#fluff fics save me fluff fics

[i-ran-into-a-lampost]

Everybody decided that this guy needs to go through hell like canon wasn't enough for y'all PLEASE

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ask me to leave and i’ll stay forever ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists there’s no need to take care of him. thankfully, you’re equally as stubborn.

word count; 10.8k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, implied non-sorcerer!reader, sickfic, reverse comfort, sickening amounts of fluff, lots of petnames, satoru gojo vs the mortifying ordeal of being loved, just a tinyyyy bit of angst if u rlly squint, literally just satoru being pampered for like 10k words straight, he’s cute when he’s sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, he’s also a huge sap you have been warned!!

a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the ”satoru gojo needs to be babied relentlessly” club <33 he’s just a little guy!! tagging @catchuuu my beloved for being the sweetest enjoy a healthy dose of sick sleepy satoru <33 i am tagging all toru enjoyers in spirit btw i love u all

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead — skin sweaty, hot to the touch, with a flushed face to match. heavy breaths fall from his parted lips, blinking in and out of consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut.

it’s nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru you’re so used to. he’s weak. he’s fatigued.

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

”really, baby,” he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. ”there’s no need f’ —”

unceremoniously, his limbs give out beneath him, and he tumbles right back down; a meek little wince escaping his throat as his face falls back into the mattress. the sound makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.

”ah. that’s…” he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. ”… annoying.”

satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell he’s resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. he’s still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up — you can practically feel it, from where you’re standing, crouched down by his bed.

you’ve never, ever seen satoru like this. you’ve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. you’ve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters. 

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

”satoru, please just —” you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. ”don’t overdo it. please?”

you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you can’t do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoru’s lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind. 

he looks so small.

this wasn’t what you were expecting to see, today. you were expecting to meet up with satoru, and see his happy little grin, those tiny dimples and freckles that only show themselves in the light of the sun. you were expecting to feel the weight of his hand in yours, as you strolled down to the new crêpe stand he’s been wanting to check out since he first found their instagram account.

you were expecting to see him happy. healthy. a little obnoxious, a little annoying — but hopelessly sweet. all the love you could ever need, molded into a human shape. your little angel.

a sigh slips from your lips. you can’t help it; because satoru is just so stubborn, so closed off, and he can be such an idiot sometimes. you knew something was off the moment he sent you that text, asking you oh so charmingly, apologetically, if you could postpone your date for just an hour or so. you knew something was wrong, but he still wouldn’t let up until you brought out the 🥺 emojis. 

and then he told you he was fine. it’s all he ever is, apparently.

my throat’s just a little scratchy, is all. wouldn’t want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. <3

moron.

he’s curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you can’t make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this — like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

moron. moron. he should’ve called you the moment he realized he was sick. instead, you had to coax him into letting you come over, with a flurry of sad and cute emojis you know make him go weak at the knees when they’re coming from you.

and here you are. in satoru’s house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick. 

but he just won’t listen.

”just — gimme a couple minutes, honey?” your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. ”i just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i —”

”satoru.”

there’s a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality. 

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

as gently as you can, you settle down on the bed, eyes painfully softened. overflowing with care. towering over him, leaning close — to press your lips against his scorching forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs with a palpable tenderness. your voice soothing, coming out almost as a low coo. you’re frustrated, and exasperated.

but most of all, you’re worried.

”go back to sleep,” you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. ”i’ll take care of you.”

”there’s no need,” he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness. 

but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like you’re much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. it’s only a matter of time.

so you keep your lips against his forehead, cradling his slender fingers in yours, murmuring little whispered reassurances. and before you know it, his lashes have fluttered shut, like a white dove landing on the ground. he still looks so troubled, so meek. you can’t resist the urge to soothe him, hand cupping his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. you watch him lean into it, eyes dripping with care. your poor baby. 

for a couple precious moments, you allow yourself to indulge in the sight. even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him. 

so you’re delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him — leaving him in only an oversized tee and a pair of briefs. satoru can only whine, softly, so quiet you barely even hear him. so disoriented, on the brink of falling into a deep slumber. some part of him is trying to resist, you’re sure, still agonizing over the date he’s missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.

but it doesn’t work. he can only let out a tiny groan, hopelessly pliant as you tuck him in, pulling a big blanket over his shoulders. you card through his hair, another soft kiss planted on his sweaty forehead — and your hand stays between his locks until you’re sure he’s asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.

you’d crawl under the blankets with him, but you have work to do.

stealing one final glance at your fever-ridden lover, your heartbeat ricochets. he still looks so meek, all warm and sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin. a frown tugs at your bottom lip.

satoru is always so stubborn, refusing to lean on others for support. you wish he had called you immediately, nagged at you to come baby him. sure, you might’ve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still would’ve made you feel happy. useful. and you would’ve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, he’ll do it next time.

so you stand up, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead one last time, and make your way towards the kitchen.

satoru’s house is spacious. a little too spacious, enough for at least three people to live in comfortably; nice furniture, an expensive sofa in the living room, a large tv you’re almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesn’t invite you over very often, so you’ve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. it’s always the other way around — him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing don’t even worry about it, baby! when you ask how he got in without a key. or him, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, filling the sleepy silence with jokes to distract you from the bags under his eyes.

(he likes it when you cling to him in your sleep — he sleeps a lot better that way. that’s what he told you, at least, when you brought him coffee in bed that one time. a little glimmer of honesty.)

he stays over so often he might as well just move in, but you aren’t really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears it’d be too much, too intimate, that he’d pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter you’ve grown so fond of. so you figure it’s better to let him make a home out of yours, let him curl up on your couch and snack on the candy you hid in your kitchen cabinets. that’s safe for him.

and now that you’ve seen his home up close — if you can even call it that — you think you’re starting to understand his preference. because it’s spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isn’t anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasn’t even bothered to make it his. like it’s about to be sold, and you’re just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

his own bedroom was another story, a much more pleasant one. a lot more satoru. filled with little trinkets, key charms and souvenirs and silly figurines. a framed photo of three students by the windowsill, an old uniform hanging by his closet, socks strewn about here and there. a dying houseplant. comic books and movie posters and a ps5 you don’t think he’s touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when he’s lying in it, next to a cat plushie you won for him at a fair. knowing he actually sleeps with it kind of makes you want to cry.

there’s this particular scent, too, lingering in the air. mellow, nostalgic, the kind that soothes you with just a whiff; a blend between sunlight, expensive cologne, and something sweet. it clings to all his favorite clothes, to his skin. you’d live in it if you could. 

something constricts, inside your chest — like thorny vines strangling your beating heart, pressing down ever so slightly. just thinking about it, about him, about his distressed expression as his head hit the pillow. making your way over to his kitchen, getting yourself affiliated with the space, preparing to make a good soup for his fever. the fridge is almost empty, save for sweets and that one drink you like. the takeout boxes on his kitchen table tells you all you need to know.

it only makes you worry more.

luckily, you were clever enough to buy your own ingredients on the way here. chop, chop, into tiny little pieces. chicken soup should help, shouldn’t it? it’s all you can focus on, all you can hope for. anything is fine; you just want to help him, be of use somehow. he does so much for you.

you just want to give some of it back.

satoru’s loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face. 

that’s when you see him. that lonely, lonely guy. resigned to his self-imposed isolation, paradoxically yearning for something more. watching as the cherry trees bloom, like they’ll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.

but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you won’t push it — that you’ll let him take his time. that you’ll let him flee, just a little. 

still, you can’t help but wish he’d lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but it’s a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it. 

all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until he’s had his fill.

(you’re not sure he ever will. it’s a good thing, a very good thing, because you’re almost certain you’ll never run out.) 

and that’s why you’re here. in his ghost of a home, his kitchen, pouring water into a large pot. tender, sprinkling love over every single action, every slice and dice, every piece of chicken and veggies thrown into the boiling water. you try and you try, hoping it’ll reach him.

but before you can make another attempt, something reaches you, instead.

two long arms curl around your waist, suddenly, something warm and soft pressing itself against your back. and you almost flinch, completely caught up in the stirring of the soup, unsure of how much time has passed since you began. it jolts you out of your thoughts. 

you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that he’s the only other person in the apartment; you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

it’s awfully sweet, the way he clings to you, the soft little blissful sigh that slips from his lips. but before you can feel moved at the domesticity of the gesture, worry clouds your senses. he doesn’t even get the chance to speak.

”satoru —” you place a palm on his forearm, craning your head to look back at him. his forehead rests against your shoulder, and his eyes are closed. he’s still so warm, too warm. ”what are you doing here? you should be resting.” 

your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears can’t quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act — to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what he’d say if he wasn’t in such a feverish state; he’d hug you from behind, a low purr of what’cha up to? whispered right into your ear. then you’d jolt, and he’d giggle sheepishly, satisfied with the reaction.

but now, all he can do is cough. still leaning against you, gripping onto your midriff a little more desperately than usual. you step away from the stove, turning around, making sure your hands never leave his. looking up at him with concern in your eyes, noticing his little frown.

”c’mon, you need to lie down.” you reach for his cheek, cupping it in your palm, and he practically melts into it. enjoying the chilly sensation to his fever-ridden skin. “the soup’ll be finished soon, okay?”

”… you made,” he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. ”soup —” a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens. 

“don’t push yourself, okay? you’re really sick, dummy.” satoru pouts, but doesn’t say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. “let’s go back to your room, alright?”

but he won’t budge. he’s so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.

”honey,” you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. ”work with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed —”

”’s…” he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if he’s too sick not to be. ”… too lonely without you.” 

a moment passes. your breath hitches pitifully, at the base of your throat.

satoru is hugging you so tightly, as if you could disappear at any moment, slip away if he doesn’t keep you close. he’s holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadn’t already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly would’ve done the job.

taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, face surely aflame. satoru just nuzzles into your shoulder, too tired to say anything else, wanting to be close to you. it’s a wonder your knees don’t buckle.

gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like he’s a clingy, overgrown cat. ”sorry,” you start, just a little breathless. ”i’ll be with you, okay? won’t leave you alone. i promise.”

there’s an earnesty in your words that you doubt you could ever fake. satoru must hear it too, you think, because he finally begins to work with you. allowing you to stumble towards his bedroom, supporting his weight.

but once you make it to his bed, he still refuses to let go of you.

”toru, gotta go finish that soup. ’n make you some tea.” you rub his back, soothingly, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. shaking his head and emitting a throaty groan, only squeezing you tighter when you try to guide him under the covers. how cruel of him, to act so cute when said soup is most likely boiling over by the stove. ”please, sweetie? it won’t take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.”

another groggy huff. you’re both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still won’t let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck. 

he squirms, ever so slightly, and you get an idea.

so you keep pressing little kisses against his skin, knowing just how to make him melt. feeling him relax in your embrace, snuggle into your chest, so pliant that he lets you tuck him in — as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize what’s happening, you grab hold of the blanket, draping it over him; his half-lidded eyes blinking up at you. you press a final kiss against his forehead, grabbing the cat plushie from the edge of the bed and placing it close enough for satoru to reach if need be.

”i’ll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?” 

a teasing lilt sneaks into your voice, coaxed out by how adorable your boyfriend looks like this; baby blue eyes all droopy, snowy hair messy as it falls across the cushion he’s resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response. 

when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. he’s still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. ”i’ll be back soon, baby,” you try to soothe him. “try to sleep.”

this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like he’s arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, you’re walking back, carrying a tray with both your hands. steam wafts up from the hot soup and the warm cup of tea, shaking a little as you walk, a pair of painkillers in your pocket. just in case he needs more. an eager, pulsating joy rushes through your veins — now you can be with him, tend to him, not leave him alone in a room so like him you wish you could stay there forever. 

your footsteps are light, almost careful as they cross the threshold. satoru stirs, waiting for you to come to his side, looking like a kicked puppy in his giant bed. he tries to lift himself up, but it looks like it requires an intense amount of focus, like his elbows could buckle any second. 

”careful,” you croon, hurrying over, placing the tray on the nightstand. gently pushing him back down on the mattress. he complies almost instantly, too out of it to put up a real fight. staring at you, as if in awe.

to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead.  

his fever still hasn’t gone down. you try and muster a smile, but you’re sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. you’re at eye level with him, now.

”hey,” you start, low and comforting. you don’t want to be too loud. ”sorry it took so long.”

using what little energy he has left, satoru crosses the distance between you, inching closer and closer. noticing it, you reach a hand out to cup his cheek — lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.

”d’you think you can eat?” you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you can’t help it when he’s like this. quiet as a mouse. ”i made soup and tea… sound okay?”

he tries to make a noise. it comes out sounding like a strange blend between a dissatisfied groan and an affirming hum, but he still ends up nodding slightly. you wonder if indulging you is ingrained into his bone structure. 

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

once again, your boyfriend only hums — but he does begin to move, trying to hoist himself up, wobbling pitifully. you help, keeping him steady until his spine meets the headboard. slumped against it, he blinks slowly, feverishly.

”thank you.” you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before reaching for the cup of tea, the scent of chamomile and lavender filling your senses. you blow on it softly. ”here. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? s’ got honey in it.”

silently, he accepts the cup, bringing it to his lips. when he takes a sip, you catch the slightest hint of a grimace on his lips; even with your warning of careful, it’s hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue. 

satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he can’t say bringing himself to drink it is an easy endeavor, with how sweaty it makes him feel, how it forces him to acknowledge how painfully dry his throat is. how he can’t even taste the herbs.

he wants to be good for you, though.

so he gulps it down, slowly, managing to sip almost all of it until you decide to give him a break. compared to this morning, he already feels just a little better, a little less like he’s in a fever dream. you’re sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he can’t take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. ”thanks.”

the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadn’t realized you’d begun to miss his voice so much. 

”no problem,” you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “think you can eat something? or is that too much?”

”’course,” he croaks. there’s a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but before he can continue, he’s caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry. 

”no need to force yourself,” you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea might’ve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still don’t want him to overdo it. “just relax, satoru.”

he hums, weakly, and you reward him with a light ruffle of his hair. then you direct your attention to the soup on the nightstand, still hot, smelling of vegetable broth and fresh chicken and coriander. you bring the bowl down to your lap, and take a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it like you did with the tea. bringing it towards his lips. 

”i dunno if it’ll taste very good,” you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. ”but it should help with the fever, at least. i’d be happy if you could eat a bit.”

as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru can’t help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend what’s happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesn’t keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment he’s receiving, not putting up a fight or making a fuss. not meeting your expectant eyes.

(he feels a little shy, being spoonfed by you. how very unlike him.)

the soup does feel soothing. he thinks he can even get a sense of the taste, how hard you must’ve worked on it. but more than anything, the way you’re acting is like balm to his soul — looking at him so kindly, treating him so tenderly. offering him spoon after spoon with gentle words of encouragement. being babied in such a way makes him feel so oddly content that he’s almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around. 

yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because he’s sick, even though he hates to admit it, and you care about him. he allows the information to linger in the back of his head, for a while, wallowing in the comfort it brings him. fully comprehending it would take too much of a toll on him, in this state. 

satoru basks in the intimacy of the situation, and so do you. brushing strands of hair away when they stick to his skin, pressing your lips against his forehead to check his temperature. you keep doing it until satoru’s appetite dwindles.

”alright, that should be fine —” you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. ”uhh… how do you feel?”

”… better,” satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. ”thank you.”

for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. there’s something in satoru’s expression that catches you off guard, something that’s a little hard to identify. is it the way the light reflects off his skin, his pupils? the red, feverish flush of his skin? that flimsy little smile? or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words? 

as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you can’t help but feel like he just carved open his chest — let you peek inside his ribcage. it’s hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.

and he’s thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something you’d demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that it’s the bare minimum, the very least of what he deserves. the very least of what you could, should do for him.

you want to tell him that he’s safe, here. that there’s no need to be the strongest, whatever the hell that means, that he can let go of the burdens you know he hides from you. that he can just be your sick, terribly stubborn boyfriend.

”… okay,” is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. ”that’s good.”

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters.

”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face, and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.

”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting. ”… satoru.”

he smiles against your skin. he always does, at the sound of those words. you make him feel so terribly, terribly weak, all the time, everyday. you make him feel so human, and he can’t bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore. 

he’s still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. ”thanks for coming,” he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. “you didn’t have to.”

they’re a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but they’re honest. he is thankful — the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesn’t mind nearly as much if it’s you. he’d never tell you, but he did feel just a little lonely, when he woke up this morning. disoriented, enveloped by hot flashes of pain, in a way he’s not used to in the slightest. missing out on your date, too, that he had been looking forward to ever since you decided on a time. 

but, as if sensing it, you came to his rescue. the feeling of your lips on his skin was the first sensation he felt, when he woke up for the second time — with you by his side, this time. his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. the memory of a certain boy, of better times. 

(satoru thinks you’re nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows it’s not true. there’s no way he wouldn’t remember you.)

you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. ”i wanted to,” you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. ”… i care about you. of course i’d come.”

a light, raspy chuckle; that’s all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and there’s an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. it’s been there for a while now. but somehow, some way, you manage to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly — with every sound you make, every slight movement, every flicker of an expression on your face. everything seems so effortlessly perfect, in his eyes.

the words leave his lips before his mind can think the thought to reel them back in. 

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. he’s looking at you, eyes soft in a similar sense, layered over with adoration. you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

a chuckle of your own drips into the air, quivering slightly. terribly fond. this time, you’re the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.

”i’m the one who should be saying that to you,” you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you don’t think you’ve ever meant anything more. 

it’s so honest that it strikes a cord right down his heart, more heat than the fever can account for rushing to his cheeks. satoru hopes you don’t notice it. all he can do is squeeze your fingers, lightly, not trusting his voice not to break. silence lingers, and you only gaze at him softly. 

”… do you want anything else?” you finally ask, with a tilt of your head. still so eager to assist, racking your brain to come up with anything else to do for him. ”i’ll get it for you, no matter what it is.”

and, truthfully, satoru thinks you’ve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but he’s always been greedy, and there’s one thing, only one thing, one thing he can’t help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he can’t help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his. 

so he stretches his arms out, and looks at you with a distinctly needy glint in his eyes. his fingers move in a grabby motion, almost unconsciously, and he might’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t still so feverish. all he wants is to keep you close, to make the hollowness inside his chest dissipate. you always make that lonely feeling go away.

needless to say, you heed his request. almost instantly, your heart pumping in a steady rhythm, with this visceral desire to keep him close, to protect him. and who are you to resist, when he’s asking for it himself?

you waste no time crawling beneath the covers, situating yourself right next to your lover. only then do you finally, finally, reach your arms out to pull him close; so close you feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. his cheek meets the softness of your chest, snuggling closer, and you card a hand through his soft locks. his arms reach around your midriff, a perfect puzzle piece, and he releases an audible sigh — deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further. 

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

finally, satoru can fall asleep. with the fever still clouding his senses, and your nimble fingers smoothing along his scalp, the occasional kiss to his head as he listens to your soft heartbeat, he’s drifted off before either of you know it. melting into you, into your warm embrace, cheek squished against your chest. tiny little breaths fall from his lips, and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms. 

you’re relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping he’ll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesn’t get nearly as much rest as he should, most days. 

before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.

stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.

when you wake up, you’re acutely aware of something poking your cheek.

it’s a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams — satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.

still, you can’t be too mad. not when the real deal is right in front of you, eyes crinkled and full of warmth, a teasing smile on his lips. he’s still snuggled into your chest, all cozy and cute, as you lay on your back, propped up by a myriad of fluffy pillows. he looks up at you adoringly.

”well hello there,” he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. ”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

a series of blinks. you stir a little further, the sleepy haze of your brain beginning to slip off, slowly but surely. it takes a couple of seconds for you to remember why you’re here, what happened before you fell asleep. 

”… hey,” you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. ”how do you feel…?”

”i’m perfect. better than perfect, actually,” satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that he’s hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. ”you’re a good nurse, y’know?”

you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words — you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. “alright, that’s good,” you hum, exhaling softly. ”how long was i asleep? what time is it?”

”i woke up just now, too,” satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks must’ve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldn’t take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. it’s a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.

”it’s pretty late,” he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. ”way too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?”

another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then you’re reaching for your phone on the nightstand, and checking the time. a smile is quick to bloom on your lips, teasing and bubbly, as you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

”it’s only four, satoru.”

”way, way too late,” he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. ”god knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour — much too unsafe. i’m just looking out for you, baby.”

”of course,” you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. ”you know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?”

”well, of course! i wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite nurse.”

his eyes betray his words, gleaming with a sudden colour of excitement, all glitter and relief. a joy that clogs up his throat like seafoam, and spills out from his lips. you look down at him, for a second, unable to resist the temptation — reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand. 

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didn’t know you’d been holding in. ”it really has gone down,” you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. “that’s good.”

satoru huffs. ”i said i was perfect, right? don’t you trust me, my sweet lover?”

”i never know with you,” you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. “you said you were just fine this morning, too.”

”i was!” he whines. piling up lie after lie. “i totally could’ve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.”

”right. of course.” you shoot him a lopsided grin. ”you just don’t wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?”

”see? no faith.” a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. ”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

”oh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?”

”well, that too! but it was mostly me.”

a sigh. “whatever you say.” then you’re smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. ”i’m just glad you’re better. i was worried.”

satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it — your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.

”you really thought a lil’ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?” he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. “c’mon, now, baby.”

another lighthearted roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.”

”don’t you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?”

”don’t think i didn’t notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.”

”hehe.”

a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

”alright, my honeybee,” he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. ”time to go. we can still get those crêpes if we hurry.”

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought you’d be alright with letting him leave. ”you’re… not going out today,” you deadpan. “you know that, right?”

this time, he’s the one who blinks. once, then twice.

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

”what?” satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he can’t believe you’d even suggest something so outrageous. ”i’m all better, though!”

you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? ”your fever isn’t gone, satoru. it’s just not horrible anymore. you’ll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.”

”i won’t! seriously!” he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. ”i feel good enough to run a marathon!”

”you’re not doing that either,” you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you can’t let this charade go on for too long. ”come on, satoru — don’t be so stubborn. we can go there another time.”

”but —”

”besides, didn’t you say i have to spend the night because it’s too late to go outside? remember the creeps?” there’s amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. ”what if they get us?”

”well, they obviously won’t get you while i’m there,” he huffs. ”what, you don’t think i can protect you properly? you’re hurting me, angel.”

you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, he’s stubborn. you’re so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

”sa-to-ru,” you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. ”we’re not going outside. end of discussion.”

”why not, though?” he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. ”don’t you wanna go on a date with me? you don’t want to see me happy, is that it?”

you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. ”you’re such a baby.”

”your baby.”

another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.

“can’t we just have our date here?” you suggest, after some contemplation. ”i bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isn’t that enough?”

satoru’s eyes bore into yours. contemplative, as he lets the silence linger, gears turning inside his mind. he wants to go outside with you, wants to hold your hand and hear you hum happily as you bite into your crêpe; wants to steal a bite when you’re not looking.

but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.

(he’s maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)

so, finally, he sighs — softly. in resignation. 

”… well, i guess that’s fine,” he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. ”i wanted crêpes, though…”

”i’ll get you your crepes,” you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. ”i can go buy ’em myself and come back. then we —”

”no, no, no!” satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. ”you’re not going anywhere. not without me!”

a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. ”then i’ll… order crêpes, or something. or we’ll eat ice cream today and then crêpes when you’re better. does that sound okay?”

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. ”instead of the crêpes, i want a kiss.”

you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. ”so convoluted. you can just ask, you know?” you don’t give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. ”whatever.” 

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, he’s still pouting when you pull away. ”i meant on the lips,” he explains, as if it was obvious. 

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

”so?” satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. ”you won’t kiss me anymore? just cause i’ve got a tiny, miniscule fever?” he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. ”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

another sigh leaves your lips. he’s so ridiculous. you can’t really deny him, though.

”… fine. it’s your fault if i get sick, though.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.

but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long you’ve pulled away. ”— there. happy now?” 

”for now,” he quips, equally teasing. he’s cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days. 

”that’ll do,” you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. ”wanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?”

you don’t really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. you’ve never seen him turn down anything sweet — and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy. 

”got it,” you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. “there’s soup left, too. but maybe you’d rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.”

satoru gapes. ”you kidding? that was the best soup i’ve ever had!” 

his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. ”satoru. you don’t have to lie.”

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!”

you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?”

satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.

”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

you know he’s just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d like — crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe. 

as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. ”well, you can have more of it later, then,” you make a move to get off the bed. ”let’s go eat ice cream.”

after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.

”you should probably get a change of clothes,” you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. ”you’ve been wearing that shirt all day.”

”oh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?” satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. ”you know you can always just ask.” 

you huff out a sardonic breath. ”yeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.” you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. “and some pants.”

”you don’t like the underwear?” he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. “this is an expensive brand, you know?”

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands,” you scoff, a little snarky. ”just — put some comfortable clothes on, okay? i’ll go get the ice cream ready.”

”wait!” he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. “you’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?” 

“… okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.”

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. you won’t give him the satisfaction.

when he’s done, he’s wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. it’s a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.

satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you don’t put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.

you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; you’re much too soft for him. and he’s still sick, even if he’s doing better. you couldn’t resist him even if you tried.

so you opt to indulge him.

”baby, i think my fever’s going up again…” satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. ”can you check?”

you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. ”this is the fifth time you’ve asked me to check your temperature, toru.”

”just wanna make sure,” he whines. “please?”

with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead — humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasn’t gone up. just like it hadn’t gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.

”you’re good.”

”oh, thank god,” he exhales. ”are you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.”

”satoru,” you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. ”you can just ask me if you want a kiss.”

”a kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesn’t worsen.”

he’s grinning, and you’re rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well you’re going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.

”hmm…” you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ”nope. definitely still the same temperature.” 

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

”hmm. okay, got it.” he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. “that’s good. just wanted to check, you know?”

”of course.”

”might need you to check again soon. just to be safe,” he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you don’t bother hiding yours.

”got it, got it,” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. “anything for my sick baby.” 

satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you can’t help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movie’s almost over, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore.

”your room is very like you.”

it’s sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. you’re both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.

”… oh? how so?”

“well…” you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriend’s hair. ”when i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?”

satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk. 

”but then i went into your room, and — it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.” satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. ”maybe it doesn’t make sense? i guess i’ve just been thinking about it.”

he closes his eyes.

there’s something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell you’re being sincere. it’s something he likes about you — that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you aren’t sure that he’ll return the favour. he likes to think it’s rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesn’t think he’s quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isn’t something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isn’t afraid that you’ll use it against him.

you’re a comfort; his safe haven. a place to rest his weary head. maybe you always have been, even before he really got to know you.

”i like your place more,” he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. ”it feels very… you.”

a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. ”how so?”

and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. ”it’s… homely. warm,” his smile only grows. “and awfully sentimental.”

he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. it’s warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you don’t think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin he’s shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you can’t look away.

you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, you’ve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. it’s all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.

”you’re cute,” satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

you can’t look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you aren’t sure if they’re conscious or not. it’d be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. it’s the one thing you’re sure of.

this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe it’s something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.

”… well,” he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. ”maybe i will, then.”

you reach something. 

you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. it’s there and then it isn’t, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then —

a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.

(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)

…

satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. ”this movie’s awful, huh?”

”yeah,” you’re quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. ”it’s good in a so bad it’s good kinda way, though.”

he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasn’t been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking — he’s not sure he could take it.

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

his immune system is strong, there’s no denying that. but more than anything, he simply can’t afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state — stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended — makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though he’s gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.

it’s funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasn’t something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. he’s satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.

but then you came along. you came to his rescue, spring in your pockets, and you took care of him, with what he knows to be love. genuine, earnest concern for his wellbeing. his happiness.

yeah — it’s funny, for sure. satoru never thought he’d ever enjoy being sick. 

yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasn’t kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.

you’re so good to him. there’s nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. he’s glad you came over, after all. glad you’re so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru can’t help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude — what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?

”i love you so much,” he blurts out, practically beaming. now you’re in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.

”where did that come from?” you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last — your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.

”just felt like saying it!” he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. ”i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. ”my whole world.”

for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until you’re pushing him away. it’s overwhelming, but you’ve never minded. this is how you measure his love — little gaps between too much and never enough.

”… you’re not gonna say it back?” comes a whine, right by your ear. now he’s nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. he’s being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest. 

”i love you too, satoru,” you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. ”my whole universe.”

satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when he’s got you in his lap like this. if he could, he’d keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be. 

even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and you’re watching a good movie, and you’re gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, he’ll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then he’ll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and you’ll grumble all sweetly, and he’ll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. you’ll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today. 

if the fever’s gone by then, you’ll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crêpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then he’ll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.

living together with you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. it wouldn’t be bad at all, actually. 

the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more. maybe he’ll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal — but if he has to, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. you’re worth the emotional toll.

you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what he’s thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks that’s for the best. he knows you’ll indulge him, at the end of the day.

maybe he’ll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.

[joelmillersmunch]

harvest moon (joel miller x reader)

Summary: Joel Miller can't keep his eyes off of you. And damn, that ass is nice.

Ratings/Warnings: Fluff, some cussing, ass staring. Mostly just Joel Miller being in love and Tommy Miller being a little shit. Age gap, but both reader and Joel are grown adults (like reader is 30s Joel is early 50s) Joel has some anxiety, but nothing too descriptive. Canon divergence. I hope that's everything!

Word count: 845

A/N: I was listening to Harvest Moon by Neil Young the other day and thought to myself, "Joel Miller Joel Miller Joel Miller Joel Miller Joel Miller." Yeah, you get the gist. This was in my drafts from a few weeks ago and so I thought I would finish it. I hope you like it! Just something short and sweet. :) Imagine this gif but as Joel Miller and his beautiful greying hair....

“Darlin’, you know I don’t wanna do this either, but we gotta,” Joel says, a slightly annoyed gruff in his voice. It’s not like he’s annoyed with you, but he’s getting tired of pleading to get this show on the road. He hears you call back something from upstairs and he rolls his eyes, shuffling his way to the bathroom in which you’re currently occupying. 

“Joel,” You start when he enters through the door. “I don’t mind going, and you know that. What I mind is you not tellin’ me till twenty minutes ago!” You say with a scowl. Your eyes lock through the mirror and he softens.

“”M sorry, sweet girl. Tommy didn’t tell me till we were leaving work today. I had about as much of a heads up as you did,” He says. You can tell he’s sorry, so with a soft huff you turn to face him.

“Well, he can’t be mad if we’re a few minutes late then. I’ll be done shortly, honey. Please stop stressing,” You say, giving him a soft kiss to his cheek. And just like that, everything was okay again. He needed you to remind him that everything is okay. I mean, the world is still ending, but everything is okay. Ellie and Tommy are safe. You are safe. He can’t ask for much more than that. He’s been having some anxiety issues lately, but you’ve been his saving grace. You make everything okay. With a nod, he leaves you in the bathroom alone. Sure enough, you emerge from the bathroom just a few minutes later ready to go. You grab your coats and make your way over to the bar.

Joel can’t keep his eyes off of you. All night he’s been staring you down from a seat at the bar, lightly sipping a beer. You’ve been dancing all evening with your friends..and Tommy. It was per his request for his birthday. “One dance, please. It’ll be so fun!” The younger brother pleads. You laugh and roll your eyes at him. He looks charming in his get up paired with a handsome cowboy hat on top of his head. He’s always been fond of you, but you always laugh it off and tell him to find someone his own age. He’d usually laugh and tell you to do the same, being that Joel is quite a few years older than you. Joel would usually mumble something and pout as you and Tommy continued to poke fun at Joel’s expense. You all know that Tommy’s crush isn’t serious, so you agree and follow your brother in law to the floor. 

The song changes as the two of you find a spot, and a lively dance song starts. Joel watches the two of you from the bar. God, your ass looks so good in those jeans. They fit perfectly, sculpting your hips and figure so well that he can’t help but swoon over you. He watches as you and Tommy hold hands, swinging in circles like two teenagers. Tommy places the cowboy hat on your head and gives a loud, “YEEEEEEEEHAWWWWW,” across the bar. Joel laughs as you buckle over in a fit of giggles. Joel stands up, finishes his beer and slowly makes his way to you as the song comes to an end. 

“Alright, give her back to me.” He says playfully, but you know part of him is serious. Tommy laughs and gives you a pat on your arm.

“Thanks, darlin’. If you get tired of my brother any time soon, you know where to find me.” He says and shuffles away laughing. Joel rolls his eyes and pulls you closer. The next song begins, the simple guitar strum taking him back to a simpler time. Harvest Moon by Neil Young plays overhead softly, and the two of you begin to sway along. 

“That fuckin’ guy, I swear,” He says and you can’t help but laugh at him. He stares down at you, confused as to what you’re making such a fuss about. “What are you lookin’ at?” He asks. 

“You are such a silly man, Joel Miller,” You say and smile at him. You grab the back of his neck to pull his face closer to yours. “There ain’t no man better than you. I want you. I am yours.” You say, and you take the cowboy hat from your head and place it on his. He chuckles and pulls you even closer, savoring the moment. 

Because I’m still in love with you

I wanna see you dance again

Because I’m still in love with you

On this harvest moon

He leans down, cowboy hat slipping down his head, and gives you a slow kiss. The harmonica and guitar sing in the background. Everything feels perfect. 

“My girl, I love you,” He says. He feels you smile against his lips, never taking yours away. “I love you, too.”

Because I’m still in love with you

I wanna see you dance again

Because I’m still in love with you

On this harvest moon

A/N: dividers by @saradika-graphics thanks so much!!

[earthtooz]

x : KISS ME ! :*+ﾟ whisper what your heart shows, all i want is you

in which: a stealth mission gone awry leads to a chain of events (or kisses) where you question your relationship with bakugou.

warnings: 8K WORDS, FLUFF WITH ANGST, so much kissing lmfao, slowburn, sfw steamy scenes + suggestive ending- starts intense and ends intense, pining idiots, lovesick idiots, soooo much swearing because it's bakugou, platonic friendships with todoroki and midoriya, all characters aged 22+, gn!pro-hero!reader, bad writing pls excuse me.

a/n: SEVENTH ATTEMPT AT POSTING THIS!!!! GOD this took six days to write, i am exhausted. if you don't like it i will cry bc this drained me, goodness, so reblogs appreciated! i'm so insecure abt this fic so pls tell me i did well, anyways. missed writing for my skrunkly boi!

# ONE ! - the first kiss. 

this was not ideal.

you listen with widened eyes and a racing heart as you’re pressed against the brick wall of a dingey alleyway, bakugou’s warm palms holding your hips tightly as his chest is pushed up against yours.

he is not looking at you, but instead, looking off to the side so he can hear a little clearer. on the other hand, all you could see was bakugou’s killer jawline, his perfectly smooth skin, and one half of his violent scowl. 

the silence is disturbing, all you can hear is your heartbeat and bakugou’s heavy breaths, anticipation weighing down the air as you both try to suppress your breathing.

then it comes. heavy footsteps. multiple of them. they’re running your way and at this rate, you’ll be caught by the enemy. what, with bakugou’s hulking figure and the hoodie that just barely covered his spikey blond hair, one glance to their left and you would be caught. 

this was no good. there’s no way to get out of this alleyway in time either without attracting attention and being caught.

having a stealth mission gone awry was really embarrassing, especially when you’re pretty sure that bakugou can feel your heartbeat reverberating against him. you hope that he chalks it up to the nervousness you were currently feeling rather than the effect his proximity had on you. or, just the general effect he had on you.

“they’re coming,” you whisper so that only bakugou can hear. he finally looks you in the eye, sneering with fury in his crimson eyes. you almost flinch from the intensity of his gaze.

“i fucking know,” he retorts. “our only options are fight or flight, i’m thinking we take them.” 

with a drawled out exhale, an idea pops into your head. he’s definitely not going to approve, however.

“i’m gonna kiss you and you’re gonna need to like it.”

the footsteps are getting closer, you can now hear mumbling of the enemies chasing after you and bakugou. their leader is shouting commands and the subordinates are obeying, responding in kind with an ‘sir!’.

“excuse me?”

he’s so beautiful up close. 

“just, trust me.” 

more shouts, more thundering footsteps, all silenced when you lean in to catch bakugou’s lips with yours. his exclamation of surprise is muffled before he promptly melts into you, hands now travelling up your waist as your arms wound around his neck. there’s an element of stiffness still as his mouth moves against yours, but you doubt you’re any better. 

this wasn’t your first mission together, and most likely won’t be your last. however, the missions he normally accompanied you on were ambush, patrol, and dealing with general threats. stealth missions were a completely different story because bakugou was the loudest hero to ever exist. 

so what was he thinking when he insisted on going along with you? for safety? he was the threat-

“jump,” his words cut through your thoughts like a warm knife through butter and with the way his hands sneak down to the back of your thighs, you can’t help but give in to his demands like a programmed machine. 

you wrap your legs around his waist, deepening the kiss whilst doing so.

bakugou presses you harder against the wall, ignoring the way his mouth smirks against yours as one of your hands go to cradle his jaw. you’re careful to not remove the hood covering his very obvious blond mop of hair.

you’re letting him lead you through the kiss and it’s intense to say the least. you’re getting increasingly light-headed, but no part of you wants this to stop, screaming with bliss as he avidly seeks your lips, even when you lean back for a short moment to catch your breath.

for an interaction purposefully orchestrated, he’s really getting into it. would he kiss all his coworkers like this when they asked?

several heavy footsteps pass by and you’re just in your right mind to hear someone say ‘get a room’ before fading away. you were safe, you could run and make your escape now- a message bakugou hasn’t yet comprehended despite how honed his senses are. with the last bit of conscious you have, you physically drag his face away from yours (otherwise you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop him). 

there’s a moment of silence where you both just stare into the other’s eyes, lips swollen and eyes wide with the realisation of what just happened.

“they’re gone,” you whisper, tearing apart the post-kiss euphoria. “put me down.”

with a grunt, he obliges, allowing you to slip away from him and into the main road again. 

“let’s go whilst we have the chance. get ready to fly, blasty.”

bakugou is surprisingly silent for the remainder of the mission. 

# TWO ! - the fleeting kiss.

surprisingly, there hasn’t been much mention of the incident you had with bakugou ever since you returned from your stealth mission. intel was acquired, shared with the people who needed it, and nothing was discussed again. to be frank, you don’t know how to feel about it.

on one hand, you’re relieved to not be able to relive the experience again but on the other, you’re disappointed to not be able to relive the experience again.

it’s been back to normal with bakugou. the occasional middle finger in the hallways, sticking your tongue at him during meetings, going into his office to bug him and him being very irritated despite not having the heart to remove you. everything fell right back into place, with an obvious piece now awkwardly attaching itself to the puzzle. 

when you simply think about what happened, your heart begins to race uncontrollably and you’re rendered stupid for a minute as you have to collect yourself. 

which is why you were throwing your head back in frustration as the cursor of your laptop blinks back at you, a sentence half-written in mocking.

“fuck off,” you whisper to yourself, punching your head even though you knew it would do nothing to stop the replay of the memory. your eyes were beginning to feel sore, mind slowly entering a state of numbness as the idea of taking a quick nap on your desk seemed more tempting than ever. 

oh well, it wouldn’t hurt.

pushing aside your laptop, keyboard, and papers, your submission to sleep is quick and effortless, not even complaining about the roughness of your desk jabbing into your chest as you doze off. 

the door to the office opens, revealing bakugou standing in the doorway holding some files and a cup of tea- your favourite, to be precise. he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, swearing that you were in your office, except the sight of a totally barren room greeted him made him stop in his tracks. where could you have gone? 

then, he hears breathing coming from behind your desk and as the blond approaches your space, he can’t help the sigh escaping him at the sight of your figure hunched over your work, head rested on your hands. you were just hidden behind your office desk and the massive company monitors. 

if being a hero doesn’t kill him first, then how adorable you were just might.

“you have a couch in your office for a reason, dumbass,” bakugou breathes to no one in particular. 

placing the items in his hand on your desk, the pro-hero takes his time analysing the best way to smoothly pick you up without waking you. assessing the situation in record time, he slowly wounds his arms behind your legs and shoulders, effortlessly picking you up to walk the short distance to the couch.

it’s with an unmatched gentleness that he places you down on the piece of furniture, briefly observing how peaceful you seem. bakugou didn’t have it in him to be mad at you for slacking off. with how you dedicate so much of yourself to your duties, he knows first hand just how hard you work. 

he’s seen it since knowing you at u.a and he sees it now as you work at his agency.

he hopes you take care of yourself properly as well.

it hits bakugou that he still has work to be done and that he really should get back to his office to minimise some of the load. so, with a grunt, he stands up.

as a bid of farewell, bakugou places a hand on the arm of the couch before leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a second before pulling away, retreating back into the hallways where his agency’s top-heroes worked. 

the domesticity of this encounter leaves him wanting more. an innate desire to care for you when times get rough settling stubbornly in his gut; and as a pro hero, times always get rough. however, bakugou knows he’s capable of holding up your load simultaneously to his, he just hopes you can understand that as well despite being relentlessly independent.

# THREE ! - the kiss to silence you. 

you meet your gaze in the full-length mirror of your office with a huff, adjusting the neckline of your attire as you turn around to check your backside in the reflection too. 

this outfit was mediocre at best and you didn’t feel stunning in it at all. there was no way it would match up to the extravagant outfits you’ve shown up to hero galas and balls in the past, but since the gala was literally tomorrow, and you’ve delayed getting a dress to this point, it was impossible to go for another fitting.

“y/n, have you got the signed files- whoa.”

you meet bakugou’s fiery gaze in the mirror, turning around to greet him with a shy smile, somewhat embarrassed that he showed up at the exact moment you were all dressed up. immediately, you try to play it cool but scolded yourself internally for ignoring the gut feeling that someone would walk in whilst you were trying on your outfit- you just did not preempt for it to be the most attractive man in the building. 

“uh yeah, i actually do have them. what do you need them for?” you ask, shyly using your hands to cover some parts of yourself despite bakugou already having seen a lot of your skin because of accidents and injuries on missions. 

“i gotta send them off to deku’s agency,” he mutters, keeping his gaze low as he treks over to your desk. if you weren’t too caught up in your own feelings of humiliation, you would’ve seen the way his ears flared red, the tint spreading to his cheeks.

then you suddenly blurt out a question for him. “do you think i look good?” 

you meet his gaze in the mirror again, subtly feeling a part of you swell in pride at the way his eyes rake over your figure.

“you look amazing. is the dress for tomorrow?” he begins to approach you, stopping when he’s right behind you. 

“yeah. i don’t really like it that much.”

“don’t be ridiculous. you’re a sight to behold.”

“thank you,” you mutter half-heartedly, lips twisting with uncertainty. giving bakugou the necklace in your hands that complimented the bracelets you adorned, he immediately understands the message. you try not to react when his warm hands come in contact with your neck. “i just don’t think this outfit is flattering though.”

with nimble fingers, he clasps the chain successfully. “why?” 

“the colour, the shape, it doesn’t feel right, and i really hate it. i would go out and try to buy another dress but there’s so little time, every appointment is booked because i was stupid enough to avoid getting-”

a kiss behind your ear silences you effortlessly and you feel your breath being stolen when notice bakugou craning his neck down to meet your height. 

“calm down, you’re beginning to ramble,” he whispers and you just stare at him with an agape mouth, something that causes him to smirk. then, his hands find their purchase on your waist and it takes a lot of your resolve to not melt into his warmth.

ever since the daring kiss you shared on the mission, bakugou’s been less and less conservative about the affection he shows you. from openly admiring you when having lunch in the agency cafeteria, to manhandling you freely, to leaving kisses, you don’t know if your heart can keep up with his sudden change in behaviour.

worst part is, you can’t tell if it means anything to him like it does to you.

bakugou is japan’s most desired bachelor. maybe apart from his attitude, there is no public figure adored more than the blond who is standing right behind you. he’s always been known to do things his own way. no rules or preconceived notions can hold him back from doing what he wants. perhaps his shamelessness is a new symbol of how comfortable he is around you, 

you just wish it could be something more; something more… intimate.

but you could never reach bakugou, could you?

“i think you look beautiful but my opinion doesn’t matter. you want a new dress?” asks the blond and you nod wordlessly. “i know a place. let me give them a call, owner won’t ever say no to me after i saved her from her. got so many last minute pieces from her store. i’ll cover the bill too, just make sure you like what you wear.” 

he walks away with new swagger in his stride and you can only stare after him, dumbfounded. 

well, at least your problems were solved. 

bakugou might become a new problem. 

# FOUR ! - the kiss of adoration. 

the nerves in the limousine were uncontainable. as your sidekicks chattered amongst themselves, trying to rid any anxieties for the long night ahead, you couldn’t help but recall your first gala a few years ago. a celebration to commemorate the heroes of japan and everything they do for the peace and safety was always a big deal.

however, having done this several times ever since graduating from U.A few years ago, there’s little for you to be nervous about.

funny that you were only a few years older than your youngest sidekick (who was 18 years old), yet you were already exhausted by all the extravaganza and decorum. 

as the limousine approaches the drop off area where all the paparazzi were waiting, it didn’t take long for a tremendous tattle of inaudible words and shouts to erupt from them given that the windows were not totally tinted, meaning they could identify who was inside. being one of the biggest hero agencies would have this effect, especially when you were representing the name of #2 himself. but, even if it wasn’t bakugou stepping out of the car himself, your rank still placed you remarkably in the greedy eyes of the public.

as your sidekicks file out one by one, with camera flashes practically every millisecond, the hype only worsens when you emerge.

the paparazzi are respectful enough to avoid the path where heroes were walking by and as you wave, smile, and bow to all of them, compliments of how stunning you looked and shouts of ‘look here!’ all faded into the crowd. then, you made it out.

“well, if it isn’t y/n,” a familiar, baritone calls out from behind you. 

at the sight of a kind, smiling face, you can’t help your grin from breaking out. “shouto. to what do i owe the honour?”

“no need to be so formal with me,” your dual-quirked friend says with open arms, ones that you rush into quite eagerly. shouto always gave such welcoming hugs, you’ve been weak to them since second year of u.a. you ignore the camera flashes in your direction. “i’m just happy to see you here tonight.”

“i’m happy to see you too.”

“knowing you, you probably want to escape from here as soon as possible through any means possible.”

“you are correct.”

“i hope you have room for another escapee.”

his questions causes you to recall fondly to the many galas and events both you and todoroki slipped out of- a feat easier said than done, especially when people are constantly on the look out for their top heroes. 

“i don’t know, i like to go solo,” you say with faux contemplation, “but you’re the only exception.”

“well, i’m honoured, especially since you look gorgeous tonight. your outfit is beautiful,” compliments todoroki before grabbing your hand to spin you around, an action you comply with readily and has you both chuckling to yourselves.

“thank you, shouto. you look irresistible as always.”

before he can reply, a familiar mop of green hair joins both yours and todoroki’s side and when you turn to see the face of the newcomer, midoriya’s smiling and bright expression greets you. he immediately forgoes all greetings. 

“y/n! you look like you came from a runway,” midoriya marvels before embracing you in a side hug, repeating the same action to the half-and-half hero in front of you. “stunning as always. you too, todoroki!”

you wave his compliment off, flattered at his honesty. “thank you, midoriya. i only managed to pull this look together yesterday if i’m being completely real,” you say with a small chuckle, “but you look very handsome tonight. love this suit, the colour fits you well!”

todoroki nods, “i agree with y/n, and, congratulations on your agency’s latest partnership.” 

“thank you! i’m excited to see what will come from it, hopefully a lot of good things because-”

“oi, cut it with the rambling, nerd!” 

ah, there he is. you never could really miss bakugou’s presence.

“you’re already beginning to soil my night,” the blond continues when he emerges from behind midoriya. they’ve grown to about the same height now, with midoriya still two centimetres or so shorter than bakugou, but it’s always funny to see how the latter acts as if he’s all big and intimidating (as if todoroki isn’t taller than him). 

“ah, kacchan!” midoriya greets, making room for the blond to fit in the circle as kirishima trails behind him. 

as soon as the red-haired notices you, he gawks, mouth and eyes wide. “y/n!” exclaims the hardening hero. “looking gorgeous, man!.”

“that’s what we all said,” todoroki deadpans and you feel a little flustered from all the eyes on you- especially with the addition of a certain crimson pair. “should we all head in now? the paparazzi is getting on my nerves.”

“sure,” agrees deku, who turns to you with an extended arm. “need any help?”

you’re about to take his offer and hold on before he’s unceremoniously pushed to the side by bakugou, who offers you his arm instead with a mean look directed to midoriya. a glance of knowing is shared amongst the rest of your former classmates as they all make their way up the stairs.

“i thought midoriya was perfectly capable of helping me himself,” you chuckle before latching on to his forearm. 

bakugou scoffs. “not as capable as me.”

“sure, because only the great, pro-hero dynamight can help me up the stairs.” 

“damn straight.” his pride is undeniably endearing, even if it’s a little pointless at times. 

as he guides you up the stairs, your heart flutters a little at the way he holds you so delicately, all of his attention directed upon you and your safety. when you reach the top, you’re about to enter the ball room and let go of bakugou to talk to more people, but it seems like the blond has other plans.

with a small tug, you’re directed back to him, about to collide with his chest until a hand on your hips stops your momentum.

“the stylist i gave you worked, huh?” he whispers lowly.

“yes she did. you really saved me,” you respond, feeling your heart skip a beat at the way his eyes rake over your body for a moment before he’s meeting your gaze again. “you think i look good?”

“i think you look fuckin’ breathtaking.”

you keen at his authentic compliment, trying not to let him see how it effected you. “well, this is all thanks to you so i owe you- money wise and everything else.” 

“you can repay me by bein’ my date for the night,” he suggests, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb before bringing it up to his lips, placing a delicate kiss there as he maintains eye contact.

you gulp, agreeing before you can even think about the magnitude of his question.

“you with me? you seem a little far away,” asks bakugou. far away was just the beginning of it.

shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you nod wordlessly before grabbing his arm to pull him towards the bustling crowd of heroes. every group if briefly silenced when you and the explosive hero pass by, eyes lingering a little too long at the arm that bakugou has around your waist.

this feels surreal. 

he stands behind you like an intimidating shadow as you both speak to a range of people from support tech ambassadors, business consultants, aspiring heroes and sponsors- a crowd that only grows with the years you’ve been working in the industry. 

surprisingly, no one is brave enough to question what is happening between you and bakugou upfront. 

eventually, everyone moves into a separate hall where dinner would be served. since you and bakugou were representing the same agency, your names were already on the same table. when realising that you were seated across from him, he scowls and shamelessly swaps the tags around, not at all remorseful when he sits down on his assigned seat and pats the vacant spot next to him. with an eye roll, you oblige dutifully. 

“hold still,” you command the blond before reaching over to fix his tie, tightening it and aligning it properly before sitting back in satisfaction at your efforts. “there. handsome and proper.”

“handsome, huh?” bakugou teases with a shit-eating grin and you scoff, pushing his face away jokingly. you mutter an unimpressed ‘whatever’, ignoring the laughter that rips from the blond. 

moving the conversation along, you sit up in your seat a little bit. “did you see who was sitting at our table when you moved everything around?”

“just a bunch of old geezers. there’s that one marketing manager of some support gear business who kept bugging me last year to consider partnering with him,” he scoffs. 

“your luck, huh?” 

“fuck off, i’m just gonna ignore him for the whole night.”

“sure, do whatever you want, big guy.”

“i will. these extras don’t matter when i’ve already hired all the best in their industries. you’re my first example of that.”

your heart flutters at his recognition, about to respond with a quip when all of a sudden, your table guests materialise in front of you. all of them take their respective seats, settling down with formal greetings as you adjust yourself as well. only bakugou was unmoving, leaning against the back of his chair whilst merely staring every down as they appeared; an attitude very in character for him.

the night goes along rather smoothly. you do majority of the talking, forcing bakugou to respond and answer questions here and there, which he begrudgingly does. at least the people that were on your table were talkative themselves and could converse amongst themselves, leaving you with enough mental space to not solely concentrate on the way the explosion hero was holding your hand under the table.

the occasional caresses he placed along the back of it was enough to slowly drive you insane. he was being really shameless about the whole physical affection ordeal. 

he acts similar to that a boyfriend should and the canniness has made you woozy. so much so that it strains your throat to breathe, hurts your heart to think about and makes your whole being itch with want.

what cemented your doom was the way he was willing to swap your plate with his if yours was a dish you didn’t like. he would offer to take the ingredients you weren’t fond of and give you the ones on his plate that you were. as if that wasn’t the most endearing thing he could do this evening, he would tell you that there’s food around your mouth before wiping it away. you owe a ‘thank you’ to mitsuki and masaru for raising him to be like this. 

when the final dish of dinner was served, many jumped from their seats with the opportunity to mingle around; something that occurred at your table too to your relief. as the representatives all place their business cards in front of you, you farewell them with a friendly smile before slipping the small slips into bakugou’s shirt pocket, something he allows you to do.

“dynamight,” an authoritative voice comes from behind and when you both turn around to see who the instigator is, you’re a little surprised to see a well-dressed man in proper business man attire. he resembled tony stark- even down to his goatee and moustache. “pleasure to meet you. my name is yuu noguchi and i am a specialist in support gear. may i have a second of your time?” 

your eyes widen in recognition at the name. the man standing in front of you was currently one of the most desired support gear directors in the industry and apparently, had the skills to benefit almost every hero, no matter how difficult their requests were. it was thanks to his quirk, something about limitless intelligence.

so it wasn’t only because of the tony stark resemblance that you recognised him. 

bakugou glances at you, inquiring for your approval which you give by ushering him out of his seat. as you watch him strut away with the yuu beside him, you can’t help but feel relieved because now your heart could have a chance to calm down and give your lungs a moment to breathe.

“am i right to assume that you and mr bakugou are an item?” comes a voice from your left.

it’s the old geezer your date was complaining about earlier. somehow he sneaked his way from across the table to right next to you, leaning over now-empty plates of food as he gives you a look that shakes you to your core. not in the good way that bakugou can do.

“only for the night,” comes your curt reply. “i am his date to this gala.” 

“fascinating.”

“what you find so interesting about that?”

“perhaps you’d rather i not say, but, to be truthful, my theory has been plaguing my mind all night.”

raising an eyebrow at him was his only indication that you wish for him to expand on his point.

he obliges. “well, you of course know about dynamite’s competitive spirit, and how he has been constantly battling deku in all realms of hero work? rankings, the amount of employees, even popularity.”

was mentioning midoriya necessary? their past history has never been the cleanest, and although you knew bakugou wished he could have a clean slate with the one for all user, sometimes their relationship brought a little awkwardness to conversations.

“i cannot help but assume that, in order to pass deku once again, he is using you to his advantage?”

you can’t help exposing your emotions through your microexpressions; something he catches onto. 

bakugou? using you? 

“right now deku is the hottest talk of the hero world with his latest partnership because of all the humanitarian advocacy he is partaking in. he’s gaining a lot of fans too. perhaps bakugou’s only way of upstaging midoriya is by using his well-liked status to the public a juicy scoop on his potential, new relationship, especially with one of japan’s favourite heroes. no doubt it will boost his name in the media, and give him a momentary push over the edge.”

you narrow your eyes at what his suggestion and although it pained you to admit, it had some credibility behind it. it even justified why bakugou has been acting weirdly attentive with you, and if you recalled properly, his sudden change in behaviour began around the news of midoriya’s initiative. 

but he’s not like that, right? your relationship can’t be reduced to simply article headlines and traction… right?

“that’s just my take as a specialist in the hero industry, specifically when it comes to brand and image,” the man ends, placing his hands on the table before standing up. “i hope the rest of the night treats you splendidly.”

when he waddles away, you’re left sitting at the same, empty tables. whilst the exterior may seem relaxed and collected, a whirlpool of thoughts erupt within, your thoughts jumbling and fumbling over one another.

without thinking, you end up at a table marked by todoroki’s agency logo, desperately searching for your dual-haired friend. in your haste, you didn’t preempt knocking into a body with hardened muscles and when you look up to see who was the glorified wall, you breathe a sigh of relief when it’s todoroki’s concerned face you see.

maybe fate was kind to you tonight.

“something wrong, y/n?” he asks in that caring tone of his.

“yes,” comes your quick and frantic reply. todoroki sees right through that frazzled expression of yours.

“is it bakugou?”

“yes- can we get out of here? i don’t care about propriety right now.”

“hold on, don’t get too ahead of yourself. the media will have a storm if they see us together after you’ve been accompanying dynamight the whole night.” 

“you’re right.” you’re could get a headache from simply imagining the repercussions you’re going to go through with your pr team if todoroki didn’t have his head on his shoulders. “do you have any solutions?”

“i could cause a fire and start an evacuation?”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“i was kidding. there is an authorised only back door escape near the bathrooms. i think it leads to the back of the building. does that sound better?”

“much. thank you, todoroki, i really appreciate it.”

“no problem. i’m looking forward to having a gossip ‘sesh’ about bakugou.”

you snort unceremoniously, amused by him and his deliberate choice of trendy language. if he was trying to cheer you up, it was working. 

following his instructions, you are more than relieved to see that the back door did indeed, lead to the back gardens of the site where gala was held. if you were correct, the parking lot for chauffeurs would be on the right side. 

minutes later, you find yourself ranting to todoroki, taking it from the whole beginning and recounting every, minute detail of the journey.

“-and then we kissed during our stealth mission which only made it worse because then i realised i was flipping in love with him!”

“only just then?” asks todoroki with a questioning look. 

“look, i had the hots for him in third year because of his growth spurt, i didn’t like him so don’t give me that look,” you justify, silencing him with a finger in his face. “anyways-”

“-is bakugou a good kisser?”

you press your lips together, unsure of how to answer without sounding ridiculous but really, your silence was the answer todoroki needed. he tilts his head to the side slightly, entertained by your sudden flustered behaviour before redirecting one hundred percent of his attention back your direction.

“find out yourself,” you finally quip. despite how delayed your comeback was, the half-and-half pro-hero still laughs. “so after that mission, bakugou’s been acting weird with me ever since. everything he’s been doing is just so unlike him. i find him staring at me from time to time and when i catch him, he doesn’t look away, just does that stupid, smug smirk of his! he’s been more handsy, and, this is the most confusing part.” 

“yesterday, i didn’t have an adequate outfit for tonight’s gala. i had something planned but it just wasn’t right and i was really down about it. well, bakugou walked in my office when i was trying it on-”

“-couldn’t you have done that at home?”

“shouto. come on. i was planning to go straight from work to the gala because the grind never stops, you know this. so i was trying it on and i was telling him that i didn’t like my outfit at all and then he kissed me on the back of my ear,” you explain, vividly using your hands to help your story. 

the way todoroki’s eyes widen a little makes you feel better that you have someone else also astounded by bakugou’s boldness. “he… kissed… your ear?”

“yes!”

“why your ear?”

“i don’t know, shouto!”

“but why did he kiss you?”

“i don’t know, shouto! that’s not something friends or coworkers do to one another.”

“right. i would never kiss your ear. or you.”

“i would never kiss you either, which confuses me so much as to why bakugou did that! and then he referred me to a personal stylist- who was amazing, i will absolutely be returning to her again- and when i showed up at the gala, he was just acting so… off!”

“like how he pulled you away from midoriya.”

“precisely! it got worse because when we arrived at the entrance, i was about to enter but then he stopped me by pulling my hand, which he then proceeded to kiss!” you exclaim animatedly, gesturing to the same hand. “then he asked me to be his date!”

“that’s odd. why not ask you in advance?”

“right?”

todoroki hums in contemplation for a second, furrowing his eyebrows as he thinks- a habit he has not rid of since u.a. “if i was going to be honest y/n, i was about to say my theory is that bakugou has a crush on you, but asking you to be his date tonight? it feels a little off to me.”

“why?”

“if he truly wanted you to accompany him to the gala, he would’ve asked beforehand. doing it tonight just feels a little… orchestrated, asking whilst you were all dressed up,” todoroki’s articulate words pierce you through the heart and you feel your chest deflate, understanding what he was saying. “i don’t want to assume anything of this because that is not in bakugou’s character, he’s never superficial about anything he does.”

you sigh, quietly muttering the next statement. “believe it or not you’re not the first person tonight telling me that bakugou has some ulterior motive with me.” 

your friend’s is taken aback, his hair jumping with his sudden movement. “who else?”

“some old, marketing guy from a support gear company that kept bothering bakugou at last year’s gala,” you huff, placing your chin on your hand as you fiddle with the bracelets adorning your wrist. “said something that really messed with my brain.”

“hm?”

now finding your nails a lot more interesting than your dual-quirk friend, you don’t think you can meet his eyes whilst repeating the embarrassing statement. 

“he said that since bakugou and midoriya have been rivals and competing against each other since they were young, bakugou was using me as a chance to one-up deku. especially because deku’s the hottest talk in the hero world right now because of that partnership. he thought that if i could stand and look pretty by bakugou’s side, it would boost his image and get him into the headlines,” you spit, sounding more aggressive with each word that leaves your mouth.

you want to punch a wall.

todoroki places a gentle hand on your shoulder, one that felt grounding and reassuring. kind.

“you’re more than just someone who can sit and look pretty,” he begins, “anyone who says otherwise is clearly stupid. you’re one of the top heroes in japan, simplifying your reputation to only benefit someone by being their date is offensive and incredibly ignorant.”

his assured words lifts your spirit a little, but there’s still that little bit of weight clasping at your ankles. “but what if bakugou doesn’t see it that way?” 

“then he’s an idiot.”

the laugh that escapes you makes your chest feel lighter; a remedy for the horrible emotions swirling in your gut. “you’re right. this is all just so frustrating,” you mutter into your palms. “i need to stop thinking about bakugou or i will obliterate him the next time i see him.”

todoroki huffs, entertained. “i don’t think you should hold any malice towards him. let the truth reveal itself, we’re both getting ahead of ourselves.”

“yeah,” you sigh before fishing for your phone. “please take photos of me, i look too good tonight to not post myself on instagram. i need a distraction from my wallowing.”

“as you wish.”

# FIVE ! - the kiss of confession. 

you did not take todoroki’s advice at all and instead, got ahead of yourself. the first day back to work since the gala, you began deliberately avoiding bakugou- as immature as that was.

it’s a task easier said than done because avoiding bakugou was really hard. like, really really hard. given that his office was literally right beside yours, it was hard to walk by his glass doors and pretend to not notice him in there, especially since he liked to weight lifts and walk around as he worked. you could probably draw bakugou’s build from heart with how many times you gawked at him as you passed by.

plus he’s the face of the wholeass agency, so. there’s that.

the only solution you fathomed was to pick up more patrols during work hours, leaving more often during the day to return exhausted and irritated at night whilst you dealt with office work. seeing your sour mood apparently was enough to turn bakugou- and everyone else, away. 

your assistant has booked you spa schedules for almost every weekend. multiple of them.

avoiding bakugou evolved from the root of two problems. the first one being the whole gala fiasco, the second one being that you genuinely don’t believe it’s good for your health if he kept acting as intimate as he had with you. however, the more you thought about it, you’re not even sure if he’d treat you the same way he did before the gala and you’re also not risking any chance of finding that out.

“you got another commission at downtown honei! join the cops in chasing down the assailant who claims to be ‘lava man’. police recommend to bring another hero,” a voice from your operator calls and you quickly reply with a ‘on it’. your first thought was ridiculing the villain name: ‘lava man’. wonder what his quirk was.

adjusting your hero gear as you walk out of your office, you run into the exact gorgeous face you’ve been avoiding. 

“y/n i need to- where are you going in such a hurry?” asks bakugou, scrunching his eyebrows upon noticing your haste. you continue walking past him and without thinking, he trails behind.

“commission. i’m going to get backup.”

“i can join-”

“-no, stay here. i’m calling kirishima on this one,” you say, sparing him a momentary glance to see a look of frustration appearing in his eyes. 

he looks like he’s bursting at the seams to say something, but the blond shoves all protests down and shouts out a ‘stay safe’ before you’re turning around the corner.

the commission is easy enough and you solved it before the clock could progress another hour. the hard part was that you kept receiving mission after mission, unable to catch a break to have some lunch or retreat to the agency when you had to keep reprimanding villains. seriously, why did they all unanimously pick today to be menaces to society?

your muscles were getting increasingly sore, your body was starting to feel the after effects of your quirk, and you were grumpy for how little time you got to rest. 

after reporting back your last commission for the day, you finally find some time to buy some food from your favourite ramen place. pathetically carrying the plastic bag all the way up to your office, you open the glass door with a grunt because of how much your body ached from one simple movement. you were going to be in even more pain tomorrow; maybe you should request a day off to see your physiotherapist. 

as you leant against the front of your desk to search for the contact of your trusted physiotherapist, you jump about 2 feet when the door to your office slams open, revealing a fuming bakugou.

blinking once, then twice in fear, you feel cornered.

“uh… can i help you?” comes your meek greeting.

“yeah you can fuckin’ help me!” he booms, crossing the floor to stand directly in front of you, face only a few inches away from yours. “mind telling me why you’ve been avoiding me ever since the gala? and why you didn’t respond to any of my texts since?”

you cringe at the mention of the texts. whilst you were complaining your heart out to todoroki, bakugou was asking where you went and why you didn’t tell him you were leaving. messed up move on your part, but it genuinely pained to even read his contact name, let alone send him a text to pretend like everything was okay.

now that he’s this close again, you realise just how much you’ve missed him.

your heart is doing laps again, and your arms suddenly itch with a desire to pull him close.

“don’t try to say something stupid like you haven’t been avoiding me, because you clearly have,” he scolds but the hurt in his eyes are very visible. it was time to just give him the truth, even if it still hurts you to think about.

with a sigh, you decide to surrender to your downfall through the form of a simple confession. 

“i like you.”

the tension in the room increases by tenfold. your lungs tighten from how suffocating his presence is, especially as he looms over you, allowing you no space to breathe.

then he does something incredibly unexpected: he kisses you. 

you feel your mind spinning and your heart picking up even more than you thought humanly possible. the way he curves himself around you is too much, the fire he ignites within your stomach, burning you from the inside out with his passion was too much, and the feeling of how desperately he was holding you against him was too much. he’s bleeding with love and need.

bakugou’s lips move against yours with a hint of urgency behind his actions, and you don’t have it in you to deny him. so, you fully give in to the unstoppable force of bakugou katsuki, allowing him to pick you up and seat you on your office desk.

somehow your hands end up tangled in his hair and his are roaming all over your body, unable to find purchase for even a millisecond as he commits learning you to memory.

you snap back to reality when a grunt of satisfaction slips past his mouth and into yours, causing you to abruptly jump back whilst simultaneously pushing him away. you miss his warmth already, grip steady on his shoulders to keep him away.

the look of hunger and yearning in bakugou’s eyes tells you that he’s not yet satisfied.

“hold on- stop- we need to discuss this-” you stammer before being cut off by the blond.

“-i have been waitin’ forever for this fucking moment. discussion over-”

“-no, bakugou-” you push his face away, even as he keeps inching forward, hands tugging your closer towards his toned body, “-katsuki.”

bakugou perks up at the mention of his given name, stopping his struggle completely. you only ever use it to capture his attention but he wishes that you would use it for more casual means rather than purposeful ones. it sounds so nice when you say it after all.

“i need a second to think,” you explain, rubbing your temples. 

“talk to me, pretty. i can only answer if you verbalise your thoughts.”

“so you genuinely like me? you’re not using me for, y’know, media rep and shit?”

the most flabbergasted, appalled, and astounded expression appears on bakugou’s face. he looks absolutely livid and you begin wondering why you ever assumed the things you did.

“the fuck?” comes his reply. “why the fuck would you think that? who the fuck made you think that?”

you feel small under his fiery gaze, unable to properly look him in the eye as you recount the conversation shared between you and the old, marketing representative of the support gear company. with each sentence bakugou’s scowl grows deeper.

one the story is over, you knew that you were in for a mouthful. in more ways than one. 

“that stinky, old geezer was why you were ignoring me? i thought i messed up or something, but this was because you actually listened to that extra? are you fuckin’ kidding me? i’ve been dyin’ because of you refused to even look at me and some asshole is the cause of that?” he asks. “i’m about to blow a bitch up-”

“-no, katsuki!”

would you look at that. he’s calm again.

“don’t do that. it’s my fault, i let him get to my head and suddenly some insecurities i didn’t even know i had started emerging. if it’s anyone that needs to apologise it’s me, i’m sorry for how i’ve been treating you after the gala, and for doubting you.”

“yeah you better be. don’t do this shit again,” the blond commands. “you really think that low of me that i’d use you to help my reputation?”

“i think it was moreso i thought really lowly of myself. to me, it didn’t make sense that you would ever be interested in me.” 

a beat passes. he flops himself against you again, letting you hold up majority of his weight. 

“you’re kiddin’, right? you’re a fuckin’ gem and i’ll kill anyone who won’t treat you like one because i just had the worst few days of my life from this bullshit,” he complains, burying himself into the juncture of your shoulder and your neck. 

the giggle of flattery escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you rub your hands soothingly along his spine before admitting a question that has plagued your mind ever since. “why’d you ask me to be your date at the gala and not beforehand?”

“i was nervous and chickened out every time i tried,” he confesses quietly, grumbling lowly into your skin. “when i saw you at the gala i swore i got a heart attack, and when that nerd almost swept you off your feet, i had to do something. i knew i’d lose you otherwise.”

“what, don’t want to lose to deku again?” you ask with a teasing tone. bakugou bites your skin. you yelp.

“watch your mouth.”

“you’ll be relieved to know that i don’t want anyone but you, katsuki.”

“ya sure?”

“i’ve been sure for a while.”

the blond laughs, murmuring a ‘you’re perfect. too good for me’ before connecting your lips again. you hum into him before muttering a ‘yeah i am’ against his mouth. it makes him smirk. 

when you part, you pat his shoulder as a sign of surrender. “i need to get to working on some files so if you don’t mind-”

as you try to shuffle off your table, bakugou stops you before your feet can even touch the ground. “are you kidding?” he challenges in an accusatory tone. “you’re not doing shit, you’ve been on commissions all day. have you even had a meal?”

“i just bought some ramen for myself,” you say whilst gesturing to the bag on your desk. 

he grumbles. “want me to warm it up?”

“no, it’s okay,” reaching around you to open the laptop sitting on your desk, bakugou’s quick to shut it close again.

“what part of ‘you’re not doing shit’ do you not understand? fuckin’ rest!”

life is a little surreal right now, especially with bakugou’s aggressively ambiguous way of nurturing people. then he grabs the noodles and rips opens the packaging, fishing for the chopsticks also provided before ripping that apart too. so shameless in everything he does, that’s a habit he’ll never lose, you suppose. 

you unknowingly smile when considering the prospect that bakugou’s shamelessness is something you have to deal with even more now.

a small cat fight erupts when you realise that the blond had full intentions of feeding you the ramen himself and your dignity refused to let him. he eventually coaxed you by saying he’ll take your commissions for the next three days and the soreness of your muscles found the deal a little too tempting. with a huff, you give in.

“ramen smells good,” he comments absentmindedly.

“it’s my favourite place. not too far away. we should go someday,” you say in between mouthfuls.

he scoffs in dismissal but the pink tint of his ears contrast his reluctant attitude. “it better not let me down.” 

you stop for a second, grabbing your phone and searching through your contacts again. “i need to book a session with my physiotherapist.” 

“why?”

“she gives the best massages and my body is so sore right now.”

“i think i can help with that.”

“really?”

“don’t underestimate me,” bakugou says, paired with a wink. you can’t help but assume there’s a not-so-innocent undertone to his intentions, especially with the way he smirks. “i could help you relax in more ways than one.”

goodness, were you in for a ride.

[sky-kiss]

Raphael x Tav: Coffee Shop AU Pt. 2

A/N: Continuing from this, because someone wanted Raphael's POV and I wanted to goof off instead of writing serious things.

______

She’s a Barista. How Did it Come to This?

______

As a professor of the English language and literature on the whole, Raphael has no small amount of experience when it comes to divining an author’s intent and reading subtext. Years of honing these talents allow him to translate Haarlep’s intended message: ask the barista out. 

What he actually says is, “It’s been seven months, old man, is this a joke? Skip dinner and fuck the poor thing sideways.” Which is uncouth, uncivil, and utterly par for the course for the younger man. 

“Why are you here?”

Haarlep shrugs. He’s currently sprawled out across the only sofa in the teacher’s lounge, both monopolizing the space and looking too cramped on the loveseat. Korilla rolls her eyes, leaning over his feet to pluck another paper from the pile. The University has afforded him two assistants this semester. Only one is pulling their weight. But Haarlep’s is not without use. Between himself and his assistant, he has never seen: 

Such positive class reviews. 

So many female students with a vested interest in classical literature. 

It’s frankly uncanny. 

“You’d be happier for taking my advice.” 

“Not everyone is playing ‘catch the venereal' disease, Haarlep,” Korilla mutters. Haarlep shoots her a look. Something unspoken passes between them. In the absence of words (and Korilla’s repentance), Haarlep digs their heel into her thigh before sitting up. 

“Oh, take me with you. One evening, Raphael. That's all I need. And you and your sweet barista will be happy little lambs.” 

“Aren’t you busy?” Raphael eyes the essays. 

Haarlep waves him off. “Unimportant. I hate to see you so solemn, dear. Please.” 

And unfortunately, there’s no denying Haarlep anything once they’re in full flow. Gods save them all. 

_________

Fifteen minutes into the drive, he insists on silence. Raphael is always one for a good discussion, but Haarlep is a peculiar breed. He whiplashes from topic to topic with an alacrity most find disorienting and asserts opinions so occasionally outlandish that Raphael wonders if he believes them. The smirk says he doesn’t; half of what they do is for their amusement, the little shit. 

“You must like her,” Haarlep mutters. “The cafe might as well be in a different city.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’re half an hour from campus.” 

“Mmm.” 

He doesn’t like that sound one bit. Or the look his assistant is giving him. Raphael grumbles, motioning for the younger man to go ahead of him. The bell on the door chimes when they step inside, and he’s overcome with that feeling of peace.

Tav’s shop smells equal parts coffee shop and bookstore, the slightly spicy scent of old paper lingering on the air. He associates the smell with snowy mornings spent indoors, curled beneath his covers, safe and comfortable. There are seating areas and tables, yes, indicative of any metropolitan cafe. It’s the books he fell in love with. Shelves and shelves of books, of all genres and ages. You were as likely to find a history of naval battles as you were an airport bestseller or romance. 

Haarlep pulls a face. “It smells like a library.” 

“That will be the books, you troglodyte.” 

They accept the gibe gamely enough, stuffing their hands in their pockets. Haarlep scans the place with their frankly unsettling, at times preternatural, gaze, weighing every barista. They linger on Tav. “That one?” 

“How…” 

“Raphael, you are aware of what attraction looks like, yes? Do you have some cursory awareness? That girl looked at you with the stupidest doe-eyes when you walked in. It made me a little upset. Or nauseous.” He waved a hand. “Hard to say which.” 

“Your dramatics are noted, Haarlep. Find a book. I’ll order for us.” 

“Oh, good. More reading.” 

He is very aware of Haarlep’s eyes on him as he approaches the counter. It pales in comparison to the roiling feeling in his gut. The voice in his head (sounding too much like his father) screams every time he gets close. She’s too young; they’re from different worlds. She won’t look at him. If she’s polite, it’s because she’s paid to be polite, Raphael. Tav smiles at him; the expression lights up the entirety of her face. He thinks, in that moment, that she is one of the most singularly lovely creatures he’s seen. 

“Raphael!” She uses his name. Tav leans forward on the counter, beckoning him nearer. Her little friends behind the counter share a look among themselves, snickering. “I took your advice.” She points to a shelf on the left side of the store. He recognizes the book: one of his recommendations. “You were right. I couldn’t put it down. I figured others might enjoy it too. If you have any more suggestions…” 

“Of course. Of course! It’s…very nearly my profession!” 

“Isn’t that your profession?” 

He smirks, dipping into a half bow. “Among other things. You’ll find me a font of philosophy and tired rhetoric. Should it ever strike your fancy.” 

“Mmm. You do know how to sweet talk a girl.”

He thinks he hears Haarlep groan from across the cafe. Tav is looking at him, and the weight of that stare leaves him parched or hungry. Raphael clears his throat. “May I ask how you found the ending?” 

“Why doesn’t she explain it to you,” Shadowheart says, sliding a coffee to him. “Over dinner? Say six?” 

Haarlep winds an arm around his waist, resting their chin on his shoulder. “Six is perfect, my beauty. He can’t wait. Italian?” 

“Her absolute favorite. Passatempo?” 

Haarlep reaches out to shake the she-elf’s hand. “He’s never been. But he’s so eager to try.” 

It is, perhaps, the most surreal way he’s ever gotten a date. Tav stares at him in sputtering horror, her face a vibrant red. Raphael saves her, writing his number on one of the cafe’s business cards. He hands it to her. “My number. I look forward to our…” 

“...date.” She finishes, so conclusively, so resolutely, that he laughs. 

“Yes. Of course.” 

[thefrogdalorian]

Always

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1588 Rating: General Summary: You wake up from an incredibly distressing nightmare in which Din and Grogu had suddenly vanished from your life without a trace. Fortunately, Din is there to console you with his comforting embrace and soothing words. He leaves you feeling optimistic about the future, rather than dreading what lies ahead for the pair of you. Content Warnings: Reader has a nightmare and panic attack! Author's Note:  I opened up Google Docs and started churning this baby out minutes after the movie announcement yesterday. Until I see confirmation season 4 is in production I'll be spiralling that the show as we know it has ended, despite how excited I am to see Clan Mudhorn on the big screen!! I just needed to write this for some comfort for myself, but I really hope you enjoyed it too.

My Masterlist

Read on AO3

The presence of a large hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you, awakened you from the torturous visions that had overtaken your consciousness while you were sleeping. The nightmare had rocked you to your core, but the warm touch of Din’s hand on your shoulder brought you back from that terrible place that your mind had taken you to. Only seconds ago, you had been experiencing a hauntingly realistic nightmare where Din had disappeared from your life without a trace. 

In the terrifying scene your mind had created, you arrived back – after running some errands in the centre of town – at the small cabin the two of you shared with Grogu on Nevarro to find it empty. The cabin was achingly quiet and still as you approached. There was no light, laughter or love; you had felt the bile rise in your throat at the realisation that all evidence of Din and Grogu’s existence had been inexplicably wiped from your life.

The numerous colourful drawings Grogu had created of your Clan of Three, usually pinned to the door of the cooling chamber with magnets, had vanished. As had the toys that were carelessly strewn across the rug in the main living area of the cabin – despite how frequently Din nagged the cheeky little boy to pick them up.

The ghosts of memories danced around you, haunting as you searched every inch of the desolate cabin for any explanation for their absence. The couch where you had often cuddled up with Din, feeling so warm and safe in his arms, was now heartbreakingly empty. But nothing had prepared you for the devastation you felt when you walked into the room you shared together with Din to find the assortment of shelves that he carefully stacked his Beskar armour and helmet on every night, after meticulously polishing them, lay completely empty.

At the sight of that, you knew something was seriously wrong. The armour was a second skin to Din, a part of his body; an extension of his person even when he was not wearing it. Without that it was as though he had somehow been erased, as though he had never existed in the first place. Din Djarin appeared to be nothing more than a figment of your imagination. You had shouted and screamed their names at the top of your lungs as you paced through the cabin, your voice growing more frantic with each passing second. But it was to no avail; it was as though Din and Grogu were never a part of your life. Their presence had abruptly vanished without warning or explanation. 

Fortunately, Din's gentle, careful touch on your shoulder had roused you from the terrifying visions that had haunted you in slumber. As you lay there, a sheen of sweat growing cold across your forehead, your eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness. When they eventually did, the first thing that came into focus in your vision was the sight of Din peering down at you, his warm brown eyes full of concern.

It was a sight that instantly soothed your soul, but the rich, gravelly baritone of his voice reverberating through the night to console you calmed your shaken body and mind even further. 

“It was just a dream, I’m here,” Din said calmly as he held your chin gently in one hand. “You’re safe, cyare. It was only a dream. I’m right here with you.”

“Din?” You murmured, feeling as hot tears scorched a path down your cheeks as you sat up to face him.

“I’ve got you,” Din said as he gathered you to him, his strong arms encircling your body protectively, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I thought… I thought you’d left,” You forced out between sobs. “I came back to the cabin and you’d… you were gone, Din…”

“I would never leave you,” Din asserted. He snapped his head up where it rested on your scalp and held you away from him, shaking his head as though disgusted by the notion. “I’ve got you, I’m right here by your side, always. I’m never leaving you, cyare, You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly. “It was so real, though,” You choked, “It really felt as though you had left me forever, without even saying goodbye.”

“I would never leave you like that," Din said earnestly. "There is no reality where I would ever do such a thing."

Despite the conviction in Din’s voice, you remained unconvinced. The nightmare you had just woken up from had sewn seeds of doubt in your mind. Din led a dangerous life, after all. You had been under no illusions about that fact when you had met him. You knew that there were multiple reasons he might end up injured, or worse, during the course of one of his various jobs with the New Republic. 

“But what if something happens to you one day and you’re taken away from me. Oh, Din, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” You whispered, feeling utterly shattered by the emotions you were currently experiencing.

“That’s not going to happen, cyare. I’ve made it this far, even after all the binds I’ve found myself in over the years. I think I’m pretty good at making it out alive, don’t you?” Din said, his tone light in an attempt to cheer you up, before he placed an achingly soft kiss on your forehead. But despite his gentle gesture, your anguished mind continued its journey to the worst possible conclusions.

“It’s not about how skilled you are, Din!” You exclaimed, a little harsher than you intended. You were spiralling now, frantically gulping air into your lungs to get the words out as your mind raced. “We don’t know what’s out there… the galaxy, there are so many threats. What about Thrawn and–”

“Shhh, shhhh, cyare. Please… that dark place in your mind with all of your worst fears… don’t go there,” Din said as his arms squeezed your waist tightly, before he reached for the back of your head and brought you against his warm, firm chest.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, regaining your composure as your shaky sobs grew more infrequent and then eventually stopped. Then you drew your head back, looking up into the handsome, sympathetic face of the man you loved so deeply.

“I’m sorry, Din,” You whispered, shaking your head in frustration at how you had let your emotions get the better of you. 

“You don’t need to apologise to me,” Din whispered, cupping your jaw and smiling softly at you, relieved that you had finally stopped sobbing and could manage making eye contact with him. 

“I just can’t imagine my life without you,” You sighed. 

“Well, don’t imagine that, cyare,” Din pleaded, his voice firm but quiet, as he added: “Don’t borrow grief from the future.”

You felt your eyes water at such beautiful words. It was a poignant way to relate to the uncertainty about what lay ahead in yours and Din’s lives. The Mandalorian you loved occasionally delivered such profound quotes that you felt almost overwhelmed by the depth and weight that his words carried. You just stared at him, completely awestruck. 

Din’s perceptiveness of the world around him, with his analytical mind and how well he managed to articulate himself, filled you with such a deep sense of wonder that it was difficult to suppress the tears you had only just managed to halt.

“I won’t, Din,” You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I promise.”

“You know I will never truly leave you,” Din whispered. “Even if something terrible were ever to happen, I’d find a way to be with you again. Wherever we go after all this ends, I’ll be with you. Do you believe that?”

“Of course, I do, Din,” You nodded, hoping you managed to convey the certainty with which you believed his vow.

You knew that once Din Djarin set his mind to something, anyone who threatened to drive a wedge between him and that objective would curse the day they made such an unwise decision.

"Good. I'm not going anywhere, cyare. I'll be with you, always,” Din said as he stroked your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, before leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. You closed your eyes and sighed at the contact, the emotion of the moment took your breath away. “Are you ready to get comfortable and try to get some more rest? I expect we’ll be able to manage a few more hours before the little womp rat bursts his way in here to wake us up.”

“Yes, Din,” You giggled at the affectionate nickname Din had for his son. The love you both held for that little boy was boundless. 

Din lay back down on the cot and you rested your cheek on his bare chest, feeling instantly soothed at the skin-to-skin contact and the rhythmic beats of his heart.

In the harrowing nightmare that had left you so devastated, Din had left you all alone. He had been taken from you abruptly by forces unknown. But as you lay there, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you listened to the faint thundering emanating from deep below in his chest… Din was very much by your side. You sighed, a small smile ghosting across your features. 

You knew with absolute certainty that despite whatever forces conspired against you, in this galaxy or any, Din Djarin would be with you… always.

[peterstrk]

“When will you stop calling me Mr. Stark?”

“I don’t know… never? It is your name, yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I know it, but Pete, you know you can call me Tony, right? Or anything you want, for that matter. You have my permission, sweetheart.”

“Oh, Sweetheart, I like it! Anything I want, huh, Dr. Stark?”

“Ugh… I brought that on myself, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. However, I have a question to ask you.”

“Sure, ask away.”

“Um, I know it sounds silly, but I can’t help but feel like you’ve lived all these moments with others too. And no, I don’t judge you or anything, but it’s just… everyone you’ve ever been with has had the privilege to call you by your name and just… ugh, what I’m trying to say is, I love you, Mr. Stark, I truly do. But I want to come up with something that would be only mine! And I’m rambling again, I’m sorry… Anyway, my question is, can you wait for me to do that, please?”

“Oh, Pete, I didn’t know you felt this way. I’m so sorry you’ve gone through so much distress because of it. But Pete, sweetheart, the love of my life, never, you hear me, never question yourself around me, okay? I can’t change my past actions, but I don’t even remember their names, honey. You are the one for me… all I can think about all day is you and just how much I love you.”

“It’s always Peter,” Tony whispered, looking deep into Peter’s eyes and leaving faint kisses across his face. Peter’s bright, relieved smile reassured Tony that everything would be alright.

“Thank you…I think I came up with something for just us. What do you think of Anthony?” Peter said teasingly, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. Tony’s eyes lit up with amusement. He was all too eager to hear his boyfriend call him that.

“I love it, Peter. Anything you want, sweetheart, anything you want,” he replied with a hint of amusement. If anyone who knew him saw him now, they could easily tell how fond he was of the young pretty man standing before him.

[kii0mi]

Ok so, hear me out, what if Danny thinks he and clockwork have a mentor and mentee relationship, almost like a family dynamic even. He gets to sleep on a couch on clockworks tower, hang around, and clockwork might sometimes even help him.

He’s happy, it’s everything he didn’t have with the Fentons, but, what if, clockwork only did it to avoid a bad timeline? He didn’t actually care about Danny, could care less what happened to him as long as it didn’t affect the timeline, and Danny discovers it for the first time when clockwork is very willing, and not at all affected, to end his life if he doesn’t complete a certain task for a “better timeline”

It’s not even a definite will, it’s just a slight chance of the timeline going wrong, and then Danny truly sees how little their relationship means to clockwork. It all crumbles around him as he realizes that the only “healthy” relationship he thought he had was build on straight up lies, he grieves for the mentor he apparently never even had on the first place.

Danny finishes the mission, and as clockwork goes to Pat him in the head for a good job so similar to a dog, a loyal pet to just follow orders in exchange for the bare minimum of affection and care, Danny avoids his hand and just flies away, core empty, void of any meaningful relationship, alone

He stops visiting clockwork altogether, and clockwork doesn’t visit either, barely keeping an eye on the boy to make sure he doesn’t step out of line, and if they capture and experiment on the kid? It’s not his problem as long as the timeline turns out alright

[cult-of-the-eye]

hurt/comfort jmart fic save me...Martin comforting Jon after flashback...save me hurt/comfort jmart fic

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i dream, now, of a normal life with you ; suguru geto

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content. 

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways. 

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk 

you: …… um.  you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug. 

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes. 

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO  you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics. 

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds. 

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here! 

and there he is. 

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor. 

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence. 

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky. 

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it. 

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder. 

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. 

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now. 

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes. 

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely. 

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…” 

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss. 

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm. 

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental. 

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers. 

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours. 

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat. 

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real. 

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat. 

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.” 

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears. 

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough. 

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him. 

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend. 

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day. 

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?” 

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever. 

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace. 

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more. 

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”  

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more. 

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you. 

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming. 

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved. 

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about. 

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him. 

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are. 

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever. 

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him. 

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue. 

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling. 

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat. 

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take. 

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind. 

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead. 

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable. 

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover. 

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done. 

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise. 

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face. 

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement. 

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks. 

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you. 

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause. 

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork. 

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking. 

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever. 

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently. 

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend. 

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know. 

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

[coveted-covey]

Word count: 1,063

You really don’t know when it started.

He’s always been the same, and you’ve always been the same, except that you can’t help but feel that something changed lately.

You stare at your childhood friend of 10 years. Cove’s eyes are crinkled, waving his hands animatedly as he tells a story about his volunteer shift just earlier this afternoon.

“And then the team leader fell on his butt the exact moment the wave came in!” He slaps his knee in glee, laughing out loud as he relives the funny moment. You couldn’t help but share his  mirth, laughing along. “We were all stifling our laughter, I swear–” 

Cove’s iconic eyebrows were downturned as he heaved in laughter. This could easily be one of the best sceneries you’ve ever been blessed to witness, you caught yourself thinking.

His laughter slowly dies down into softer chuckles, then he fixes his gaze onto you. “Why are you staring so much? Is there something on my face?”

“H-whu?” You broke out of your daydreaming, eyes immediately flicking onto the ocean. You feel your cheeks and ears burn in embarrassment. “No, no. Don’t worry about it!” You waved your hands dismissively, hoping that he does not grill you about getting caught staring at him.

You could still feel his eyes burning into you, and you desperately hope that the ground opens up right at that moment to swallow you and shame whole.

“Um, hey! D-do you wanna start walking home now?” You stammer, looking anywhere but him. You stood up from the swing you were sitting on, immediately taking steps away from the playground before Cove even gets a word in.

Long strides turn into heavy jogs behind you and you try to keep a straight face as you walk-run from the scene of unbearable shame. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks once he catches up, which did not take too long considering his skyscraper height.

You try not to gulp a huge lungfuls of air in succession. “Yep, I am!” You hold the air you inhaled, not able to breathe it out right away. You walk side by side with you stuck in that reverie, and you could feel his gaze every now and then, concern etching onto his features.

You were trying to steady your breathing when your lungs and diaphragm finally gave out, making you hiccup. The seagreen-haired boy beside you flinched. “Seriously, [Name]. What’s going on–” He reached out to grab your arm, wavy eyebrows furrowed. 

You feel your eyes burning in mortification. Good God…

As much as you could, you try to swallow air and relax your diaphragm. “I’m alright, really–” Another hiccup. “Darn it!”

You glare at the ground, arms rigid at your sides. This is literally the worst moment to do this.

“I…”

Your best friend waits for you patiently, trying to calm you down by rubbing your arms gently. After a few beats of you not continuing, he sighs softly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Tears finally well up and fall to your feet. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” you whisper in the smallest voice he’s ever heard you in.

You almost sob when he slowly retracts his hands from you, falling at his sides. You scowl at the ground some more, self-hatred boiling the longer he does not respond. That’s it. Ten years, ruined. Just like that. Stupid, stupid [Name]!

Your hiccup breaks him out of his own pondering. “[Name]...”

“I’m so sorry…” you whimper, shoulders starting to shake in hurt and humiliation. You bring your hands to your face, attempting to wipe away the tears that keep on flowing.

Cove frowns and steps closer to you. He wordlessly holds you in his arms, letting you stain his shirt with your tears. Despite the shame, you let yourself grasp onto him, pouring your heart out in sobs and hiccups as Cove rubs his hand on your back. 

He breathes out a sigh then whispers softly, “Why are you upset that you confessed to me?”

“Because!” you start, whining. “I ruined our friendship! And despite me doing that I’m still shameless enough to let you comfort me!”

Cove’s chuckle shakes you both. “You silly goose.” His arms tighten around you and you feel a soft pressure on your temple. “Would it ruin our friendship if I feel the same way?” He laughs again. “Ah, I guess it checks out. Because the obvious progression from friendship is–”

“Hang on,” you pull away a bit, arms still around his waist. “You…” Another hiccup. “You feel the same way?”

The face you always love to look at blooms red, his lips wobbly. “Well… Yeah…” He scratches his neck bashfully. “I’ve always meant to tell you but you beat me into it. And what’s more, you were so upset that you made the confession. What would a guy think?”

A laugh startles out of you. “Oh my God. All these tears, and for what?” You laugh at the silly situation you found yourselves in. “Does this mean we’re dating?” You lean your forehead onto his chest.

“Only if you want to,” came the reply, hints of a smirk obvious in his voice

“Okay, then. Since you asked so nicely,” you teased, looking up at him.

He laughs at your banter, then uses his thumbs to gently wipe away your tears. “Will you let us graduate from being childhood best friends and finally be boyfriend-girlfriend, ending my once-thought-to-be one-sided pining of 10 years?”

You slap his chest lightly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You share a laugh, letting go of each other’s hug, but your hands automatically reaching for each other as you walk up the hill.

~*~

.

.

.

“Guess what?” Liz bursts into your room after 2 knocks on your door.

“Hmm?” You look up from your phone.

“Mom, Ma, and I saw something very rom-comy just a few minutes before you got home. Unlucky you didn’t see it! Best rom-com of the year, not gonna lie!”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, there was this teenage couple, probably childhood friends, who were crying and holding each other on the street. It was almost sweet if it wasn’t so cringe, granted that I know the two of them–” she teased.

“Oh my God, Liz?!”

Your older sister just cackles and slams your door close as you try to throw a pillow at her.

fic by @coveted-covey (2023).

[peaches2217]

Traduzione, Per Favore?

EDIT: AO3 link!

~~~

“What would my name be in Italian?”

Mario studied the princess’ face briefly. Her sapphire eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun, full of sincerity and curiosity; he almost wanted to make something up, something exotic-sounding yet convincing enough that those crystal eyes would shine even brighter.

But she was far too clever for that. She’d see right through him. Or worse — she would be so giddy that she’d believe him, then eagerly relay what she had learned to Luigi, and then his brother would never let him live it down. Mario, impulsive as he could be, knew how to calculate risk and reward, and that was one risk not worth taking.

“...Peach.” Uttering her name sent a chill through him that he only barely repressed— no, that felt so wrong, far more intimate than he was permitted to be with her. “Principessa Peach,” he corrected, and he pulled his cap from his head, absently fanning himself with it. It was a warm day. He could easily pass the color he felt pooling in his cheeks as a consequence of the weather.

The princess’ face fell. “Oh,” she said, soft, but curt. Her brows furrowed, and her lips gathered into a gentle pucker. Suddenly, Mario was happy he hadn’t given into his earlier temptation, because how many people had ever seen the beautiful and regal Mushroom Princess pout?

It caught him off-guard enough that he chuckled, and that in turn softened her downtrodden expression. For a moment, she graced him with a gaze full of the fondness and warmth he’d become so familiar with… and then the pout returned with an indignant force. And, of course, that only made hiding his amusement that much harder.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she chastised, though the dimples that formed in her cheeks betrayed her lack of sincere ire.

Mario, already luckier than most, supposed his day couldn’t get much better than this. 

Oh, he was so glad she had expressed interest in learning his native tongue. It was an interest she’d held for some time now, she had confessed — “It never felt right to ask,” she admitted one day, looking down as she tapped the tips of her fingers together, “since it’s one of the few things you and Luigi were able to bring from your birth world. I… felt that asking to partake in it would be overstepping.”

Mario had never seen it that way. To him, it was one more thing he could share with her. One more wall between them that didn’t seem quite so insurmountable anymore. 

Granted, he didn’t fancy himself much of a teacher, so he mostly just taught her assorted words and phrases over their bi-weekly tea and pastries (merenda, as she had learned last week; today he was greeted with an uncertain yet cheerful “Facciamo merenda!”, and were he any bolder, he would have asked her to repeat it over and over again, just for him). And as endearing as it was, the thought of the princess privately straining to overhear one of the brothers’ personal conversations just so she could enjoy the foreign melody of their otherworldly tongue, he certainly enjoyed this approach much more, and could say with certainty that she did too.

Still, as she sipped at a fresh cup of peony tea, something a hint sour lingered in her expression. 

“You’re disappointed, Princess?” he guessed. She hesitated for a moment, clearly prepared to deny the accusation, but she sighed instead and leaned back into her chair.

“It’s so silly, I know.” She shook her head with a small grin, as if in disapproval of her own behavior. “I just thought… well, I’m named after a fruit. Surely you have a word for ‘peach’.”

“Yes,” Mario agreed, pulling his hat back onto his head now that he was properly cooled, “in which case you would be Principessa Pesca. But you’re not a peach, are you? You aren’t small and round and fuzzy.”

“No,” Peach agreed in turn, “that would be you.”

The force with which she clapped her hands over her mouth sounded downright painful. 

In the ensuing silence, they gaped at one another, him in astonishment, and her in pure, stupefied horror; the white silk of her gloves only served to make her flustering features look redder still. And that did him in.

The shock of her response melted into pure mirth, and Mario buried his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking and his breath coming in gasps. “Hey, there’s a new phrase for you to practice!” he offered where he could find air. “You can tell people, ‘Il mio amico Mario è tondo e peloso, come una pesca!’” Somehow, he found himself hoping she actually would. Never had he been so delighted to be 5’1, over two-hundred pounds, and scruffier than his own father. 

And that was before the most wonderful, most heavenly sound he’d ever heard even hit his ears. Once it did—

It was like windchimes on a cold winter morning, singing out into bright and beautiful emptiness. Like laying out on the rooftop of the high-rise he and Luigi once inhabited and watching the stars, forgetting about bills and budgets and feeling for one fleeting instant like he was alone in the universe. She was laughing, really and truly laughing, bent ever so slightly forward under the weight of her amusement, eyes screwed shut and brimming with unshed tears.

Mario forgot his own amusement, even as Peach sputtered apologies and wiped at her eyes. He’d never heard her laugh. Giggle, yes, but nothing like this.

She looked up at him, eyes still brimming and squinting, face still pink with shame and humor. Her light lipstick was smudged at the corners of her mouth, and he noticed now that it stained the palm of her right hand as well. This was, to some extent, the most human she had ever looked.

A dull but urgent pain coursed through Mario’s body, and only then did he realize he’d stopped breathing.

He could die, he thought as he sucked in a breath as quietly as he could manage, he could honestly die here and now, and that thought didn’t worry him nearly as much as it should have.

“...Princess.” Mario scrambled his head for ideas. He needed to hear that laugh again. “What… what would my name be in English?”

Peach looked confused for a moment — right, it wasn’t called English here, though what it was called had escaped his memory — but she connected the dots quickly enough, and her lips began to quiver.

“...Mark?”

"Oddio!" Mario called, almost choking, because a well-meaning but sheltered Brooklynite had once suggested the brothers advertise themselves as Mark and Louis to attract more business and fewer bigots. Had Luigi told her that story?

The laughter began anew, with renewed vigor, and Mario stifled as much of it as he could into his glove just to hear hers better. It was even more wonderful the second time.

“No,” she said as the last of her giggles died down, “I can’t see you as anything but Mario. Your name is perfect as it is.”

“And yours is too!” Glancing down, Mario caught sight of a miniature tart on the tiered tray between them, lemon-flavored, from the looks of it. “You have a lovely name, Princess,” he assured her, plucking the delicacy from its resting spot. All that revelry had made him hungry again. “It needs no translation.”

“I’ve learned today that I especially like hearing you say it.” 

Mario blinked, the tart in his hand suddenly forgotten.

Peach’s eyes locked onto his and commanded his full attention. She dabbed a cloth napkin at the corners of her mouth, correcting her makeup, and smiled softly. A feeling not dissimilar to his earlier air-deprived pain returned, as though his entire abdomen were being tied into knots like a big balloon animal, though he knew for a fact he was still breathing.

“You needn’t be so formal all the time, you know,” she said. When she set her napkin back onto the table, she looked once more as she always did: perfect, as though she were carved of marble. “You are my friend.”

Was that… an invitation? Mario gulped at the thought. He knew full-well how Peach cherished him, and she in turn knew he loved her just as much (and then some, but that she would never learn about, he’d decided long ago). But she was still… and he was just…

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” he finally said, nervously glancing back to his tart, “Princess.”

The silence that fell between them as he chewed wasn’t uncomfortable, per say, but it felt oddly heavy. Something in Peach’s smile changed, and she glanced down as well. But before he had time to analyze what that change was or why it made his chest feel tight all of a sudden, she reached for the teapot sitting beside the tray.

“Now,” she said, leaning forward to fill Mario’s half-empty cup, “walk me through that last one again, please?”

Mario raised an eyebrow, because speaking through a mouthful of lemon curd would be unbecoming. He wondered for a moment if a bout of such poor manners might make Peach laugh again. 

Peach struggled through a few syllables as she refilled her own cup: “Eel-mee-oh, um, ah-mee…”

Mario made a noise of understanding, swallowing the last bite of tart and wiping the crumbs from his mustache. If he couldn’t hear her laugh again yet, he could at least hear her still-untrained accent, and that was almost as good. “Il mio amico Mario,” he started, initiating a call-and-response sort of game. And when she learned what she was saying, she laughed once more, a sound Mario knew he would be addicted to by day’s end.

Maybe one day he could return the boldness she’d shown in teasing him today. Maybe one day he could accept that invitation, could call her la mia amica Peach instead of la principessa, could really and truly feel he deserved her presence, her companionship, her friendship. 

One day, maybe.

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week: Day 4

Prompts: Fluff / Cole Recs! (i'm sure I'll be seeing a lot of my favorite fics today aaaa)

Fluff Recs-

Good Hair Day: Kai helps Skylor do her hair, based entirely on a headcanon of Kai being good at doing hair (hey, his own style is a choice)

Little Brother: Lloyd realizes the perks of having five older siblings. Lots of sweet family fluff and young!Lloyd shenanigans <3

Nya, Kai, and That One Drink: Including this one specifically because it's probably the most lighthearted thing I've written yet that doesn't involve Jesse snknksnskn, the group goes for takeout in the X-1 Ninja Charger, only for one thing to lead to another and Kai winds up forgetting Nya's drink. What's a brother to do now?

Socks: Wu wearily but delightfully is forced to watch the ninja get way too much merriment out of a ridiculous pair of socks (I, personally, am of the belief that they belong to Lloyd, but—)

Five Times Jay Cheered Someone Up: And the one time he was cheered up in return (i am DISTRESSED that i didn't include this on my Jay list aaaaAAAA)

Five Times Lloyd Was a Pain: And the one time he wasn't. Child!Lloyd for the soul in this one!!!!

There's Insurance For That: In which Skylor gets a taste of the life of a ninja (and learning just how many places they've been banned from in Ninjago) Quite possibly my favorite lighthearted Skylor fic!!!

Cole Recs-

Sick Days: Sickfic, featuring Cole and having to contend with "Being useless", and the doting care

Passing On the Hammer: Cole has a meeting with his grandfather, while Jay tries his hand at being a fisherman and Kai thinks he can do the Triple Tiger Sashay. (Really a fic about Cole and his family's legacy, but Kai and Jay's antics are too hilarious not to mention snksnknksnk)

You're An Excellent Chef, Really *screams loudly* UGNH one of my very favorite fics exploring Cole and Zane's dynamic, will recommend every single time!!!! But, it's basically the duo bonding over cooking over the years. Makes my heart very happy <3

Quiet Weirdo: Cole and Nya friendship fic that the world definitely needs more of!!!!

Adjusting: PILOT BONDING, this time Cole flavored!! Cole's thoughts on his new budding team consisting of a chatty blue guy and the guy that won't stop staring at things. But a guy like Cole has never needed friends anyway, so he's got nothing to worry about, right?

Again and Again: MORE PILOTS BONDING but this time with Glacier! People keep asking me how Cole fell in love with Zane in Legacyverse and my mind always drifts back to a thing similar to this story! My personal investment aside, a nice fluffy fic about how Cole met Zane and they became friends with a touch of pining <3

You Worry Too Much: By the author of Chips and Salsa (another fandom Cole/Glacier classic), here we have a another tale centered around Cole's parents while he was growing up, and though it's a little more about Lou than anyone else, Cole ofc has a huge stake in the story and uwaah I love reading about Cole's family dynamics (both the fluff and the tragedy)

Some Climb Mountains: A retelling of how Cole met Master Wu, always gets me misty eyed because i am a soft soul ;v;

Cole and the Tastiest Broken Glass: S2 Pre-Child's Play, Cole and Lloyd bond over broken things, life philosophy, and candy. Cole and Lloyd sibling duo that the world also needs much more og!!

I'm Sure He Knows: More Cole + Wu bonding that speaks to me specifically, involving a conversation about a certain ghostly wind master who is no more.

Four Times Cole Helped The Guys With a Nightmare: And the one time they helped him. Cole's character at his purest in this one!!!

[sp1tkink]

hey, sorry to ask, but could you do a sdv elliot x fisher reader 🤭 if not, that’s alright! i don’t wanna take your time from ya

of course! :D, im not too into elliot’s story but i’ll go based off of what i’ve seen and heard,,,

pairing: (sdv!)elliot/(gn! fisher!)reader

wc: 1.09k

cw: spoilers to elliot’s heart events, mutual pinning, fluff, gender neutral (no gender specific terms), use of platonic nicknames (bucko by willy), established friendship, friends to lovers

wiping your brow and setting your fishing rod to the side, you marveled at your small bounty of sea creatures. having caught three fish, combined with your walk through cindersap forest, plus your stops to greet your neighbors had worn you out.

an exasperated sigh flew past your lips as your legs dangled over the edge of the dock, you knew your work wasn’t done yet. turning back to check the clock on willy’s storefront, you were met with a certain long haired man walking by, gazing off at the water. “OH- my, goodness!” you yelled before chuckling nervously, “you scared me!”

elliot chuckled back softly before his gaze shifted back to the sea, “i thought you’d be used to seeing me by now.” he hummed, “i’m afraid not.” the man playfully chided much to your, just as playful, dismay.

you’ve been living in stardew valley for a while now and built up a decent relationship with elliot. he’d shown you around his cabin numerous times, played his piano for you, and invited you to a book reading he’d hosted in the local museum/library in town. he’s supported you too! in his own ways, of course.

he based a couple of scenes in his books on you, inspired entire books off of the interactions you’ve had, complimented you on your fishing skills along with other things of the sort. you enjoyed it, the brief gleam of joy in his eyes when you tell him you liked a song or excerpt he wrote, it made you want the dream of living in pelican town to never end.

you hadn’t realized it but in the midst of your thinking, elliot had walked away. maybe this was why you weren’t used to him, he’d always been disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. you knew he had his own schedule, but visiting his house was always an option, so you’d do it later.

standing up, you decided to pack up your things and head home, briefly stepping into willy’s to sell any fish that you didn’t need to donate to the junimo at the community center. on your way home, you made a took quick detour to the saloon only to be greeted by elliot once again. you ordered and found a seat with some familiars of the right-corner table of the place.

elliot was spewing his usual poetic nonsense which you couldn’t help but laugh at his slurred tone caused by the strong wine he often drank when he visited. sharing one last chat with clint and willy, you decided to focus more on your food, not wanting to be fatigued the next morning. though, you couldn’t help but notice the not-so-subtle glances elliot was taking from across the saloon.

given you’d been doing the same thing occasionally, you didn’t think he was too. admittedly you were a bit flustered and this didn’t go unnoticed by willy or even ‘the romantically oblivious’ clint. “you should talk to him.” he stated bluntly nearly prompting you to spit out your food. “it’s not like you don’t know the boy, and not to mention we all saw you leaving pierre’s with those flowers.” willy added.

you swallowed your food and grinning defeatedly seeing as your purchase earlier this week outed you. it’s not like you weren’t going to give elliot the bouquet, you’d just been building up the courage to.

“you’re the same person who told me to go for it with emily? seriously? i find that hard to believe.” clint grunted, taking a sip from his stein of beer. “okay, well, don’t act like that. you got with her didn’t you?” you huffed back, waving your fork around before hiding your face behind the glass of your wine—that elliot had bought you earlier that night—in even more defeat. “which is just the reason you should go and splay your feelings to elliot, bucko.” willy prodded matter-of-factly, moving the bottle away from your face.

standing up, you placed a pouch of gold on the table. “i’ll do it. tomorrow. and if i don’t! i owe you both double this!“ you announced catching the attention of sam, sebastian, and abigail—who’d just been a room away—causing them to snicker at your seemingly random announcement.

willy and clint laughed in amusement at the bet, “we’ll take it, i could always use a little extra cash, you haven’t stopped by to process any geodes lately.” clint chortled. “i won’t even owe you a silver dollar!“ you guffawed, snatching up your bottle of wine and heading to the door.

the next day came faster than you’d expected, it almost made you wish you never stepped foot out of that bar with the thought that the night would have gone slower if you hadn’t.

you took your time watering your crops and feeding your animals, hoping that somehow they’d convince you to go give the bouquet to elliot. fortunately you did it yourself, after checking your personal stash you realized you didn’t have enough gold to renovate your home and pay the men for the bet so you’d just have to perk up and confess.

on your way to elliot’s you greeted your friends around town, emily in particular noticing the bouquet and cheering you on before quickly sending you on your way by shoving you out of her house and on your way to the bridge. “you can do this!” she loudly whispered, the giddiness she’d been holding in becoming evident when she spoke. “okay… okay!” you reassured her and yourself.

walking onto the beach, you notice elliot dusting off the old boat that always sat next to his house and luckily enough he’s not quick to notice you just yet.

“ahem… uh. elliot!” you speak out, causing him to look up at you, flashing a brief smile before going back to dusting off his boat. “hello, the weather is just about right for a boat ride. willy says to give it another day though, something about those silly ‘tides’ and such.” elliot replied.

laughing dryly, you nod. “yeah… listen, um, i wanted to give you this.” holding the bouquet down to elliot, you notice his eye slightly widen and you couldn’t help but feel you made a mistake, but you waited for him to confirm your suspicion. “you really feel that way?” the question made you gulp, “i feel that way too!” he said cheerily. letting out an excited yelp, you hopped into the boat and hugged the red head tightly, “thank yoba!” sighing as you slid off of him, elliot gently ruffled your hair.

you felt relived that this was finally off your chest. smiling at elliot, you kissed his cheek and waved a pleased goodbye, breaking off into a run to willy’s not too soon after you left his eyeshot. “i told you i’d do it!” you yelled, swinging the door to his shop open.

THIS WAS LEGIT MY FIRST FIC(on tumblr), i really hope you enjoy, i did my best to proof read and everything

[saffricatrice]

real men stay up late sobbing over stupid fictional gay people from 200 years ago (it is 3 AM and my eyes are red and hurting)

[zukkaoru]

if anyone wants to drop some prompts into my ask box.. preferably for b.sd rarepairs..... i would not say no