;)

More of malleus and silver sibling bonding time. I like to think that malleus is constantly stealing silver away to show him things and play. He also talks to him like he's a full grown adult which is both funny and good for silver in the long run.

Also this habit has stopped Lilia's heart on more than one occasion

Five More Minutes

Summary: Mornings are a pain, aren't they? So let Alhaitham hold you for just five more minutes, won't you? Word Count: 1.3k Tags: Fluff, Slight Crack, Established relationship (reader x husband!alhaitham), very slight spoilers for the archon quest + his story quest A/N: i can't get alhaitham out of my brain honestly

“Haitham, habibi, let go…”

“Mmnh… Not yet…”

“The sun’s already up. I’ll be late if you don’t let me go, Haitham…” 

There’s no life to your words; anyone would be just as unenthused about having to go to work. You're not a stranger to the way you just want to melt back into the bed and ignore your responsibilities, especially when you had work and he, didn't.

Though, it seems like he's upset about that fact, too. Your weak complaints barely even make it into Alhaitham's ears with how tightly he’s hugging you against him. They're muffled against the flesh of his skin as he holds you like one would a beloved stuffed toy. Either he's sleeping deeply, or he's outright ignoring you in favour of holding you a little while longer.

With his arm acting as your pillow and your legs tangled beneath the sheets, you’ve honestly never felt more comfortable in your life. The air was light and cool, and the silk sheets felt heavenly on your skin. Truthfully, you still weren’t too sure if you were awake or if this was all just a dream. It’s been rather disorienting after the truth of the use of the Akasha terminals had come to light. 

Eyes still bleary with sleep, you struggle to catch a glimpse of your lover past the shadows of the muscles that were caging you in. All you manage to catch is the way that the sunlight was filtering through your windows. Past your curtains and into the room, they bathe your shared bedroom in a soft morning glow. You can’t see it, but you can feel the rays that lap at your skin and his, mimicking the warmth of melted butter and lightly toasted marshmallows and everything good and well in this world. 

“Five more…” you hear him mumble, arms tightening around you as he pulls you even closer towards him. The smell of his body wash is nothing short of home. “God, just five more minutes…”

It didn’t sound like he was talking to you. His eyes were barely even open. A clingy Alhaitham was something you hadn’t expected when you had first begun dating, but you weren’t about to complain. It was endearing. Sweet. If you didn’t have work, you’d melt back into his embrace and mould yourself against him in an instant. 

“I have work, Haitham.”

“So?”

Spoken like a true linguist.

“Not all of us can escape it as easily as you can,” you mumble, trying to fight him off amidst the haze of your mind.

It’s a pathetic attempt. Between your heavy limbs and your desire to stay in for just a little while longer, all you manage to do is run a palm across his broad shoulders, lightly patting at his biceps in hopes that he did the work instead of poor, sleepy you. He doesn’t. He cages you in and locks you down. Alhaitham does shift, but only to roll on top of you. To trap you underneath him, pinning you down with his weight. 

As much as you like to complain, the weight of him is more of a comfort than a hindrance.

“Don’t go in,” he mumbles, lips moving against the pulse of your neck as he inhales deeply. The hair on your skin stands, and you squirm at the brush of air against the slope of your neck. “They haven’t accepted my resignation yet, have they? Tell them I allowed it.”

That makes you laugh a little. You can even feel a corner of his lip quirk up when you do.

“Are you abusing your authority?”

“If Azar could do it, why can’t I?” He says, always quick with his words. They’re raspy and soft in your ear, filled with unadulterated affection. He noses into your neck. “It’s not like I’m trying to build a God.”

“Yeah, you’re trying to flatten me instead.”

You hear him grumble atop you. “No I’m not.”

Resigned to your fate, you stay still for a while more, content to be drifting in and out of consciousness. There wasn’t much to do today, anyway. Coming in a little later than usual would be fine. If your hard-working lover wanted five more minutes, who were you not to give him that temporary period of peace?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been laying there, but eventually, you hear Alhaitham’s breathing start to even out.

So you nudge him.

“What?” He grumbles, voice laced with sleep. Almost like a disgruntled child, Alhaitham buries his face deeper against you as you tap his arm weakly once more. 

“I’m serious. I need to go to work. It's been five minutes.”

“No.”

“Haitham.”

“I’ll cover for you.” You can hear his hand patting around the bed, searching yours out, interlinking your fingers when he’s successful. His lips brush over your collarbone as they begin peppering sloppy kisses against the exposed skin, clustering them over one spot. “Won’t get you in trouble. Promise.”

He squeezes your hand, lifting his head just enough to catch your eye.

“Stay in with me for the day?”

Well... He asked really nicely.

Arms moving to wrap around his back, it’s your turn to pull him close before sleep could whisk you away once more. 

Extra:

The house is flooded with the aroma of spices, simmering meat, and caramelised onions. 

You wake to an empty bed, the sun high up in the sky. Whatever warmth that once lingered on the other side of the bed was now gone; replaced. You’d never understand how he always manages to get out of the most convoluted positions without waking you up in the process. 

“Haitham?” You call out. His earpieces are still on the bedside table and the curtains were still drawn. You can hear the stove turn off, just rooms away from you. Just barely, there’s the sound of utensils being set down and crockery being moved. 

Rubbing your eyes as you slip out of bed, you stumble out of the bedroom. Sleep still beckons you into her loving embrace, but you fight against it to find your husband in the kitchen.

“Habibti,” you hear him greet just somewhere in front of you, as you bumble your way towards him. It smelled delicious. A few dishes are already set on the dining table.

“Careful,” he whispers, pulling, and tucking you into his chest. Soaking in his warmth feels like being set in an oven, a non-existent timer ticking down to the second you’d inevitably have to part. Until then, you live in the moment and enjoy what life has to offer. What Haitham has to offer. 

And he has so much.

Little symbols are traced into your back, letters spelling words in different languages that you’ve learnt were variations of mine, mine, mine. 

“Don’t go falling back asleep on me now,” he croons, lightly poking you when he notices your eyes starting to droop. “It’s almost one in the afternoon.”

Had you slept for that long? 

His fingers pause.

“Love?”

“Hmm?”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“You told me to stay in with you,” you mumble, reluctantly pulling away to look up at him. Messy grey bangs frame his face, and you brush them aside. 

His eyes twinkle with affection; and mirth. 

“Hm. Did I?”

It takes a while for his words to settle in, but when they do, panic seizes your chest upon the thought that you might have really dreamt that up. You jerk away from him, adrenaline thrumming through your veins as you grip his arms. 

The facade breaks. His lips curl up.

Alhaitham laughs at your expression, squeezing your side and pulling you in despite your silent protests to press his lips to the crown of your head. “I’m kidding. I had a letter sent in just now.” 

You smack his arm. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s pretty funny,” he pecks your temple. “Brush your teeth and join me for lunch. I made your favourites.”

A/N: i don't think its possible for me to ever shut up about alhaitham anymore

©shiinleaf Do not plagiarise, use, translate and/or share my content outside of Tumblr in any way, shape, or form. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed!

[04:53] - KUROO TETSUROU– masterlist

the day tetsurou married you, was undoubtedly the best day of his life, a little scary and very nerve wracking, but a day he’ll never forget.

he’ll never forget waiting for you, anxiously at the alter, fidgeting in his shoes. he’d glance at kenma, his best man, every few seconds, thinking you’d ran away and changed your mind last minute. kenma only looked back at him with an exasperated look on his face. there was no way you’d leave. if there was anything kenma was certain of, it’s the look of adoration and love pooling in your eyes when someone mentions tetsurou, despite your protests of him being an annoying little shit.

he’ll never forget finally hearing the music start and seeing you walk down the aisle, looking like a complete angel, all dressed in white. even through his blurry teary eyes tetsurou could make out the blinding smile on your face and his lips wobbled, thinking about how lucky he was to be given the blessing of marrying you.

he’ll never forget exchanging your vows, being able to stare into your glassy eyes while declaring his love for you to the whole world. he’d promised to be with you no matter what, through thick and thin and in sickness and health. 

the first kiss you’d share with tetsu, as his wife, was something engraved into his brain, playing on repeat. he’d never forget shivering at the feeling of cold metal, pressing against his skin and you held his face, lips locking in a loving embrace. he kisses you with the same amount of passion and ardour now as he did back then.

but looking at the tiny bundle of joy delicately placed in your arms, tetsurou thinks your wedding day has finally met its match. your wedding was magical, but seeing the physical manifestation of your love, sleeping peacefully in your arms, makes him feel even more complete and fulfilled. 

he softly gazes at both of his princesses, pressing kisses to both of your foreheads. seeing his newborn smile in her sleep at his touch and you looking up at him with nothing but love in your eyes, causes his heart to swell and double in size. 

he thinks to himself after you pulling you in for a sweet kiss, that this, the day your daughter was born, seeing you hold her with such tenderness and care, is now, undoubtedly, the best day of his life.   

© ffsg0jo 2022 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

HOW THEY BLUSH.

pairing(s): main three / midoriya, bakugo, todoroki + gender neutral reader (separate!)

warnings: none, just fluff!

navigation. masterlist.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

blushes with his whole face.

he really cannot help that his whole face warms up, all the way from his cheeks to his ears.

it's so easy to get him to blush; you can just throw personal space out of the window or say something even just a little bit flustering, he'll go red in quick seconds!

even midoriya can make himself blush when he leans forward to kiss or hug you, pulling away with his cheeks sporting a pink hue.

you could also be talking or showing off your quirk and he'll blush while starting to ramble in awe.

will he hide his blush? it really depends! if his hands or mind are occupied with objects or thoughts he won't, but if he's so flustered to the point he'll get super shy, that's when he will cower behind his hands and step back for a moment.

his cheeks go red from either your touch or words, and midoriya definitely needs a little break after every time he gets physical contact with you LOL

KATSUKI BAKUGO

blushes by the tips of his ears.

if you ever point out his blush (to his mortification), he'll absolutely deny everything and tell you that you aren't seeing straight at all

even bakugo's hands warm up when he's flustered... it's an instinct because of his quirk and he internally hates himself when you notice it

bonks the back of your head if you tease him too much, to the point where even his face warms up from the obvious denial he's in

he ABSOLUTELY does the childish thing where he covers his ears and rambles on about how he can't hear you at all, and plus that hides his blazing, red ears

while bakugo is deadpan and "calm" most of the time, i feel like he will very much blush if you just whisper in his ear or suddenly poke at his sides (ticklish bakugo?!)

... just try not to tease him too much and get exploded up as a result..

SHOTO TODOROKI

really tries not to, but ends up having a small blush on his cheeks.

if you catch him staring at you, he'll definitely try to avert his gaze and blush a little bit!

he sometimes doesn't even know that he's blushing, only noticing if you point it out or after he realizes that he's thinking about you a bit too much

tease him and todoroki will just huff and look away, knowing that he can't deny it at all because it's visually evident that he is blushing

he also doesn't bother completely hiding his blush since you've already seen it, but he does attempt to cover half of his face and avert his gaze from you (especially if you try to stand in his line of vision, it just makes him blush even more)

he doesn't blush when you say something flirtatious (cough cough midoriya and bakugo cough cough), but he will absolutely blush if you say anything flustering without the intentions of even teasing him

i also see him as someone who isn't ticklish but would blush from acts of service, like you preparing his favorite food for him or taking care of him when he's sick

put a ring on it.

premise. snippets of daily life between a humble servant and an increasingly clingy master.

word count. 5.4k

note. reader full of snark + dumbass in love ayato = gratuitous amount of banter. i have to say that ayato never goes out of line though, and you're not actually bothered by his advances; you're just a massive tsundere.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

“Is that so?”

The noncommittal response pointedly marks the end of his acknowledgement as Ayato makes no effort to sit up, remaining slumped against your frame. His head rests upon your shoulder, a ticklish sensation blooming where your neck and chin meet. Light blue hair trail prickling heat where it grazes your skin, an itch you can't quite scratch away.

Even so, the discomfort doesn't reflect on your face, frigid expression carefully layered with blankness. His sinking weight fails to impede your immaculate posture, refined poise a great disparity from his leisurely disposition. It paints an odd picture, the ordinarily faultless heir lacking decorum—though granted the freedom to do as he wishes in the private confines of his room, it is a mystery why a servant such as you is... graciously permitted to bask in his exclusive company. In the private confines of his room. You feel the need to emphasize that detail.

In his hands lay a scroll concerning governmental affairs, urgent matters that demand his attention, so you can't begin to comprehend why he insists on using this time to harass reward a lowly attendant with his valuable presence when there is business to attend to.

He leans more of his weight to your side, and he—you nearly sputter indignantly—mimics an action that can almost be described as nuzzling. “Mhm. This is convenient for me, since I've hardly found the time to rest today. Do you find it intolerable?”

Ignoring the last bit, you advise, “Perhaps it would be more effective if you were to rest in your chambers. I will come call when the Kanjou Commission asks for you.”

He pretends to consider it for a moment, the silence filled with the quiet jingle of wind chimes. But predictably, the corners of his mouth hook up to an impish smile. “I would prefer to stay, if you don't mind?”

Resigned to your fate, you can only say, “Of course not, my lord.”

For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.

In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.

Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, an assortment of exquisite wagashi produced only by the best. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.

Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”

He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?

But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.

The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”

Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to accept his gifts with gratitude!

(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.

But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)

Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid. It was only a matter of time.

“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”

Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.

Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.

“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”

That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.

“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.

You have half a mind to shift the responsibility to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would certainly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'll say next.)

You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.

...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.

But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.

Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.

His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lays on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.

(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.

He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)

When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”

“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”

He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.

“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”

She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.

“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”

“Yes, of course! You may go.”

Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.

At least she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. Small mercies. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)

For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma has already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.

Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.

Regardless of your protests, Ayato insists on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.

However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)

“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.

“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito candy in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”

You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”

He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”

You purse your lips, considering your options. It isn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”

The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”

“Recommendations?”

“Places you like to visit.”

During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.

“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” You scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”

And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.

Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.

“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.

It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.

He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”

He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.

“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”

You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”

“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.

“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”

“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”

“Of course, my lord.”

On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.

--

The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.

Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.

...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.

It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing torrents that freeze in displeasure yet inexplicably gentle the moment they meet your eyes, akin to gentle sea waves that pad to your feet.

(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)

“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”

The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You haven't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.

“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”

He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”

Incorrigible.

“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.

“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”

Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the supplies being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces slightly. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”

He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.

“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”

“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”

Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”

--

The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.

The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.

The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.

Ah, right. The tea breaks.

You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.

The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.

The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.

The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You have only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)

By the seventh day, you begin to doubt the calendar. There is no way it's only been a single week.

--

“How do I look?”

“Positively charming,” is your dry answer.

“You're not looking.”

Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”

He shakes his head, taking off the robes he's been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”

Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip, and also presumably when he bought the ring for you. Recently, you've taken to pondering over the specifics; did he commission it beforehand? But how would he have known for certain you'd be visiting the store that day to give it to you later that afternoon? You were only planning to get groceries... Unless he was planning to give it another time? If so, in what occasion did he want to present it as a gift? What prompted him to give it to you earlier? ...Did he see your longing gaze on the jewelry?!

No, no, no, you made sure none of that showed on your face... Did he mean to give it to you that day? He somehow predicted you'd cave to his whims and show him around town? Then when you were gone, he retrieved the ring he commissioned, hitting two birds with one stone in a single trip?

...Knowing your sly lord, the idea isn't so far-fetched to be unbelievable...

To this day, you have yet to solve the mystery. But Thoma doesn't need to know your current musings. You shake your head. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”

“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”

“I didn't mention any names.”

“But you clearly meant him.”

He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring has been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?

Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.

“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”

If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.

“Even if they aren't...” You fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”

“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”

Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.

You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.

In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.

In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?

(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)

“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope.” He laughs even as you elbow his side.

A week.

(That is one week too long.)

--

When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.

Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.

Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.

So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniff in response and brush him off as a hallucination.

But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand close by. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”

But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before dutifully offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician, the saddened expression gone like a mirage.

“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”

As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.

“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”

“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”

It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the folding screens obscuring the orange glow of the evening. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”

He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.

Interesting.

Though Ayato meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.

“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.

Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.

He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.

“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”

Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.

“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.

“It's better to be careful...” Your brows knit together, and he kisses the tiny furrow away too.

“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”

“That's a stupid reason to recover...” You murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.

In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.

--

When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.

Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.

...Fuck.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where they lay below.

“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”

“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”

“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”

He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”

“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers.” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”

Not yet anyway, he doesn't say.

“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” You purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.

“Wedded.”

“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.

“So will you consider it?”

“My lord.”

“What?”

You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”

He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”

He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.

...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?

“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.

You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.

You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”

“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.

“Too bad you're stuck with me forever, huh?”

2:08 a.m. — Kuroo Tetsurou

❀ best friends to lovers

“Are you asleep?”

Kuroo’s voice was soft as it sounded from next to you. He tried to keep quiet, not wanting to wake you, but there was something that was keeping him up.

After a brief moment of silence he peaked his head up from his pillow to look at you.

Your arm was tucked under your pillow as you hugged it to you. Strands of your hair fell perfectly into your eyes and your chest rose and fell slowly in your slumber.

You never looked more beautiful in Kuroo’s eyes than you did now.

As badly as he wanted to talk to you about what was making his chest burn, seeing you like this was more important.

He shifted slowly trying not to stir the bed too much as he tried to get closer to you, his head now resting on the pillow next to yours instead of at the foot of the bed.

“You’re so beautiful…” He mumbled, his hand just a mere inch away from your face now.

He wanted to brush the hair from your eyes, to kiss every part of your face goodnight. He wanted to hug you into his chest while you used him as a pillow.

More than any time he’d felt this before, he wanted to tell you how he felt. He’d been your best friend for a long time but in the past few months he loved you more than a friend should.

“God damn why are you so perfect. You make this so hard, you know.”

He whispered turning to lay on his back now and shutting his eyes softly.

The image of you asleep with the smallest of smiles touching your lips was burned into the dark side of his eyes.

“When are you going to let me tell you how in love I am with you?”

As he slowly fell asleep to the image of you, he missed your smile grow bigger.

He didn’t need to know you’d been awake since he slipped under the covers, you could always tell him the same thing in the morning.

bakugou says he doesn’t do pda but won’t let go of your hand at the Hero gala from the moment you step out of the car and make it onto the red carpet until you’re seated side by side at your table.

in fact, not only does he hold your hand, tightly and intentionally, he brings your hand to his lips intermittently, looking straight at the cameras, as though he wants to make it sufficiently clear that he is taken, smitten by you. and only you.

and he won’t take any pictures alone, not by a long shot - in fact, he would growl at each and every one of these reporters if not for the fact that you enjoy talking to them, introducing him, yourself and your coupledom to the world.

bakugou doesn’t like public displays of affection, but him, in public with you, is affection embodied, and all can see his rare smile is not rare when he is besotted with you.

— how to woo the acting grand sage 101

wherein you pull out all the stops in an effort to persuade alhaitham on why he should date you, only… he woos you instead?!

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 7.8k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, angst if you squint, reader gets ill from overwork in one part, slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (brief mentions/recap of end events)

A/N : reader is struggling but they’re trying their best, alhaitham is a (smitten) menace and bad at feelings (kinda); the embodiment of u fall first, he falls harder (i just think we need more energetic/cute readers with haitham TヘT)

It wasn’t anything special. Really. Just you, your first day jitters, and the calm boy beside you in his Haravatat beret; the same one as yours.

Perhaps he’d noticed your flitting eyes, your shifting feet, or your wrung hands that swung gently in front of your robe-clad body because, when your eyes met (and, oh, what pretty eyes he had), he gave you a small nod. Of what? Comfort? Acknowledgement? Salutations?

You couldn’t tell, and you couldn’t ask. By the time you regained your senses he’d already walked off, the blank space beside you feeling strangely empty.

It wasn’t anything special.

But to you, that one, singular moment was all you needed; the comfort it gave was immeasurable, your first day jitters nonexistent.

Keep reading

my MOVEmber workout plan

start date: friday, november 1

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚୨୧

day 1: 30 minute pms & menstrual pain workout + 20 minute lower back workout & stretch

day 2: 44 minute core & mobility

day 3: 30 minute pilates

day 4: 30 minute walking cardio + 15 minute stretch

day 5: 45 minute yoga

day 6: 30 minute full body strength + 10 minute stretch

day 7: 35 minute pilates x mobility

day 8: 30 minute hiit + 10 minute stretch

day 9: 45 minute yoga

day 10: 30 minute pilates

day 11: 30 minute full body + 20 minute yoga

day 12: 40 minute mobility & dynamic stretch

day 13: 30 minute cardio + 25 minute yoga

day 14: 1 hour yoga & breathwork

day 15: 30 minute full body strength + 20 minute stretch

day 16: 30 minute stretch

day 17: 30 minute yoga hiit fusion

day 18: 45 minute power pilates

day 19: 30 minute hiit + 20 minute full body + 10 minute stretch

day 20: 30 minute yoga

day 21: 30 minute full body + 10 minute stretch

day 22: 30 minute hiit + 25 minute stretch

day 23: 45 minute yoga

day 24: 30 minute mobility & strength

day 25: 45 minute strength & cardio

day 26: 30 minute stretch

day 27: 30 minute slim leg workout + 15 minute slim leg stretch

day 28: 30 minute pilates core

day 29: 30 minute hiit

day 30: 1 hour yoga

bakugo katsuki was exhausted. scorch marks were smeared against his skin and complimented by a litter of scratches and cuts. the trip home was quiet, the usual buzz of the city nightlife faint in his ringing ears. all his senses were dulled and numb, but as soon as you came into view and your fingertips grazed his cheek, they all suddenly came into razor focus.

he inhaled the smell of your familiar body wash, stared right into those big beautiful eyes of yours, and sagged at the touch of your sweet hands cupping his face– gave into it and nearly collapsed. but you held him up.

silently you brought him inside, and sat him down on the couch so you could treat his wounds and bruises. you pressed a delicate kiss to his temple before going to get the first aid kit. you come back to kneel beside him, and begin the practiced routine of cleaning and bandaging his wounds. his throat was thick as he watched you work, and some thorny thing wrapped around his heart and tightened, digging into his gummy flesh as he watches how practiced and fluent your movements have become from the amount of times he’s come back home slashed and torn, always having to fix him back up again and again and again-

“tomorrow.” he chokes out, his hand reaching out to rest on your cheek. “we can finish this tomorrow. i just want to sleep.” your lips open for moment, but then purse in defeat and you nod silently, heaving his arm over your shoulder to carry some of his weight as you make your way to your shared bedroom.

hairline fractures in his soul grew deeper and deeper with each struggled step, each thump of his dragging feet, each laboured breath. but each time you press a kiss to him and your gentle hands glide over his blackened skin, he could feel each one mend itself one by one.