with you. You don’t have to take me back, but I needed you to hear it.”

You stare at her in disbelief. She has to blink the water out of her eyes as she speaks but her voice never wavers, her conviction shines through the pouring rain and sends your pulse into a frenzy. Himeko’s bare shoulders shake with the cold and she gazes at you with a heaving chest while her words settle in the air. At this distance, her fingertips ache to reach out for your touch. She stands in front of you, and she suddenly forgets how you feel under her palms; the texture of your hair between her fingers, the curve of your back, the plane of your stomach. She longs to experience it all.

It feels like a lifetime before your body decides to obey your mind again. Your heart swells, your lungs fill with air, and you do the only sensible thing you can do. Stepping into the downpour, your palms cup her frozen, rosy cheeks and pull her close. Your lips press into hers with a desperation you didn’t know you were capable of, melding with the softness of her mouth in a passionate kiss. You immediately feel her cold arms around your waist and her wet lips reciprocate your affection. Himeko holds you flush against her as she kisses you with equal emotion, gripping your clothes like she can’t bear the thought of being apart a moment longer. Under the heavy rainfall, you’re as drenched as she is in half a minute. Her breath mingles with yours, your senses become attuned only to her loving mouth and soaked chest pressed to your own. You don’t feel the cold. The water turns your kisses slippery, your lips slide together like you’ve been kissing her your entire life, and Himeko makes a breathy sound into your mouth. In the next instant, her hands are wandering up your back and down your sides, pulling you impossibly close to her body until you’re two pieces of a whole that will never be broken. Her touch spills confessions she will repeat over and over.

Your pace slows to gentle kisses on each other’s lips, foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin and a shiver runs through you from the temperature, but your chest warms at the way Himeko’s nose nuzzles against yours.

“You’ve always been worth the distance, Hime. How could you not be?”

“I’ll find a way to be with you more often. I promise.”

She seals that promise with a revering kiss wet with the heavens’ tears.

#honkai star rail #himeko x reader #hsr himeko #hsr x reader #hsr x you #himeko x you #himeko murata

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cozage · 1 year ago

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Your current Ace fics have me craving domestic bliss! Could you do an ace x fem!reader where their baby is getting vaccines and poor ace is just falling apart and Marco and reader are trying to comfort the baby and ace

OH Domestic bliss indeed. This is a great comfort moment in the midst of all the angst. Characters: Ace x fem reader Cw: vaccinations, needles, and clinics. Total word count: 1.3k

Crybaby

“Ace, please-”

“I’m just saying she doesn’t look good!” He argued. “We can always hold off another day! What if the vaccines just make her body exhausted and she gets more sick?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not how vaccines work.”

“I’m just looking out for her!”

You shot him a look as the two of you entered into the clinic. “Rogue is fine, Ace. Just behave, or I’ll ask Marco about your vaccine updates too.”

Ace’s eyes got wide and he nodded, keeping his mouth shut as the two of you walked into the small waiting room. You knew it was unfair to threaten him with vaccinations. He was terrified of needles. But this was going to be hard enough with one crybaby. You didn’t need two of them.

“Marco!” you called back to him. “We’re here!”

“Come on back!” he called, and the three of you went back to the small examination room.

Marco’s eyes lit up when you walked in holding your baby.

“There she is,” he cooed, reaching out to take her from you. “How is my little princess?”

“She didn’t sleep great last night,” you admitted, handing her off easily. “She’s been pretty fussy the past few days.”

Marco held Rogue up, making faces and funny sounds to get her laughing. She instantly obliged, giggling and shrieking with joy.

You smiled watching the two play together. “You’re so good with her,” you said. “How do you do it?”

“It’s the hair,” Ace joked, still standing in the doorway. He refused to come in any further than that.

You laughed at his cheap shot and beckoned him over to you. You knew clinics were scary for Ace, but this was Marco. He was one of the most trustworthy people on the ship.

Ace came reluctantly, and you interlaced your fingers with his to give him support. You could feel him relax just a bit, which made you feel a bit better.

“Alright,” Marco said, finally bringing Rogue back down onto his lap. “6 month check up, right? And vaccinations. Anything else?”

“Check to see if she’s sick first-” Ace started, but quickly grew quiet when you squeezed his hand.

“Right, right,” Marco said, pulling out his stethoscope. “Mom, I’m gonna have you take the baby back if that’s okay. I think she’ll respond best if she’s in your hands.”

“Sure,” you said, unclasping your hand from Ace’s and reaching for Rogue. You scooped her up and blew a raspberry at her, causing her to erupt into a fit of giggles.

“Ah, she likes that, huh?” Marco grinned.

“It’s her new favorite thing.” You sat on the cold examination table and plopped Rogue in your lap.

Ace was still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room where you had left him. You beckoned him over once again, but this time he looked around nervously, refusing to join you.

“Ace,” you said gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I think maybe we should wait on the vaccinations,” Ace said, looking at Rogue with a concerned gaze.

“She’ll be okay,” you said, waving your hand again to try and get him to join you.

“She probably won’t even feel it,” Marco agreed. “The cold stethoscope will be more jarring for her than the vaccines.”

“I just think-”

“Ace.” Your voice wasn’t hostile, but it was stern. The two of you had talked about this. You lived on a giant ship in the middle of the sea with hundreds of other pirates. Rogue needed her vaccines.

“One day isn’t going to make a big difference,” Ace argued.

“Exactly,” you said back. “Which is why we’re doing them today.”

Marco watched the two of you with an amused look. It was clear to him you both had had this discussion several times already.

“Why don’t we do the exam first, just to make sure everything is okay,” Marco offered.

Ace seemed to be okay with that, and finally joined you all at the exam table.

Marco put his stethoscope up over his ears and held the other part out as you raised Rogue’s shirt. He tickled her stomach a few times to get her smiling, and you could see Ace relax a little bit in the corner of your eye.

Ace was always at such ease when Rogue was smiling. His emotions seemed to be an amplified version of whatever she was feeling. When she couldn’t sleep well, he tossed and turned in your bed. Whenever she cried, it took him hours to calm down. He was so in tune to your all’s daughter that you were almost jealous.

“Do you want to listen?” Marco asked, looking to Ace.

“Me?” Ace asked. “Oh..oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Go ahead.” Marco handed off the stethoscope to his fellow commander, and you saw Ace actually smile for the first time today as he listened to his daughter’s heartbeat.

“Now we’re going to check her ears, nose, and throat.” Marco took back his stethoscope and pulled out another piece of equipment, showing Ace how it worked and allowing him to look when he could.

“Just about everything looks good,” Marco said, rolling back to his desk on his stool to make some notes.

“Just about?” you and Ace asked in synchronicity. Your grip involuntarily tightened around your daughter, concerned by Marco’s words.

“She’s got a minor ear infection.” Marco grabbed a small container from a cabinet and rolled back to you. “Put two drops of this in her left ear every morning and every night for a week. It’s nothing to be concerned about, I promise.”

You nodded and took the ear medication, but Ace looked like he was going to be sick.

“What if it gets worse?” He asked. You could hear his breathing start to grow more rapid.

“Then come see me, man.” Marco laughed and patted Ace on the shoulder. “You guys know your kid, and you know you can come see me anytime. But it’s minor. It would probably go away on its own, but we want to keep the little princess as comfortable as possible, right?”

“Right,” Ace agreed, but you could see his mind was racing with worst-case scenarios already.

“Now for the not-so-fun part,” Marco said, opening a drawer and grabbing three containers and three needles. He smiled at your child in your lap. “Ready, Roguey?”

Ace looked panicked. “Marco, if she’s sick-”

“Won’t harm her at all,” Marco hummed, opening the sterile packaging and filling the needle with the first vaccination.

“But if she’s already in pain-”

You reached your hand out and grabbed Ace’s, holding it tightly. He finally resigned himself to being the minority in this argument, and grew quiet.

“Roguey, Roguey,” Marco sang, poking at her body with his finger and making her giggle. He continued to give her funny faces and sing to her, and then quickly slid the needle under her skin and pushed the vaccine into her system.

Rogue stiffened in your lap for a moment, and you braced yourself for her tears, but Marco continued to sing and poke at her body, and she quickly forgot about whatever strange sensation she had just felt.

Marco administered the second and third vaccine in a very similar way, keeping her so occupied she wasn’t even sure what had happened. When it was all over, he placed a hot pink bandage across her arm and nodded in satisfaction.

“You’re girl is a total badass,” Marco said. “Normally the kids start crying by the second one, but look at that. No tears here.”

“I think Ace is crying enough for both of them,” you grumbled, but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Ace hastily wiped his tears from his eyes and shook his head. “I’m not crying!” he said, though his voice was watery. “She did so well! I’m proud, that’s all.”

“Yeah well,” Marco winked at Rogue, a big smile on his face. “That’s what happens when you have two badass parents.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace #ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x you #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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writingforstraykids · 8 months ago

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.7

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 3592

Summary: The more time you spend with them, the more you realize you're not the only one struggling. Chan and you try to sort things out, making sure Minho feels safe at home as well.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, domestic bullshit, sick!whiny!chan, anxious!min, cuddles

A/N: Sooo...I guess there's still some potential for more. If you have any wishes or thoughts, feel free to share them below the post. in an ask, or send me a message🤭🖤

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

You left early this morning to surprise your husbands with breakfast. Chan told you he'd have the next two days off and stay home with you two. Minho was due for a photoshoot tomorrow so it would be only you and Chan. He's still been keeping his distance beside the kisses anywhere but your lips, the long hugs, and the fondling of your hair. Minho has been more openly showing his love and you were thankful for him. You know you'd have to talk to Channie about it but you could tell he was hesitant about pushing you into something. You quietly lock the front door and put the bags down on the table. The shower upstairs is running, which means at least one of them is up, so you start preparing everything.

Minho joins you downstairs a little later and gives you a loving kiss. “Good morning, honey,” he smiles sweetly.

“Morning, darling,” you smile into the kiss. “Channie's still sleeping?” you ask.

“Am I not enough?” he teases lovingly.

“Minnie,” you giggle, and his hands wander down your sides.

“He said something about a bad headache,” he tells you and fondles your back soothingly. “I don't know, maybe he's stressed, maybe it's the weather.”

“Oh,” you nod gently. “Did you give him some painkillers?”

“No,” Minho shakes his head, tilting his head at you. “I thought you could. He usually loves cuddling you when he's in pain.”

“I..uh,” you blink at him, watching his face grow soft.

“Channie and you really need to talk once he's better,” he says and gently caresses your head. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I try to,” you nod, chewing on your lower lip. “I miss him,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes.

“I know,” Minho pulls you into a warm hug and kisses your head. “It's a bit more difficult for the two of you because he left off when he wasn't feeling much, struggling to tell you he loves you and more. He doesn't want to force himself onto you, scared that he'll hurt you,” he says. “He…he also feels like you need me more at the moment and feel more safe around me.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“I don’t blame any of you, I think you two should just talk, hm?” he suggests. “Now come on, baby, Channie needs you.”

“What about you?” you ask, confused.

“I have to leave for the shoot in a bit,” he says, seeing your face fall, knowing you must’ve forgotten.

“I thought that’s tomorrow,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Min.”

“No, don’t be sorry, honey,” he smiles at you reassuringly. “That only means we can all spend some time together tomorrow. That’s even better now that Channie isn’t feeling so well today,” he tells you.

You chuckle softly, cupping his face and kissing his forehead. It all feels so easy with Minho, easing out every little thing you forget so smoothly. “Make sure to eat something first, okay? Or at least take something with you.”

“I will,” he promises, unable to hide the soft blush coloring his ears at your gentle gesture. He peeks into the bag on the table, and a wide smile covers his face. “You got some pudding as well?”

“Mhm,” you hum, smiling softly as he takes it out and stares at the package before spinning back around to you.

“Wait, that’s my new favorite…how would you-?” his eyes widen with excitement as you nod gently.

“Seeing it I had the feeling you love that one,” you nod. “Like not…a specific memory, but I felt weirdly sure about it,” you tell him, heart warming at the way he beams at you happily.

“I hope you know how great you’re doing,” he says so softly it tugs at your heartstrings. “That first breakthrough was only a week ago, and here you are,” he giggles.

You exhale softly, nodding. “I’m glad because that means there’s an actual chance I’ll start remembering more,” you smile, laughing, surprised as he kisses you fiercely. Minho doesn’t pull away, hands pulling you in as close as he can. Your hand automatically wanders up into his hair, your other resting on his arm as you kiss back. Two steps and your back hits the counter. Minho reaches down, hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, and lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly without breaking the kiss apart. His fingers dig into your thighs as he deepens the kiss with a low hum, and you can tell he has trouble holding himself back. “Minho,” you whisper against his lips. “Min, stop,” you say gently, and he does immediately.

He searches your eyes, a hint of anxiety in the pure need coating his orbs. “Sorry,” he pants softly, reddened lips parted and glistening from the heavy kisses. “I-I should’ve asked first.”

You cup his face, soothingly rubbing his thumbs across his cheeks. “My dear Min,” you say softly. “I’m your wife, and I appreciate you asking, but right now, there’s really no need to,” you assure him, and he visibly relaxes. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Is that all?” he asks mischievously.

“Min,” you snort.

“Is that the only reason I can’t have you for breakfast instead?” he asks again.

“Yes, that’s the only reason,” you giggle, gently shoving his chest. “Now fuck off, Min.”

He smirks, gently squeezing your thighs, and takes a step back. “You owe me tons of kisses later,” he announces giddily.

You laugh, hop back down, and kiss him once more. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I have to,” he says gently. “I really want that kiss,” easing both of your worries hidden beneath this small exchange.

“I’ll go check on Chan now,” you tell him, and he hums agreeingly.

Only a little later, you carefully open the door to your bedroom, trying to close it as quietly as possible. “Channie?” you whisper, and he hums groggily in response. “I brought you some painkillers and water. Do you think you can sit up for a moment?”

Chan groans in response before pushing himself up. He squints at you sleepily, trying to ignore the pulsing pain shooting through his head at sitting up. You sit down at the edge of the bed next to him, handing him the pill. Chan drowsily takes it and lets you bring the glass to his lips, taking a few sips.

“You’re hungry?” you ask, still keeping your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbles, eyes already falling closed again. “Feel sick.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you say softly, and Chan blindly reaches out for you.

“Stay?” he asks pleadingly.

“If you want me to,” you say gently.

Chan nods before contorting his face. “Ow,” he whines softly, scrunching up his nose adorably. “I think I’m dying.”

You bite back a soft chuckle and climb back into bed, getting comfortable next to him. “Come here, you big baby,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need a second invitation to curl up in your arms.

“M’not a baby,” he mumbles softly into your chest, burying his face in your comforting warmth.

“You really wanna argue now?” you tease him lovingly. “I thought you were dying.”

“Fuck you,” he giggles weakly, pulling you closer. “It really hurts, Y/nnie,” he whines after a moment of silence.

You forget sometimes how needy he gets when he’s in pain. “What hurts, baby?”

“My stomach,” he groans softly.

“Let me get you a heat-” you start and sit up, but he pulls you back down.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, looking at you with those big brown puppy eyes you couldn’t say no to.

“Channie, angel, I’m trying to help,” you giggle softly.

“You are,” he says timidly. “Hold me, please? I…I really missed that. I missed you.”

Oh. “I’m here,” you tell him softly, welcoming him back into your arms. You gently run your hand through his hair, and he melts into you with a soft sound. “Is that okay?” you ask as you carefully start massaging his scalp.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Feels good.”

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” you ask gently, and he hums. The tension in his body lessens a little the longer you massage his scalp, running your fingers through his messy curls. You don't know how long you stay like this with him, but you have the feeling he's asleep after a while, his breathing growing calm. His head is tucked in safely beneath yours, his hand slipped beneath your sweater resting against your lower back. It almost feels normal again if there weren't that stupid little voice in the back of your head telling you differently.

Chan turns in his sleep, scooting back as he misses your warmth. “Baby,” he whines sweetly, reaching back for your hand. He pulls your arm forward so you're hugging him and cuddles back into you.

You chuckle softly and scoot closer, planting a tiny kiss on the back of his neck. “I'm here, Channie, I'm here,” you promise quietly.

“Still hurts,” he mumbles, only half awake.

You gently slip your hand beneath his shirt, resting it on his tummy. “Here, baby?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. You start rubbing soothing circles over his tummy, trying to ease him a little.

Chan exhales, relieved, sinking back into his slumber. You bury your nose in his shoulder, closing your eyes as your senses are flooded with him. His skin feels warm beneath your fingertips, his soft breathing lulls you in, and his scent surrounds you. “I love you so much,” you whisper, and he doesn't stir one bit, finally fully asleep.

Minho gets home later to the sight of you two cuddled up in bed. Chan's head is resting on your chest now as he sleeps on top of you. You have your arms wrapped around him lazily, looking peaceful in your sleep. He smiles softly and leans down, lovingly fondling your head and brushing back Chan's curls. He doesn't want to wake you two up yet, but glancing at his watch, he knows he should. Neither of you would be able to sleep tonight otherwise. “Hey, my loves,” he tries gently, rubbing Chan's back and your arm to get you to wake up.

“No,” Chan protests sleepily.

“Come on, Channie. You won't be able to sleep tonight,” he tells him, and Chan groans softly. “Y/nnie, wake up, honey,” he says gently, and a shiver runs down his spine as you’re too deep asleep to react. “Y/n?” he asks again, and Chan looks up at his tone.

“Kitten,” he says soothingly and sits up, rubbing his face. “She's okay,” he promises. Minho glances at you worriedly until Chan gently grabs his chin and turns his head to face him. “Breathe.” He reaches out for you, tickling your side.

“Ey, fucker!” you curse sleepily, swatting his hand away.

Minho blinks at you for a moment before a weak laugh falls from his lips. “Fucks sake,” he whispers to himself. “I'm such an idiot,” he mutters and gets up, grabbing his keys from the nightstand. “Come down once you're ready, yeah? I brought lunch.”

Chan watches him thoughtfully as he leaves and glances back down at you. “Come on, pretty,” he giggles softly.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “How's your head?”

“A lot better,” he tells you, grabbing a sweater from his closet.

“Your stomach?”

“All good,” he smiles gently. “Thank you, baby girl.”

“Of course,” you mirror his smile, but you see the worry lacing his features. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know, something's off with Min,” he says. “You didn't react when he tried to wake you, and I think he got scared for a second.”

“Oh,” you nod gently and tilt your head at Chan. “Maybe that's it. I'm sure he'll be fine. If not, we're there.” Chan nods agreeingly and offers you his hand, helping you out of bed.

Chan exchanges a look with you as a loud thunder ripples through the air. “You know what that means?”

“More cuddles and a movie?” you smirk back.

“Exactly,” he grins, pulling you downstairs with him.

Minho already sets the table and smiles tiredly as you join him downstairs. Another thunder makes him flinch, barely noticeable, and he takes a deep breath. “Just rain,” he tells himself quietly.

“You need help with anything?” you ask him.

“No, it's okay, you guys can sit down,” he tells you and grabs you all some glasses from the cabinet. Chan and you continue talking as Minho pours you all something to drink. The rain outside picks up, hammering against the roof.

“I think we should turn on the light, it's getting darker every minute,” Chan says, getting up to do so.

“Yeah, that's a lot better and-,” you break off as the next thunder makes Minho flinch so hard he's pouring the lemonade all over your lap.

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” he apologizes immediately, putting it down and grabbing some tissues. You watch him cautiously as he tries to clean the mess up as well as he can and notice his hands shaking heavily.

“Min?” you ask gently and exchange a look with Chan. Something is very wrong. “Min, look at me.” He does, and there's fear in his eyes, looking like he's about to zone out. “Minnie, what's -.”

Outside, a car suddenly hits the brakes, an ugly screeching sound rippling through your ears. Minho covers his ears with his hands in horror and presses his eyes closed, exhaling shakily. “It's okay, everything is okay,” he whispers, and the sight breaks your heart as you connect the dots.

Chan seems to pick up on it as well, as you both move at the same time. Chan pulls Minho against his chest, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He soothingly rubs his chest and meets your eyes as you step in front of them. You gently take Minho's hands and pull them from his ears. “Minho, darling, look at me,” you say gently, and Minho does, gasping softly. “We're okay. It's just bad weather, but we're safe, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods quickly and tries to focus back on you. You cup his face, and he covers your hands with his own, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Remember what you told me this morning?” you ask, and Minho chuckles weakly.

“You owe me at least one kiss,” he says, slowly relaxing in Chan's hold combined with the sound of your voice.

“Yeah,” you giggle softly. “We're okay, hm?”

Minho nods before dropping his head onto your shoulder with a soft sound. “I'm sorry,” he says and wraps one arm around you, his other hand finding Chan's on his chest.

“Don't be,” Chan tells him gently.

“It's okay,” you assure him.

“I love you two so much,” he sighs softly, and you both squeeze him gently.

“We love you too, kitten,” Chan answers for the both of you.

You stay there for a while until Minho giggles softly. “You can let go now.”

“You're sure?” Chan smirks.

“Very sure,” Minho snorts.

“You already have enough of our love?” you chime in teasingly.

“Never,” he giggles.

“Then what's the rush, huh?” Chan chuckles, covering the back of his neck with tiny kisses as you do the same to his face.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he laughs happily. Chan and you exchange a fond gaze at the so beloved sound, knowing he's okay. “I can't reheat lunch again.”

“Fine,” you giggle, letting go of him again.

The movie’s long finished as you're still all on the sofa. Minho's stretched out on the sofa, his head resting in your lap, legs thrown over Chan's. He's asleep by now, exhausted from his day. You mindlessly play with his hair, drawing patterns on his face in awe. Chan absentmindedly fondles his thighs, head back against the headrest as he stares at the ceiling. You glance at him, gently running your hand through his hair. “How's your head?” you ask as his eyes flutter close at your touch.

“Much better,” he assures you gently, turning a little to face you. Looking into his eyes, you can see the many questions in them, mirroring your own. “Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible.

“Mhm?” you hum, still playing with his curls.

“Do you…Do you still love me? Actually love me?” he asks so timidly your breath hitches in shock.

“I-,” you stare at him, almost confused. Wasn't that supposed to be your question?

Chan takes your silence the wrong way and nods, turning away from you. “Okay…fuck,” he whispers, his throat tightening. He's up before you know it, leaving the two of you as tears fill his eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe.

You need a moment to process what's happening before quickly getting up, resting Minho's head on a pillow, and covering him with a blanket.

Chan's upstairs in the bathroom, bracing himself on the sink so firmly that his knuckles turn white. His head hangs low, but you know the way his body’s trembling; he's holding back sobs. You slip underneath his arm so you're trapped between his body and the sink. “Channie,” you whisper, helplessly cupping his face. Your hands meet his wet skin, and you try to wipe his tears away. “Channie, my dear boy.”

“I'm sorry I messed it all up,” he whimpers. “I shouldn't have pushed you away back then, and I shouldn't have now. I swear I'll make it up to you. Please just give me a chance,” his voice cracks at the last bit.

“Okay, okay, come here,” you say, pulling him into your arms. He buries his face in your shoulder, shaking in your arms. “Listen closely now, yeah?” you ask, waiting for his nod. “I will never stop loving you. Min told me how rough those months before the accident were for you, and I won't judge you for that. I know how hard you try to make Min and me comfortable, don't think I don't see that,” you tell him gently, soothingly rubbing his back as he grows calmer in your hold. “I'm scared I'm not the woman you love anymore because, well, I forgot a lot, and I carry a lot of baggage around now. And seeing you keeping your distance, I only felt like I was right about that…but maybe we're scared of the same thing about ourselves?”

Chan pulls back and smiles at you with teary eyes. “Y/nnie, you don't mean anything less to me than when we met. Fuck, you mean so much more to me by now. I just…Now that I got it back it feels like I don't know where to put all that love I have for you two and..I try bottling it up before scaring you off.”

“Please don't,” you tell him gently. “You've always been so loving, don't try to hide that. I really miss that, angel.”

Chan leans his forehead against yours in defeat and takes a shuddery breath. “So we're okay?” he asks timidly.

“We're okay,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?” you ask and Chan's body automatically searches yours, fingers digging deep into the fabric of your sweater.

“Please,” he breathes out. Your lips meet, pulling a soft sound from him. “Missed you so much,” he whispers into the kiss, hands cupping your face so delicately as if you were made of glass.

You only pull back once you feel he's ready and wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into him. “I love you, Channie. So, so much. Never forget that.”

“I love you too,” he smiles softly. “I'll do better.”

You shake your head and soothingly run your hand through his hair. “Channie…I think sometimes we forget we interrupted your healing process with that stunt we pulled.”

“Don't call that a stunt,” he laughs in protest.

“Okay,” you giggle, amused. “But like…you were working things out and coming back…Min told me how fucked up he was. I know that fight we had and what happened today is only a small glimpse of what you dealt with. So, you didn't really have time to get back home.”

“I suppose not,” he nods gently, frowning a little.

“I can't change the fact that I need to be patient for my memories to come back…even if it's just partially,” you say and gently kiss his head. “But I will try my best to help you two feel comfortable around me and make sure you have a loving home.” Chan doesn't say anything, but the way he clings to you tells you everything you need to know. “Let's go get Minnie, I think we could all use the extra hours of sleep today.”

“Mhm, okay,” he hums softly, not quite ready to let go of you.

“We can cuddle, angel,” you promise, and he pulls back with the sweetest smile on his lips.

Chan gently picks up Minho from the sofa who protests with a soft whine. “Shh, it's okay, just taking you to bed,” he says fondly.

Minho wraps his arms around him sleepily. “You two are okay?” he asks softly, having noticed your sudden absence.

“Yeah, we're okay,” Chan nods.

“That's good,” Minho smiles sweetly, kissing his neck sleepily.

He doesn't protest much as Chan lowers him into bed and cuddles into you contently. Chan climbs into bed on your other side, doing the same. You fall asleep much more at peace than usual. You'd take care of your boys now.

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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