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kvohru · 1 year ago

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boxes of clementines | w. herondale

will herondale x fem reader, no mention of shadowhunter stuff, established relationship, husband!will, fluff!!!! so much fluff!!!!, cross posted on ao3 under @/kvohru

‘There are boxes of clementines in the kitchen and the thing is that I love you again.’ — Alessia Di Cesare, The Side Effects of Eating Too Many Clementines

Despite it being a December morning, it was surprisingly warm in your home— for a wintry London day's standards, that is. The sun was up, for one thing, its delicate rays filtering through the clouds and into your kitchen.

Perhaps it's the fact that you live in the countryside? you thought idly as you put away your groceries. Maybe that's why it was sunnier today? Well, regardless, your warm friend was still a welcome guest any day.

Seeing as how it was the weekend today, neither you nor Will had work, so you took it as a chance to get caught up on some housekeeping chores like groceries and such. Well, you had been out getting groceries while Will—who was set to return by the afternoon—was out doing… other things. (He was out replacing something or the other, you weren't quite focusing when he had told you about it the other day.)

And so you went on, adopting a tranquil rhythm, sorting boxes into cupboards and washing all the fresh produce you'd bought. Apples, strawberries and cucumbers were left to soak in the sink while the boxes of clementines were left on the kitchen counters.

You let out a contented sigh. It was a good morning.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It was well past the afternoon when Will was walking up the stone walkway to the quaint countryside home. In fact, the sun was already starting to set by then, the pale blue sky quickly turning a warm orange instead.

He trudged up the steps to the front porch, adjusting the large bouquet in his hands; a brilliant arrangement of flowers that he didn't think twice about buying when he passed by that florist he often frequented for you.

He shifted the bags he was carrying along with said bouquet to his other arm, freeing up his right to dig into his coat pocket for the keys. “Cariad?” he called as he walked in, toeing his shoes off and placing them neatly beside the door.

It was a few seconds before your reply, which came in form of a Hm?, could be heard. He set all the bags down. A few more seconds where he could hear your feet padding across the wooden floors before you finally, finally, came into view.

“Will!” After all these years, you still had a way of seeming utterly excited when seeing him. I mean, he could practically see the almost cartoonish glimmer in your eyes from across the room.

“Hey, darling,” he greeted gently, his whole body instantly relaxing at the sight of you. It was as if simply being around you worked all the knots from his shoulders and eased all his muscles.

The smile wholly transformed your face at the sound of the term of endearment, the corners of your eyes crinkling adorably and your lips splitting instantly into a wide smile.

The setting sun cast long shadows on the ground, the slanting rays giving a warm orange tinge to the earth, the sky and everything in between.

Your eyes finally left his face and travelled down to his body, where you finally spotted the bouquet balanced on his elbow. He had thought it'd be the first thing you'd notice when he walked in, seeing as how it was almost as big as his torso, but you hadn't.

You'd been too transfixed on his face, on him, to notice anything else.

Your face instantly softened, an almost infinitesimal shift in your expression that would've been impossible to notice if it were anyone else looking at you. But Will noticed. He always did.

It was like it was happening in slow motion, that change in your expression. From the previous childlike joy at seeing your husband to the look of pure, unadulterated love in your eyes.

“Oh, darling,” you breathed, almost to yourself, as you walked closer. You gingerly plucked the bouquet out of his arm, instantly pulling it up to your face to smell it. It really was a gorgeous arrangement; from the roses to the carnations to the peonies, and the tiny pieces of baby's breath sprinkled throughout.

And the part that made it all the more precious to you was that you knew Will had taken time out of his day to put it together. You knew it wasn't prearranged, and the image of your husband standing at the florist and meticulously putting together an assortment of flowers for you warmed your heart to an immeasurable degree.

“Will,” you breathed again, and… were you getting teary-eyed? You looked up at him, and yep, those were definitely tears lining your waterline. He couldn't help the corner of his mouth lifting at the sight. “They're so beautiful. You're so beautiful. Thank you so much. I love you.”

You were gushing your praises and gratitude now, and it wouldn't be long before—

“Wait,” you mumbled, a look of realisation (which looked more like horror than anything) falling over your face. You whipped your head around, your ponytail smacking him in the chest from the force of the motion.

He barely contained his amused scoff. You were and would always be incredibly and adorably predictable. Not to mention incredibly easy to read, too.

“No occasion,” he said, interrupting your Oh No Did I Miss An Important Date?™ scanning-over-the-calendar routine. You let out an audible sigh of relief, your whole body slumping forward with the motion, and this time Will couldn't hold back the smug grin.

You set the bouquet down and looked at him, suspicious despite your relief. He could practically hear the question in your gaze (refer back to what I said about you being incredibly easy to read), and he was sure it went something like this: A bouquet this big for no reason?

He sighed dramatically and leaned closer, his voice taking on that classic teasing lilt of his, “What? Can't a man surprise his wife with flowers in peace?”

“But why?” you insisted quietly. Clearly, you were incredibly worried you'd somehow forgotten about an important date. Because what if you had and Will, being the ever so gracious (debatable) man that he was, didn't want to embarrass you by reminding you?

“Just because.”

“But it's so big.” Your worried gaze met his, and his grin split even wider.

“Not the only big thing I can—”

You smacked him lightly on the arm to shut him up. “Come on!” he complained, forever the melodramatic man that he was, “You practically walked into that one!”

You rolled your eyes, but the gesture held absolutely no heat, especially not when you were smiling despite yourself. “Thank you,” you said sincerely, rising up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his, and hoping he could sense the extent of your gratitude in that kiss.

“Of course, my love,” he murmured softly between kisses, the teasing leaving his voice entirely and being replaced by an insurmountable amount of love.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A while later, after he had changed and joined you back in the kitchen, the two of you could be found sitting at the kitchen island, sharing a clementine.

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kvohru · 9 months ago

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absolutely ravishing - maiko week ’24 day 3/4

prompts - jealousy / parents

inspired by this tweet by kvohru 'maiko headcanon zuko puts baby izumi's hair into mai's buns anytime he pisses mai as a way of silly apology/getting her to soften up & talk to him WALK WITΗ ΜΕ' in which maiko go to a party and mai feels left out. baby izumi is the cutest. zuko is a good father. amongst other things lol.

It was a lovely, sunny morning, and Mai was pissed off.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary—after all, she was famously ‘angry at the world’, but this was different. Today, Mai was pissed at the Firelord.

Also known as her husband.

He was, admittedly, unsure as to what he’d done to warrant her annoyance today, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting her further by asking. God, no. He’d rather pluck every hair off his body than have Mai think he was an inattentive, dismissive, careless husband who didn’t care about his gorgeous, beautiful wife! He was better than that, thank you very much. So he did the next best thing and tried to rack his brain, thinking over his actions over these past few hours.

Okay, he thought, pulling out a teapot from the cupboard. This mood started at, like, 8 pm last night? He put on some water to boil, falling into that familiar rhythm of making tea.

Because he was the Firelord, he rarely had the chance to do things for himself, and while that was an insane privilege he frankly enjoyed, it was nice to take a break from everything and just be with his family, away from the hubbub of the palace.

Hence this vacation at Ember Island.

The moment he realised he had a few off-days in his calendar, he decided to plan for him and his wife to go on vacation.

He let the teapot boil and started on breakfast. Rice for the rice porridge, what remained of the dumplings and steamed buns they’d bought, and whatever else he could find. Oh, and eggs and chopped fruit for baby Izumi.

He smiled at the thought of their pudgy little 9 month old. She was just starting to speak, though that mostly came in the form of incoherent babbling with the occasional Mama. Yeah, she called them both Mama.

And yes, Zuko was a teensy bit sulky about that, but I digress.

Just as he was about to put his hair up and start on breakfast, he heard that distinct baby voice he was just thinking about. He glanced at the clock— yup, 7.30 a.m., on the dot. Izumi was awake.

Right now, it was usually a race with time. He had a very short window of time before Izumi’s good-tempered giggles would turn into wailing screams, and he was determined not to wake Mai up any earlier than she needed to be.

She was on vacation and she deserved to rest.

Also, she was mad at him. So. He really didn't need to make it worse for himself.

“I’m coming, darling,” he called out in a whisper when he was close enough, crossing the distance in long strides. At the sight of that little girl in her crib, all chubby limbs and big golden eyes, he smiled and reached to grab her. “Hi, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling into that space between her cheek and shoulder and kissing her. “D’you sleep well?”

She made an incoherent baby noise and happily grabbed a strand of his long hair, which was, positively, one of her favourite pastimes, it seemed. He winced, regretting not putting it up earlier. “Let’s get you changed,” he said, trying to untangle her fingers from his hair— that is, trying to undo that vice-like grip babies seemed to have. I mean, at least that meant her fine-motor skills were good? Pincer grip, and all, right?

She didn’t let go. He sighed.

“Sweetheart, you need to let go so I can get you out of this nasty diaper.”

She didn’t budge.

“Don’t you wanna change so we can surprise Mama with breakfast? We won’t have time if you keep this up.” Just as he had begun to suspect that reasoning with a nine month old was a lost cause, she actually let go.

“Mama!”

“Oh, of course that’s what gets you to let go!” He clicked his tongue.

She giggled again, and, instead of grabbing his hair, she valiantly took to doing her other favourite pastime. Which was just, like, smacking him on the face repeatedly.

Think like, someone clapping their hands, but instead it’s just his face between her hands.

Since he was almost always on morning duty, this was more or less how every morning went.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Finally, after much trials and tribulations (i.e. Zuko violently getting his hair pulled and cheeks pinched), Izumi was changed into an adorable onesie and strapped into her high chair in the kitchen.

Oh, also, the water had completely evaporated in the time it took them to do all that, so he needed to refill the teapot. “What would Uncle think if he sees this,” he grumbled, opening the window to let the steam out.

Now that that was all over with, he was again plagued with the fact that Mai was mad at him, and he didn't know why! So, being the mature Firelord he was, he decided to take that issue to council.

“Your mom is mad at me,” he said to Izumi, quickly tying his long hair back and away from his face, in a loose bun at the bottom of his head, and rolling up his sleeves.

Izumi babbled excitedly and kicked her feet at the reference of her mother. “Mama!”

“Yup, that’s the one,” Zuko agreed, chuckling. He pulled out a bamboo steamer and started preparing the dumplings and steamed buns, planning on letting them steam while he washed and cooked the rice. “Anyway, as I was saying, Mama is mad at me, but I don’t know why. I tried asking her last night, of course, but she said she was ‘fine’, which is, obviously, a blatant lie.”

He cut up some fruit on a plate for Izumi to hold her off while everything else was ready. He had approximately twenty minutes until Mai got up, which he figured would be enough.

“I can’t really recall doing anything to upset her last night, and I don’t even know when she got upset, you know? She was fine and then she suddenly wasn’t!” He finished washing the rice and transferred it over to a pot to cook. Drying his hands, he continued, “But” —he turned to Izumi seriously, crouching down to her eye level— “of course, me not remembering or knowing why Mai is upset does not mean that I am not at fault!” He cupped Izumi’s cheeks, interrupting her mid-chew. She grinned happily at him with her whopping six (!) teeth. (New development, by the way). He continued, determined to set a good example for his daughter, “Even if I don’t understand why Mama’s upset — even if she has told me, and I still don't get it — she still deserves an apology, because at the end of the day, I upset her, and that’s all that matters. Understood, Firelord Izumi?” He playfully pinched her little nose (which was identical to her mother’s), and she giggled, reaching for him with fruit-sticky hands.

“Anyway…” and so he continued, thinking out loud with his daughter and trying to puzzle out the reason for his darling wife’s anger at him, all while making breakfast for their family of three.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Mai, come on, we'll be late!” Zuko called out, fastening his red robes around his waist.

“Well I don't know what to wear!” she called back from her place in the closet, frustrated.

“It doesn't matter! You look—”

“—And I love you, but you telling me that ‘I look beautiful in everything’ does not help!”

Zuko sighed. He'd dressed himself and Izumi in the time it took for his darling wife to… affectionately, make a mess of their closet and complain about having nothing to wear.

Placing Izumi in her little chair, he said with an affectionate roll of the eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.”

“Is this good?” Mai asked, bashfully, when Zuko rapped his knuckles on the closet door and walked in, leaning against the doorframe.

He breathed out. She looked beautiful.

She was wearing a long, pretty, dark red dress that hugged her curves and flared out at the bottom. It had a row of buttons that sloped from the neckline down to her side, and dainty golden embroidery that matched her eyes and the gold and red fan earrings she wore. Her hair was in the usual hairstyle she'd adopted in her adult years— half of it in an elegant bun at the back of her head towards her nape, and the rest in two strands over her shoulders and down over her chest.

He noticed she put two beautiful gold pins through the bun.

“Do you like it?” she asked again, and he had an inclination her rosy cheeks weren't just due to an excess of powder blush. She adjusted it over her hips. “Is it too tight? It doesn't fit the same since” —she bit the inside of her cheek, averting her eyes and smoothing the fabric over her stomach— “Izumi.”

Zuko moved closer, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. Her hands went to his chest automatically, a familiar affection built over years of being together. “You look,” he rasped, hoisting her up by her waist and wrapping his arms around her middle, “absolutely ravishing.”

He craned his neck and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, kissing and gently tugging back. She wrapped her legs tighter around her and grinned despite herself, cupping his cheeks and looking down at him. One thing she enjoyed about being carried was the limited height she gained over Zuko.

She leaned down and kissed him again, their lips interlocking in an easy embrace. “Are you sure? You're not just saying that to get me to hurry up?” He could still hear a hint of unsurety in her low, raspy voice.

“Positive,” he responded in kind, slanting his lips over hers, “but if you don't want to go…” his hand slipped down her back to her ass.

She rolled her eyes without any heat, picking up on his very obvious implication. “Alright, horndog. Hands off.” She hopped down and adjusted her dress before looking up at him through her lashes and, teasingly, parroting back, “We'll be late.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

The sight Mai was met with when she walked downstairs was, she thought, a sight she could never get bored of. It was such a quintessential picture of domesticity she, at one point in her life, could've never imagined would've been hers.

Her husband in the kitchen making breakfast while their daughter sat beside him, babbling incoherently the way babies did.

“Really?! And what after that?” he asked animatedly, humouring said daughter while still focused on the plate he was assembling. Mai exhaled softly, leaning against the doorframe and just watching.

Watching her husband’s overly focused face as he diligently placed the fresh steamed buns onto a plate using chopsticks, a furrow in his dark brows and his hair tied back, all the while nodding along with Izumi’s story (which was, of course, all adorable gibberish).

And Izumi, who was sitting in a high chair and shoving eggs into her mouth using her entire fist, no doubt making a mess around her. What struck her though was Izumi’s hair, which was in two little buns at the sides of her head, and the front was smoothed over her head in a silly imitation of a fringe.

Mai bit back a smile.

This was obviously Zuko’s attempt at recreating Mai’s infamous hairstyle on their daughter. Which was a regular occurrence.

“Mai!” Zuko had finally noticed her.

Even after all these years of being together, and a whole child together, he still had a way of lighting up so genuinely every time he saw her. And no, this is not a firebending pun.

The way his eyes widened in an almost child-like excitement and his immediate awestruck kind of smile that made him resemble his sixteen year old self were almost enough for her to forget the fact that she was upset with him. Almost.

He set down the food, which was all ready now, and wiped his hands before walking up to her. “Sleep well?” he asked gently, tilting her chin up to kiss her. His touch was feather-light, so she could tell he was hesitant. Clearly, he hadn’t nor was he pretending to have forgotten about her mood, so. One point for him.

She let him kiss her, and she kissed back, because over their years of being together, one of the things she realised was that dealing with conflict did not mean that they had to rescind their love from each other— and especially for them two, whose primary language was physical touch.

“I slept pretty well,” she replied, her raspy voice full of that polite disinterest most people were used to hearing from her. To someone else, maybe, this wouldn't have been any cause for concern or anything out of the ordinary, but Zuko was immediately alarmed.

He could always tell.

So she's still upset. That was fine. He hadn't really expected otherwise. In fact, this was good for him, because there was no chance she could dismiss his questions about it now and say that ‘Oh, it's nothing, don't worry about it’.

They sat down to eat, and after a moment of awkward silence that made him feel like a seventeen year old in an argument with his girlfriend (also Mai) again, he broke.

“What did I do?” he blurted out. It wasn't an accusatory or patronising or deliberately obtuse question in any way. He sounded painfully earnest. “I know I did something to upset you, but I just… don't know what it is. I'm sorry. I tried to think, but I still don't know. I love you. Please tell me.”

If any of his friends could see him right now, the high and mighty Firelord, practically (unintentionally) giving his wife puppy eyes, they'd probably say he was pathetically in love.

And they'd be right.

Mai sighed and put her chopsticks down.

Another thing she'd realised over the years was that, as corny as it sounded, communication really was key. There was no use going in circles and beating around the bush and waiting for the other person to figure it out. Sometimes—most times—you just needed to have the conversation and move on.

Butttttt that doesn't mean that she didn't enjoy making him sweat sometimes. Most times.

“Last night,” she supplied. “At the party.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he responded without missing a beat, spooning a bit of dumpling into Izumi's mouth. “Good, huh?” He grinned when she got all excited and signed more. He directed his attention back at Mai, “Sorry. Keep going, baby.”

She feigned frustration, turning her face away from him while stroking Izumi’s hair, playing with the tiny buns. The feeling of the soft sprouts of hair between her fingers almost made her crack a smile. She knew it was Zuko's way of softening her up, but she didn't crack, wanting to make him sweat a little longer.

She shrugged nonchalantly, saying, “Your little… girlfriend was there last night. You didn't tell me she'd be there.”

He blinked. “Jin?!”

Mai scoffed. “Still on a first name basis, huh?” She shook her head in bewilderment, muttering, “You'd think the Firelord would have some respect for his wif—”

“Darling,” he breathed, interrupting her, in so much theatrical disbelief she almost laughed. He was so dramatic. He left his chair and immediately went to kneel in front of her, taking her hand in his.

Out of everything he could've guessed, it never would've been this. Mai was never jealous—not of his old girlfriends (just the one), that is. And of course, he wasn't faulting her for that or anything, but it was just… unexpected.

They'd met Jin the previous night unexpectedly at the party, and having already been well acquainted years ago (and having gone to Jin's wedding and having invited her to theirs, and having had Jin visit them on numerous occasions, the most recent being Izumi's birth), he'd safely assumed that speaking to Jin was fine. Right?

I mean, come on, Jin and Mai were closer than Jin and Zuko ever had been! They'd gone on one date, for God's sake!

But he wouldn't dare discredit Mai's feelings, no matter what.

“Did I say something specific that upset you? Or was it just the fact that I was having a conversation with her to begin with?” he asked, stroking her cold knuckles with his thumb, the contrast between their body temperature making him want to just scoop her up and take her to their bed to warm her up. In any means necessary.

Again, his question was nothing more than earnest.

“I… don't know,” Mai answered honestly, because even though she thought she didn't really care, she realised that she really was a little hurt, still. She had, of course, had time to think about it the previous night in the shower, and she'd come to the conclusion that while, yes, she was a little hurt at him barely paying any attention to her the whole night, busy both with Jin and everyone else who kept flanking him for a chance to speak with the Firelord, it was mostly the hormones speaking and after taking a little time to cool down, she understood that her feeling left out didn't mean that he was intentionally leaving her out. “I guess I just felt a bit jealous. And left out.”

“Mai…”

She squirmed. Even after all these years, she still felt that vague discomfort in the pit of her stomach when vocalising her feelings.

She rushed to say, “I know it's nothing and that you love me and that you're the Firelord and it's your duty to—”

“I am your husband before I am the Firelord,” he fiercely interrupted and pulled her down to join him on the floor. The gentleness of his touch contrasted the tone of his voice, both determined and desperate. “I am yours before I am anyone else's. My duty is to you, first and foremost, and I was wrong to neglect you in a party I brought you to. We came here to relax— to enjoy time away from all that Firelord bullshit, but I still found away to sink back into that role.”

“Zuko,” she said quietly with a hint of a smile, leaning into him and looping her arms around his neck, “it really isn't that big of a deal.” She kissed him sweetly once, his arms instantly going around her and pulling her closer against him. “I was just hormonal.” Then with an adorably teasing smirk that Zuko wanted to kiss off her face, she jested, “You can stop with the melodrama now.”

He huffed a laugh and spoke sincerely against her lips, “Still. I don't care if it was ‘the hormones’. I still upset you, and I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't a big deal,” she insisted, but deep down, she was really glad he cared so sincerely for her feelings.

“Don't care. I'm still sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile and the rumble of laughter in her chest. “Fine, you drama queen.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. “I forgive you.”

He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, one side of his lips tugging up in a smirk. “So soon?” he murmured against her, slipping his fingers in her long silky hair. “I was ready to make it up to you.”

Before the kiss could escalate any further—their daughter was right there, hello?—Mai pushed Zuko away, laughing. “Are you in heat?” she asked, giggling.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “For you? Always.”

She shook her head with laughter and pulled him up to stand. They made a good couple.

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