Hello, i really love your Misawa fic "Feelings that you've never known before aren't my fault" at ao3. I want to ask for your permission to translate it into vietnamese, I promise I will fill the necessary credit and link back to your fic here. If you have any other condition, please tell me.
hi there! (*＾▽＾)／ aaah, thank you so much! i’m so happy that even 3 years later people are still enjoying that fic 💖
yep, you have my permission to translate it! no other conditions apart from the ones you already mentioned~ good luck with translating! ✨
#1. Lucas and Jungwoo go ice skating. Jungwoo isn’t very good, and Lucas has to help him.
“You’re not allowed to laugh, no matter what! Okay?”
Lucas forces his mouth to turn downwards into a neutral expression before nodding solemnly in agreement. By the looks of Jungwoo’s unimpressed face, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. His hyung’s wide-eyed look of terror makes him want to break down into pearls of laughter, and the urge to coo and pinch his cheeks is getting stronger by the second. Lucas was the one who’d suggested they spent one of their rare free days doing something fun. Jungwoo hadn’t made any complaints about them going ice skating right up until they were moments away from stepping onto the rink, where he’s now having a minor freak out.
“I won’t laugh! We’re just here for a bit of fun, you know?” Lucas says the last part in English while flashing a charming smile in hopes of calming down the other.
Jungwoo doesn’t take any notice as he’s too busy focusing on teetering around the entrance way, getting more and more worked up. Despite it all being slightly over dramatic, the sight makes Lucas’s heart flutter and his stomach twist with butterflies.
“Here,” Lucas begins, skating forward close enough that his outstretched hand is easy enough to grab onto, “hold my hand so you won’t fall. I promise you won’t get hurt!”
Jungwoo narrows his eyes at the offered hand but grabs it without hesitation. Lucas bites down on his bottom lip to fend off an on coming smile.
“You’re grinning,” Jungwoo comments sourly, letting Lucas know that he’d failed to keep a straight face, but the flush on his cheeks suggests that he isn’t mad at all.
Lucas tugs at their joint hands to encourage Jungwoo to step onto the ice, “if you take too long, the ice will melt and then we’ll have to go home!”
“Xuxi, I don’t think that’s -”
He’s cut off when Lucas tugs again, a lot harder this time, and Jungwoo stumbles straight onto the ice. A small scream echoes through the rink, but it’s overtaken by Lucas’s laughter as he winds his arms firmly around Jungwoo’s waist to keep him steady. Any warm flush of colour on his face has been washed away with a queasy shade of white, yet it doesn’t stop him from laughing along too.
“Thanks,” Jungwoo says through bursts of laughter, not bothering to pull away from Lucas’s hold just yet.
“No problem, man!” Lucas replies with a giant grin on his face. “I don’t think we can skate like this, though…”
Jungwoo snorts and attempts to stand up straight, holding onto Lucas’s shoulders to help keep him steady.
“Since I already broke the promise about not laughing at you, I guess I’ll just have to make right on mine to hold your hand to make sure you don’t fall over.”
Big doe eyes meet his, there’s a prolonged silence that makes Lucas nervous that maybe he’d taken it a bit too far.
“Of course - that’s the least you could do,” Jungwoo finally replies, voice soft.
Barely after the last word is out of his mouth, Lucas reaches up to grasp at one of the hands on his shoulder. He entwines their fingers together and squeezes reassuringly, a small smile on his face.
“Now let’s go have fun!”
hi! I'm writing bc I really loved your work bout jimin and yoongi(together&black tea) and don't you mind if I translate them into my language? it's be great if more people could read them :)
hey there! thank you so much, i’m really happy you loved them enough to want to translate them! (*⌒▽⌒*)θ～♪ that’s totally okay - all I ask is to credit the original works, and send me the links to the translations so I can add an author’s note of them on my fics for other people to find ♡ good luck with translating!
#4. Victor decides to adopt four puppies, much to Yuuri’s (faked) dismay.
Yuuri should’ve realised that something was wrong as soon as he stepped into their apartment. It was quiet, too quiet; especially since Victor was supposed to be at home. He’d even left practice early, citing not feeling well as a reason for leaving. No one had put up a fight since Victor never left practice early - for any reason - so Yuuri supposes that should’ve been a warning sign. He wasn’t sure what for, though.
He kicks his shoes off by the door, taking his time to unravel his scarf and take off his coat as he attempts to listen for any noises coming from further within. Once he’s done with his coat, and there’s still no sign of life, he feels anxiety begin to form in the pit of his stomach.
“Vitya?” he calls out, taking a few steps further into the apartment. No response. He’s in the kitchen now, and it doesn’t even look like anything’s changed since him and Victor ran out the house because they were late for their bus to the ice rink. There’s still even their half finished coffee mugs on the counter.
Yuuri furrows his eyebrows, now at a complete loss at where Victor could be. He’s about to reach for his phone in his back pocket when he hears the door open, and a lot of noise follows that sounds suspiciously like barking and whimpering.
He runs back to the entrance way, and what he sees makes his jaw drop.
Victor, with four different breeds of dogs all on leashes. In their apartment. Right in front of him.
Victor looks up suddenly, as if feeling Yuuri’s presence, and he beams charmingly. The puppies are absolutely wild, sniffing everything and getting tangled in each other’s leads as neither Victor or Yuuri move to stop them.
Victor’s carefree grin turns into something more sheepish, and he’s now having a hard time looking Yuuri in the eye.
“Um…” Victor begins, laughing nervously and finally meeting Yuuri’s expecting gaze, “surprise?”
Yuuri forces a frown on his face and folds his arms in attempt at avoiding leaning down to pet and fuss the puppies, “what on earth is this, Victor?”
One of the puppies trip up over its own legs, letting out a surprised ‘woof’ as it falls. Yuuri’s bottom lip wobbles in resistance to start cooing at it.
“Ah, I, uh, went to a dog shelter… and… I couldn’t just leave them there, Yuuri! They were begging for a home!” Victor whines, pulling a face as sweet as the four puppies in front of him.
Yuuri sighs, there are so many reasons as to why they shouldn’t: they were busy with practice, travelled all over the world consistently, and had barely any time to spend with their one dog - let alone four more. Why did Victor even go to a dog shelter in the first place?!
But…
“Fine.” Yuuri says abruptly, and it’s worth everything to see the smile that blooms on his husband’s face. He feels himself smiling back on reflex, and kneels down and opens his arms to the puppies. They all barrel forward with no hesitance, licking and pawing at Yuuri, their tails wagging so forcefully their whole bodies move with it.
“Welcome home,” he laughs, taking time to kiss each one of them on the head, and watches as Victor crouches down to welcome them too.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
loosely based on @skygemspeaks retirement au! (but featuring a high school reunion)
(i hope you like it, thank you for writing such a wonderful prompt!)
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“Mum? What’s wrong?” he might be 27 and retired, but his anxiety never gets easier about the smaller things.
“Yuuri! Oh, don’t worry, nothing’s wrong!” Hiroko chirped through the speakers. It’s not quite enough to quell his nervous thoughts just yet. “I got a letter for you in the post; it looked quite important so I opened it incase it was time sensitive, and it turns out it’s a high school reunion invite!”
#3. Yuuri has something that Victor desperately wants. Yuuri won't give it up easily.
“Yuuuuuri, please!” Victor whines, nuzzling his forehead into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. “Just one!”
“Nope,” Yuuri pops the ‘p’ and glances down at the mop of silver hair that’s tickling his bare skin. He won’t cave this time, he won’t.
Victor pulls back slightly to rest his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder and pouts. Yuuri sniffs indignantly but can’t hide the slight flush on his cheeks at their close proximity. They’ve been married for over a year now and dating for longer, but Yuuri’s never quite gotten used to how beautiful Victor is.
“I’ll give you 300 yen?” Victor suggests, grinning cheekily.
Yuuri rolls his eyes, “that’s basically nothing, you know that right?”
Victor’s shoulders sag and he purposely leans more of his body weight onto Yuuri. He stumbles forward with the extra weight, so Victor winds his arms around Yuuri’s waist to stabilise him. His body is now pressed fully against Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri can feel his resolve crumble slightly.
“I’ll do the dishes for a week?”
Yuuri scoffs, “impossible.”
“I’ll…” Victor pauses to press a light kiss to the hinge of Yuuri’s jaw, “pay you in kisses instead?”
Yuuri hums, pretending to think seriously about his offer. It was tempting, but he wasn’t to be easily swayed this time!
“Please, Yuuri,” Victor’s voice drops an octave. It sends goosebumps rippling across his skin and a pleased shiver down his spine. He made a valiant effort against Victor’s charms, but Yuuri has his limits.
“Ugh, fine!” Yuuri spits out, and before he’s even finished the sentence Victor is already sprinting towards the kitchen.
Not even a minute later, Victor’s back and his mouth is surrounded by cookie crumbs. Yuuri glares at him. That was his last cookie he was saving for tomorrow!
“If you’re sick because you ate it too fast, it’s not my fault.”
Victor beams and smushes Yuuri’s cheeks between his two hands, pressing kisses all over his face and playfully making loud 'mwah!’ noises each time. Yuuri ignores the itch of crumbs transferring onto his face and laughs happily at his husband’s antics.
#2. Victor and Yuuri are handcuffed together and they’ve lost the key.
“It’ll be fun, you said, don’t worry, you said, well guess what-”
“I’m so sorry, Yuuri!”
Yuuri was, to put it lightly, fuming. His husband had waltzed into their bedroom earlier, hips swaying while swinging around a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs. It’d all topped off with a suggestive smirk, and that was all it’d taken for the blood in Yuuri’s head to rush down south and for him to nod his enthusiastic consent. That’s why he’s not to blame for what’s happening right now; he was incapable of thinking logically to help them avoid getting into this terrible mess.
“Who buys a pair of handcuffs without the keys, Victor?! Who!”
“I do,” Victor mutters sadly.
“That was a rhetorical question!” Yuuri yells, looking down at their joint hands. Victor had unthinkingly cuffed their hands together rather than just Yuuri’s, and now they were sat in their underwear, uncomfortably hard and, oh, did he mention? Handcuffed together without a damn key!
“What are you going to do about this?!”
“Yuuri, you have to help too! We got into this together!” Victor whines, attempting to use his puppy dog eyes to soften Yuuri’s anger.
Despite everything, the wide-eyed innocent look was working and Yuuri feels his annoyance begin to fade. He exhales and glances away so he could think clearly for a moment.
Struck with an idea, Yuuri narrows his eyes and looks straight at Victor, “if you don’t get these handcuffs off within the next hour, you’re sleeping on the sofa for a month.”
--
In an hour’s time, the look of absolute fear on Victor’s face at that threat would be hilarious, and they’d both laugh at how they reacted to it all. For now though, Victor’s left scrambling for his phone to search sketchy websites on how to pick a lock, along with having Yuuri shouting at him in all the languages he knew to tell him to hurry up.
Hello, can I just say I loved you're hangover Victuri and I was wondering if I could.possibly film it and put it on youtube? Of course I'd give you all the appropriate credit. I understand if you don't want me to
Ohh, thank you so much! I’m happy you liked it! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
and yes, that’s totally fine. I’m very flattered that you even want to do that! As long as I’m properly credited, you can go right ahead! Please send me a link once you’ve done it, I’d love to see it~♡
#1. Victor has a hangover, but Yuuri is feeling fine.
“Victor, you can’t stay in bed all day.” Yuuri says while standing in the doorway as he watches his husband wriggle around in bed.
He doesn’t get a proper reply, instead he gets muffled noises which sound like Russian curses and pitiful groans.
Yuuri walks to the bed and pokes what he thinks is Victor’s shoulder.
“Get up, it’s one in the afternoon. We have to clean up.”
Yuuri sighs as he just gets more groaning as an answer. His husband is an absolute baby.
“I said get up!” Yuuri reaches over the bed to grab onto the covers and swiftly pulls them off all in one go. The sight he sees is absolutely pathetic.
Victor is curled up in a fetal position, his skin is sickly pale with a dark red flush across his cheeks. He’s also pouting, which Yuuri isn’t surprised about.
“Nooooo!” Victor whines, writhing around and blindly reaching out to try and grab the blankets back, “Yuuri, I’m dying! Let me wallow in self pity!”
Yuuri rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the slight smile on his face at Victor’s childish whining. Victor has always been hopelessly endearing even when he’s being annoying.
“Whose fault was it that they got drunk last night, huh? Whose idea was it to down endless shots of vodka just because they didn’t want to lose a bet?”
Victor pries one eye open to look up at Yuuri, the pout on his face deepening at his words.
“How are you alive right now? You drank more than me!” Victor croaks out.
Yuuri grins, “it’s a trade secret. Now, get up!”
Victor let out a wail, and Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh in reply.
you're warmer than the scent of a caffè latte; victor/yuuri; ao3 link
g rating; 1090 words
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Yuuri buries his nose deeper into the warmth of his thick navy scarf as he walks down the path leading from his apartment. His shoes crunch satisfyingly against the autumn leaves scattered on the path. It was a bitter and frosty Saturday morning, typical for the month they were currently in. Yuuri doesn't want to think about why he's awake so early on a rare day off from practice, but the craving for coffee and to see a certain someone seems to be his best excuse.
He turns a corner, and the little coffee shop at the end of the street is now in his view. His mouth waters slightly as a strong scent of coffee floats his way. Even through his scarf he can smell it, and with a bubbling anticipation in his stomach, he speeds up his pace.
Once he’s finally arrived, he pushes the door open and a warm gush of air hits his face, fogging up his glasses. Yuuri pulls the scarf down and inhales, just the smell of freshly grinded coffee beans wakes him up and mentally prepares him for the day ahead. As soon his glasses clear, a small smile forms on his face as he sees a familiar looking person behind the counter with his back facing him. He seems to be humming along to the current song on the radio, hips swaying playfully as he prepares the coffee machines for service.
Yuuri walks up to the counter and taps the little bell on the marble top, the little ding alerting the barista.
The humming stops immediately as the guy turns around to face Yuuri. Their eyes meet and Yuuri can already feel himself blushing. The guy behind the counter smiles widely, tiny crinkles appearing at the corners of his bright blue eyes.
"Yuuri! Good morning!" he greets, and just his voice is enough to get Yuuri’s heart racing.
"Good morning, Victor," Yuuri replies a little shakily.
At the mention of his name, Victor’s face brightens up, “you remembered my name!”
Of course I did, Yuuri thinks, you’re the guy that I’ve been hopelessly pining over for the past three months since I found this place.
“Yeah,” is what Yuuri says instead. He cringes at how lame that sounds, already wishing he had said something else.
Seemingly undeterred by Yuuri’s awkwardness, Victor powers on like a champ.
“So what’ll it be this morning, Yuuri?” Victor beams, his mouth curving into the shape of a heart.
He has such a nice smile, Yuuri thinks dreamily before he can relay his order.
“Oh, thank you!” Victor says, with what looks like a light flush to his cheeks, “service with a smile is what I aim for, you know.” He flips his fringe out of his eye with a dramatic flair.
A heavy feeling fills his stomach as Yuuri realises he said that out loud.
“I’m sorry! Ah- I, uh, sorry if that was weird or - it was the truth, but, um -,” Yuuri stutters while waving his hands around frantically.
Victor waves him off, a softer smile on his face now, “don’t worry about it, I like getting compliments from people as cute as you.”
The noise Yuuri makes at that is not human in the slightest, and he’s pretty sure he’s hearing things wrong. He presses his palms to his bright red cheeks to try and cool himself down.
“I’m not cute,” he chokes out through his embarrassment.
Victor blinks at him owlishly as if he doesn’t understand what he’s saying, “of course you are.”
“But-”
“Nope!” Victor cuts him off before he can finish, “no arguing, my decision is final.”
At that, the fight leaves Yuuri in a whoosh of breath, and he’s left feeling light headed and in awe.
“C-can I have an cappuccino?” Yuuri asks as an attempt to desperately change the subject. He did, after all, come here for coffee too!
The heart shaped smile appears on Victor’s face again, and Yuuri’s heart thumps alarmingly. This man is dangerous to his health.
“To take out or to stay in?” Victor inquires, already pressing buttons on the register.
Yuuri glances over his shoulder to see white snowflakes floating down and settling on the ground, and his nose scrunches up at the thought of walking back home in that.
“To stay in, please.”
Victor presses the last button with a dramatic flourish, “that’ll be three twenty-five, please!”
Yuuri digs around in his coat pocket for his spare change and hands over the correct amount after sorting through it.
Victor gestures to the table and chairs behind Yuuri, "take a seat. I'll bring it over."
"Thank you." Yuuri replies, and Victor flashes one last heart failure inducing smile before he goes to make the drink.
Yuuri turns on his heels and walks towards the table right by the window, trying not to look too much of in a rush to sit down as his knees were beginning to turn to jelly.
He sits down heavily on the wooden chair and unwinds his scarf from around his neck and places it on the opposite side of the table. His eyes shift to look out the window but the condensation obstructs it. He frowns, and wipes a hand over the glass to clear it so he can peer out. It seems like only a second passes while he watches people walk by and snowflakes fall before he’s alerted that his drink has arrived.
"One cappuccino!" Victor sing-songs as he places the cup and saucer in front of Yuuri, "enjoy." he winks and strolls back to the counter, long silver hair swishing behind him.
Yuuri is left gaping and flushed from the wink that he doesn’t get a chance to reply with a thanks.
He lets out a shaky sigh and glances down at the cup before bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. He cringes as the hot liquid burns his mouth as he swallows, quickly going to place the mug back down on the saucer to let it cool down. Before he can set the cup back, he spots a napkin with ink stains on it. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion and puts his cup on the table so he can look at it properly.
Yuuri is extremely glad he’s not still holding his cup before seeing what was written on the napkin, because he’s about 100% sure he’s about to fall off his chair at what he reads.
I’ve been crushing on you, baby; victor/yuuri; ao3 link
t rating; 3382 words
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i.
The ice beneath him is cold and unforgiving as he flubbed another jump. He lands on his side with a wince and a yelp. Yuuri knows it’s going to bruise, yet he can’t bring himself to care as he stares across the rink in awe. Victor is still stretching on his own; his body twisting and bending as he loosens up his muscles. He’d been complaining earlier that he had to start being extra careful now, what with his age and how he wasn’t as flexible as he used to be.
What a liar, Yuuri thinks bitterly as he carries on watching. Yuuri knows he’s being obvious and that he’s staring without shame - but he can’t help it as his eyes trail over the curve of Victor’s ass as he bends down. He watches breathlessly as Victor holds his position for a few seconds before standing up straight again to move into a lunge. His back muscles shift under his tight t-shirt and Yuuri can even see a clear outline of his muscular thighs underneath his leggings.
Everything Victor wears is form fitting and clingy, outlining and extenuating every muscle and define line that makes up his body. Yuuri is hopelessly enraptured and easily distracted by it, and can’t do anything but swallow down the saliva gathering in his mouth and attempt to ignore the dark swirl of arousal in the pit of his stomach.
Yuuri knew, objectively, that Victor was hot. He’d spent the majority of his life growing up with posters of him plastered across every inch of his bedroom walls, along with him as his laptop background and a secret folder full of any fan or press taken photos he could get his hands on. The difference being is that now Victor is right in front of him - living with him, eating with him, and even bathing with him. Seeing Victor through YouTube videos or pixelated live streams is a lot different than seeing Victor through his own eyes as he lives and breathes in the same space. The knowledge of Victor being hot had suddenly become a lot realer, and it had become a problem. A very distracting problem, at that.
It’s driving Yuuri crazy, and even worse is that Victor’s not even doing it on purpose most of the time. Once they’d visited the beach together - having come to an understanding that made Yuuri’s heart soar with hope and happiness - Victor had toned down the overdone clinginess and become a lot more natural. There were still small touches between them though: an arm thrown over his shoulder, a gentle thumb swiping away a stray grain of rice from his cheek, and a warm hug at the end of practice. The worst thing (or maybe the best thing) is now these actions seem to be more genuine and with real feeling behind them. Each one makes Yuuri’s heart flutter and his stomach twist, and he accepts begrudgingly that he’s in deep. Suddenly Yuuri’s centre of gravity has been knocked off axis so that it evolved around Victor; he can’t bear to stay away too long or look away without feeling a pull to reel him back in.
God, the things he’d do just to be able to reach out and touch -
“Yuuri?” Victor’s questioning voice rang out through the rink, “what are you doing?”
Yuuri was up in an instant, cringing at his wet clothes and numb skin while also trying to ignore the hot flush on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” Yuuri blurts out, his voice echoing around the rink.
Victor raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, “What, fall over? Yuuri, you cannot promise me that.”
Yuuri flinches, the statement is true but it still didn’t mean the words didn’t sting. A moment passed between them that ended when Victor shook his head, a small smile on his face and his hair moving like rippling silk.
“C’mon, let’s start practice! Show me your true Eros, Yuuri!”
--
ii.
It had never occurred to Yuuri that the dark olive green jinbei that Victor had adopted as his loungewear could be so obscene. It was a plain piece of clothing, thin and light enough to stay comfortable in despite the heat and humidity from the onsen. Then again, it was Victor who was wearing it, and Victor seemed to have a personal vendetta against wearing it properly. This led to a poorly tied knot that barely kept the robe securely wrapped around his torso, and caused a large amount of his naked chest to show.
Yuuri curses every entity he could think of, but then thanked them in the same breath because he couldn’t deny that he thoroughly enjoyed the glimpse of Victor’s pink nipples he got. Despite the fact that the jinbei was also probably a few sizes too big, it still managed to cinch in enough at the waist and wrap around Victor’s thighs to hint teasingly at his fit and athletic body.
Yuuri imagines that he probably looks as red as a lobster by now. There was always a small niggling feeling of guilt and shame at the back of his mind when he couldn’t bring to tear his eyes away from Victor, but the need to drink in the sight before him outweighed it all.
They’re sat in the main room; empty sake cups scattered across the low rise table and Yuuri’s legs have pins and needles from sitting in the seiza position for so long. He didn’t trust himself to stretch out like Victor had; instead choosing to keep his hands balled into fists and resting on his thighs in an attempt at resisting the urge to reach out and smooth a hand across the expanse of Victor’s exposed chest. Yuuri wonders idly that if he was allowed, would Victor enjoy it? Would he push up into Yuuri’s touch, silently asking for more as his fingers grazed coyishly against his skin? Would he like it if Yuuri pressed soft, loving kisses down his chest to show his appreciation? Yuuri absentmindedly bit his bottom lip, his brain turning to mush as his thoughts continued to get more and more heated.
“Oh my! Yuuri, did you see-” Victor’s voice cut abruptly through his inner monologuing, making him flinch so hard he almost topples over.
“Yuuri? Are you okay?”
“Yes!” Yuuri replies, pushing his glasses up in a nervous tic. His eyes flit between the tabletop surface and Victor’s concerned facial expression.
Victor tilts his head to the side while still focusing on Yuuri, and it was so endearing he has to choke back a whine at the sight.
“Are you sure? Your face is really red.”
Yuuri cleared his throat and nods hesitantly, “I’m just tired, but I’ll be okay.”
Victor clearly didn’t buy what Yuuri was saying (he had always been a terrible liar) but he just nodded back in acceptance of his words.
Suddenly Victor’s expression brightens, “anyway, look at what’s on TV! Japanese shows are so strange.”
Victor turns his attention back to whatever he was watching and Yuuri sighs in relief that the subject was changed. He let himself have one more lingering glance at Victor’s chest before also turning his attention to what ridiculous show he was meant to be watching.
--
iii.
Yuuri knows he’s not a bad person. He did well in school, passing his exams with slightly above average grades. He tries his best to be polite to people, despite his crushing anxiety and shy nature. He got back up again after his humiliating defeat at last year's GPF, his love and passion for skating overcoming the depressive rut he’d found himself in.
So Yuuri knows he’s not the worst person on the planet, but with the way that he’s being tested by every god out there makes him think twice. Maybe he did something horrendous in a past life to deserve this?
This, to be exact, is Victor clinging to him while they’re both wet, completely naked and sat in the onsen. Yuuri is thankful that this time he can pass off the redness that burns his cheeks and the tips of his ears on the heat of the water. What he can’t blame on anything but himself is his very unfortunate erection. There at least must be one higher being looking out for him during this event, considering that the bath water is dark and murky and comes up high enough that it hides anything that is going on beneath it.
Both of Victor’s arms are wrapped loosely around his shoulders and his chin rests lightly near the crook of his neck. Yuuri is spending more time - for once in his life - trying to think about anything but Victor. He avoids thinking about how nice it feels to have their skin pressed against each other, and how every time Victor speaks directly into Yuuri’s ear, his voice low and intimate, it sends shivers down his spine. He avoids thinking about how much he wants to push back into the embrace, to feel Victor’s broad chest against his back, and maybe even -
Dammit.
Yuuri’s plan backfires spectacularly and now he’s even more worked up and light headed than he was before.
The chin perched on his shoulder suddenly digs in harder, making Yuuri yelp and pull away enough to turn his head to face Victor.
“Yuu-ri, you’re not listening to me!” Victor whines childishly.
“S-sorry,” Yuuri says, his tongue tripping over the single word, “I feel a little dizzy.”
Victor pulls back abruptly, and Yuuri misses the weight against him almost instantly.
“If you feel dizzy, you should’ve gotten out. You know that it’s dangerous to stay in here when you’re feeling faint!” Victor replies, his voice chastising.
Yuuri shifts so he can turn to face Victor properly without straining his neck, and it’s only then that Yuuri realises that he can’t get out; not if he wants to avoid dying of sheer embarrassment. The throbbing between his legs is still ever present and doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon with the sight of a wet Victor right in front of him. His eyes automatically latch on to watch as a single drop of water makes its way down the side of Victor’s neck before pooling in the dip of his collar bones.
A flick to his forehead shocks him out of his thoughts and he jolts back into the current situation. He frowns and brings a hand up to rub spot he was flicked, “what was that for?”
“You were ignoring me again!” Victor is pouting, like a spoilt child and Yuuri is annoyingly charmed by it, “you keep zoning out recently, is everything alright? I’m not pushing you too hard in training am I?” Victor reaches out one of his hands to cup Yuuri’s cheeks, cradling it ever so gently. Yuuri leans into the gesture before he can catch himself and his eyes widen almost comically once he realises what he’s doing. He draws back forcefully, whacking his elbow against the stone rim of the bath as he flails around.
“No, training is fine! Perfect, even. Great! Nothing wrong at all!” Yuuri babbles, eyes darting skittishly between Victor and anywhere but Victor. He forces out a nervous laugh, and he is very thankful that he’s now far away enough from Victor that he’s nothing more than a blur without his glasses. He can’t distract me now, Yuuri thinks victoriously.
“Oh,” Victor says, and despite not being able to even see Victor’s face, he knows the expression he’s pulling with that tone of voice. Wide blue eyes, soft long eyelashes fluttering innocently and his lush pink mouth open slightly in shocked surprise. It’s even more ridiculous than usual, the image his mind conjured up looks straight out of a shoujo manga more than anything else.
Yuuri slumps forward in resignation, hiding his face in his hands. “Why do I even bother?” Yuuri moans dejectedly.
--
iv.
Victor has the prettiest fingers. This is a fact that Yuuri has known since he first became a fan. They’re long and slim, with rounded cuticles and perfectly trimmed nails. Yuuri has long since given up trying to look away from Victor, and now just indulges in the fact that he can. No one except from him can say that Victor Nikiforov, the Living Legend of figure skating, is their personal coach. Just thinking about it makes Yuuri’s heart burst from happiness, and he can barely contain himself on some days. This is the man he’d looked up to for most of his life, the man that he’d religiously watched and wished every night that they could meet as equals on the ice someday.
It was his utmost guilty pleasure to be able to watch Victor without the fake smiles and distant attitude. Victor was so animated, even the smallest of things would set off a loud and explosive reaction. At first it had scared Yuuri, he was still shaken from his life time idol showing up at his home - so with every yell and hand movement made him flinch back in shock. Now, after many months of being together, Yuuri finds the actions to be endearing. It was a side of Victor that he rarely showed on camera; always opting to take the cool and collected route instead. He was always poised like he could have his photo taken at any minute and answers to every question already had a formulated response.
The real Victor was annoying, clingy and whiny and loved to tease him. He pouted when he didn’t get his own way, and sulked every time Yuuri declined to sleep in the same bed as him. He was too loud when it was late at night, yelling or laughing joyously with the other patrons at whatever was showing on TV. He was blunt, sometimes insensitive when it came to coaching and managing Yuuri’s anxiety, and always forgot important things.
Despite all that, Yuuri was still completely enamoured by the man.
The real Victor was also cheerful, thoughtful and charming. He laughed at all of Yuuri’s bad jokes, and always made sure that he’d eaten enough and gotten plenty of sleep. He was attentive and listened to Yuuri’s worries, and never made fun of him or interrupted. He was kind, loving, and knew where Yuuri’s boundaries were.
Every minute he spent with Victor was precious - even during the times where they were silent and watching the sky at night, it never felt like a wasted moment. Yuuri never felt pressured to fill up the silence with innate babble or awkward small talk. Victor was a solid, calming presence beside him and he was completely and utterly in love.
Yuuri was still staring at Victor’s hands, watching as they curled around his water bottle and brought it up to his lips. The pale skin of his fingers contrasted heavily with the black plastic, and Yuuri’s mind shortcutted once he noticed the bob of Victor’s adam’s apple as he swallowed down the water.
I’m so screwed, Yuuri thinks without an ounce of irony. Victor makes even the simple task of drinking water look like a planned photoshoot - his head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut and coupled with a hand on his hip. He looked so posed, so effortlessly gorgeous and it was ticking all of Yuuri’s boxes. His grip on his own water bottled tightened at the display, it almost felt like he was watching something that he shouldn’t be.
Victor pulled the nozzle out of his mouth with a wet pop and panted as he regained his breath. Yuuri’s attention then moved from Victor’s hands to his lips, and it took every ounce of his strength to not lean over and press his lips against Victor’s.
“Something on my face, Yuuri?” Victor’s asks, his voice smug.
As if recoiling away from the words and his own thoughts, Yuuri stumbles back a few steps and stares wide-eyed at Victor’s now smirking face.
Yuuri shook his head furiously, hands waving around as he attempted at a stuttered reply. His face was practically on fire at this point.
“Hmm,” Victor hums and presses two fingers against his lips while looking through his lashes at Yuuri, “is there something you want?”
“No!” Yuuri yells, he was embarrassed beyond belief and the look Victor was giving him wasn’t making it any easier for him.
“No?” Victor juts out his bottom lip childishly, “ahh, that’s a shame!”
This is it, Yuuri thought, this is how I die.
Changing from a pout to a pleased grin, Victor places his empty water bottle on the bench and takes a step towards the gap between the boards that led to the ice rink.
“If Yuuri doesn’t want anything, we should get back to practice.” He threw a wink over his shoulder and glided back onto the ice, “hurry up, you still haven’t nailed all your jumps yet!”
The real Victor is annoying, whiny and clingy and loved to tease him, but Yuuri would follow Victor to the ends of the earth if he asked him to.
Maybe for now he’ll just follow him back onto the ice rink though.
--
+1.
The apartment him and Victor now share in St. Petersburg is dark and quiet, the only light coming from the bright moon outside which filtered through their blinds. It casted an unearthly glow over their bed and made Victor’s hair shine.
Yuuri was almost asleep, his eyelids were heavy and the exhaustion of jet lag and moving boxes all day was finally catching up on him. Despite his aching back and sore fingers, he had never felt happier.
“You know,” Victor’s quiet voice cut through the stillness of the night, “I could always feel you staring back when we were in Hasetsu.”
Yuuri feels whatever tendrils of sleep disappear at the words, and his whole body locks up in shock. He sits up from where his head was resting on Victor’s chest and stares down at him in disbelief.
“Wh- what?! Why didn’t you say anything?!” Yuuri asks, his voice high and breaking in the middle. His mind was moving at a mile a minute, he thought he had been getting away with it without Victor noticing! Oh god, all those times where he’d been obviously pining and wanting things he couldn’t have and -
Victor smiles softly, clearly knowing what Yuuri was thinking about. “You weren’t ready then. I might enjoy teasing you, but completely humiliating you was just going to make you pull away from me.”
The panic and dread Yuuri felt gradually ebbed away, even then Victor was always thinking and worrying about him.
Victor lifts one of his hands to cup Yuuri’s cheek, his thumb brushing teasingly across his bottom lip. His soft smile then turned into a sharp grin, “I can’t say I minded though, it did make me quite hot and bothered knowing that you were always following my every move-”
“Victor!” Yuuri squawks, the remnants of embarrassment came back at full force, but he couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter that escaped him.
Soon, they were both laughing at how ridiculous this all was. Yuuri leant down and presses a lingering kiss on Victor’s mouth, relishing in the fact that he was actually allowed to do that now. He pulls back slowly before settling down again with his head resting on Victor’s chest. He flung one of his arms over Victor’s waist and shuffled closer. He glances up once he’s comfy and sees that Victor is still smiling down at him. Even after all this time, that expression still makes his heart flutter.
“You say that like I’ve taken my eyes off you since.” Yuuri says, their gaze still locked. Yuuri takes great pleasure at the rare blush he can see on Victor’s cheeks.
“Ahh~ you sure know how to sweet talk me, Yuuri,” Victor coos.
Yuuri rolls his eyes and grinned, “go to sleep, Vitya,”
“Hai, hai,” Victor replies in Japanese.
They settle back down, the quiet atmosphere from earlier returning.
Yuuri is happy, engaged to the man he loves, and knows exactly how Victor reacts to each intimate touch he’d ever daydreamed about.
Maybe later he’d even tell Victor about all the little details, too.
shelter; magnus/alec; ao3 link
g rating ; 1126 words
-
Alec stood at the bus stop, silently berating himself for not bringing an umbrella or a coat. He glanced at the bus timetable, but it was nothing more than a sodden mess of paper. The Perspex pane that had covered the timetable had come away slightly at the top, allowing the rain to seep inside and ruin it.
He watched as droplets slid down the clear plastic, and couldn't help but sigh.
The rain hammered against the pavement, along with an ice cold gust of wind that muffled the noises of passing cars and people talking.
Alec sighed again, crossing his arms in an attempt to warm himself up. He tried to ignore the droplets of water hitting his exposed neck and arms as it caused an undulation of goose bumps across his skin.
He vaguely remembered Isabelle’s warning this morning to not forget his umbrella and coat – but Isabelle’s ability, as she liked to call it, to predict the weather forecast was usually wrong. And for the past three weeks she had been wrong everyday – apart from the one time she had mentioned it’d rain and he chosen to ignore it. Clearly in this case, he only had himself to blame.
Alec shivered and tipped his head back to look at the sky. He squinted slightly to avoid any of the droplets going in his eyes as he took note of how dark and stormy the sky above him looked. Alec let his eyes slide shut, wincing as a few drops landed on his eyelids.
Alec crossed his arms even tighter, but he’d basically given up any hope of conserving his body heat by now. The droplets hitting his face almost felt soothing after a while, as if they were washing away the stress and troubles of the day. It had been a whirlwind of exam prep and studying, and it wasn’t like this downpour could make anything worse.
Alec opened his mouth to yawn, when the feeling of raindrops hitting his body stopped. The sound of the rain became a quiet hum above him as he slowly opened his eyes, flinching in shock as he was now looking at the inside of a bright red umbrella instead of the sky. He turned his head to observe the man who had appeared to the right of him, and felt the tips of his ears burn in embarrassment. Alec uncrossed his arms and stood up straight as the guy holding the umbrella was looking him up and down, a teasing smirk on his face and his eyes dancing in amusement.
To Alec’s astonishment, the stranger looked completely flawless despite the rain and harsh winds. His hair had remained perfectly styled, his eye makeup firmly in place without a single smudge and his clothes were unruffled. Alec glanced down briefly, and noticed the glittery nails and the multiple rings that adorned the stranger’s slim fingers that were wrapped around the umbrella handle.
Alec opened his mouth to speak - to thank him - but nothing came out.
"Don't worry about it," the guy said, waving his unoccupied hand in a dismissing gesture, as if knowing what Alec had wanted to say, "You looked very sorry for yourself standing here in the rain."
Alec swallowed thickly, and bit down on his bottom lip as well as giving a little appreciative nod, before peeling his lingering gaze away to look down shyly at the ground.
There was a silence, the sound of the rain hitting the umbrella filling up any spaces until:
“Not that I don’t appreciate the wet look, but you’re shivering quite badly.” There was clear concern in the man’s voice, and Alec looked back up to meet his eyes.
“I don’t have a coat,” Alec replied, wincing slightly at the obviousness of the statement.
The guy raised an eyebrow, “I would lend you my coat, but I don’t think it’d fit.”
Alec blinked owlishly and looked at the stranger’s clothes again to see what he was talking about. As his eyes took in the deep purple material of the coat that was perfectly tailored to the man’s physique, he realised that not only would the coat not fit – but it also looked like it costed the same amount as his student debt. He wasn’t interested in fashion at all and tended to live in worn jumpers and ratty jeans, but even he could appreciate how good it looked on the man stood beside him.
“It’s fine,” Alec replied after a moment of silence, “the bus should be here soon anyway.”
The man looked slightly taken aback, “There isn’t another bus for an hour and a half. There was an accident down the high street, so there’s been a diversion.”
“Oh.” Alec frowned slightly, he had no other ways of getting home apart from the bus.
“Well,” the guy began, dragging out the word as a smirk made its way back onto his face, “Why don’t we go grab a coffee and wait inside the café?”
Alec stalled before answering the question, eyes wide in shock. The blush that had faded from the tips of his ears came back at full force, and he could feel his face warming up too.
“Uh,” Alec stuttered, eyes flickering from the ground to the man’s face, “With me? You want to get coffee with me?”
“Unless you see anyone else that I’m talking to, then yes.” The stranger replied, the smirk fading into something softer, “Of course, only if you want to.”
“Yes,” Alec replied before the man had even properly finished his sentence, “I. Uh- yeah, coffee sounds great. With you.”
The stranger's smile returned, lighting up his handsome face, and something fluttered in Alec's chest as he stumbled out, "So, um, what's your name?"
"Magnus Bane,” the guy – Magnus – stated. "And you?"
"Alec Lightwood." he replied, feeling the warm flush spread down his neck. "You have a lovely umbrella."
Magnus laughed, the bright sound overpowering the rain’s monotonous tenor, “Why, thank you!”
Alec couldn’t help but feel enchanted at the way Magnus’ eyes crinkled up at the corners as he laughed, and he also couldn’t help the way his own lips quirked into a small smile.
Once Magnus had stopped laughing, they began to walk across the road after they’d peered underneath the umbrella to see if there were any cars coming.
"So, Alec, what sort of coffee do you like?” Magnus had given up with safety as he focused his gaze on Alec.
"I prefer tea, actually." Alec answered, stepping up onto the curb as they’d crossed the road.
“That makes two of us then,” Magnus replied, and the smile he gave Alec then was enough to warm him from the tips of his fingers down to his toes.
daydream; magnus/alec; ao3 link
t rating ; 2366 words.
malec drabbles based on day6′s song titles from their album ‘daydream’!
-
First time – (contains vague description of sex)
The first time they held hands, it felt like a hoard of butterflies had been released inside of Alec’s stomach.
He knew his palms were sweating, but the dazzling smile Magnus gave him once their palms touched and their fingers interlocked said more than enough. It’s okay, he heard, we’re going to be fine. For now, holding hands like this in the privacy of Magnus’ apartment was enough to satisfy them. Alec couldn’t help but let a grin take over his face while he tried to ignore how such a small gesture had the tips of his ears burning.
The first time they kissed, it felt like sparks were flying and their hearts were going to beat out of their chests. Alec had never experienced anything like this, he had so much to learn and so much to give, and a press of lips was just the beginning. Magnus wasn’t expecting it, but the way Alec had looked at him – his gaze so full of everything, he couldn’t help but lean forward to meet Alec half way. It was only short, but Alec felt like the weight of the world had lifted off his shoulders.
The first they had sex, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. They created their own small bubble just for themselves, a pocket in time and space that they would never forget. It started off slow, just a shy skittering of fingers on bare flesh and breathing in each other’s air – but then Magnus crooked his fingers just so and Alec was seeing stars. He could feel sweat glaze over their skin, and a deep flush settled over his face that reached down to the base of his neck. Magnus had never seen anything more beautiful than Alec hard and panting, and it was all because of him. He had this all to himself, and he couldn’t have felt more blessed even if he tried. They didn’t last for long, the pent up frustration and soft touches had finally built up until it tilted their little world on its axis.
Alec peppered kisses on Magnus’ skin afterwards, as if creating his own constellation of stars that would last forever.
Blood –
Alec had never imagined himself stumbling through Magnus’ front door, barely holding onto his consciousness as he gripped his side to keep it from bleeding. He had never imagined collapsing to his knees, watching as a puddle of dark red surround him. He had never imagined seeing Magnus’ face pale in terror as he rushed over to Alec, not caring that his expensive trousers were now soaked in blood. He had never imagined that Magnus would choke on his own tears as he worked to close the wound in his side.
Alec hadn’t imagined a lot of things, but it didn’t make this any less real.
When he awoke, his head felt like it was made out lead and his tongue was like sandpaper. He blinked slowly, and realised he was looking up at the dark ceilings of Magnus’ bedroom. It was a sight he’d seen so often, but this time it was different.
He tried to sit up, but as soon as he moved there was a shot of pain up his side; paralysing him. Alec let out a hiss, feeling completely useless as his vision became fuzzy.
At the sound of Alec waking up, Magnus shot out the chair he was sitting in and was instantly by Alec’s side, and already wisps of blue and silver were working on the wound in an attempt to mute the pain.
Magnus tried to ignore the way his hands shook, but he couldn’t ignore the way his breath caught when he saw more blood seeping through Alec’s bandages. Usually blood didn’t faze him, he’d been around long enough and seen enough people to have quota of bloodshed fulfilled, but there was something completely different seeing someone he loved bleeding profusely in front of him. He watched as Alec’s face which was scrunched up in pain finally started to smooth out, his eyelids fluttering shut in exhaustion.
Magnus let himself hope. He let himself believe that this time, maybe fate would be kind to him. Maybe this time, despite how much blood Alec had lost and how hopeless he was at healing magic, he could still wake up tomorrow and see Alec’s smile again.
Letting go –
It never got easier to watch Alec leave for missions, and Magnus was determined to make sure Alec knew that. He hooked his fingers into Alec’s belt loops and pulled him forward, their chests touching and their noses pressed together. It’d gotten easier over the months that they’d been dating to be able to do something like this without Alec flinching or pulling away – and it was incredibly worth it. Magnus was never a patient man at the best of times, but he’d realised that he had something precious that was worth being patient for. Alec was worth the push and pull, the misunderstandings and the times of frustration. When Alec felt comfortable enough, with himself and with Magnus, it had been worth the feeling of everything finally clicking into place. For the first time in a few hundred years, Magnus had felt complete.
Which made it even harder now to let Alec go, to watch him pick up his bow and arrows and sling them over his shoulder, and leave their shared apartment with a shy smile and a wave of his hand.
He was snapped out of his daze when he felt Alec rubbing their noses together, and Magnus couldn’t help the way his knees felt like jelly at the sweet gesture. Alec had placed his hands on Magnus’ waist, and the heat radiating through his clothes was keeping him grounded. Alec wasn’t leaving yet, and Magnus still had a whole day to spend with him.
He felt himself smile at the revelation; that Alec was here right now, so close that they were touching, and the tension that had filled his muscles finally began to seep out.
Magnus let out a sigh of relief before he tilted his head up, rising on his tip toes to press a soft kiss to the corner of Alec’s lips. He didn’t have to deal with anything else apart from the way it felt to have Alec in the safety of his arms.
Sing me –
Magnus was always humming something, no matter what he was doing. He rarely full out sang, having said one time during a drunken haze that he sounded like a cat when their tail was stepped on. Alec had laughed at the image he had in his head, but never brought it back up again.
Alec had noticed that he especially enjoyed humming when he was cooking. He could hear the soft and slightly out of tune melody over the clanging pots and pans and the simmering of the food. It was calming for Alec, and it was part of what felt like home. He’d never asked Magnus what the song was, and Magnus had never told him. Alec knew the melody off by heart, sometimes even getting it stuck in his head as he caught himself humming it too.
They were in bed, quietly telling stories about their pasts and dreams for their future. Magnus had his head on Alec’s chest, and an arm slung around his torso. Alec was propped up by the sheer amount of pillows Magnus had along with an arm tightly wrapped around Magnus’ shoulder. It never got tiring to feel the weight of Magnus on him, to feel the laughter vibrate through him and the warmth of his body. This was another part of what felt like home.
The conversation trailed off, and before long Alec could feel his eyelids droop as the activities of today caught up with him. He could feel himself beginning to drift off already, but nothing would stop him from staying awake a little longer to hear Magnus humming that song again.
One day – maybe not now, maybe not for another few months – he would ask Magnus what the song is. But for now, he was more than content to let the melody wash over him and remind him of the things he’s gained: a home, a place to belong, and someone who loves him.
Wish –
Alec never prayed. He believed in angels, he knew they existed, but to pray to a god that he’d never seen was a different story. Maybe it was strange then that he felt himself making wishes instead. They weren’t directed at a higher being, they weren’t for anyone else to overhear, and they were just little things he found himself yearning for.
His first wish was about wanting Jace to notice him. He wanted Jace to look at him the same way Alec did; to actually see him and to hold his hand. He wished that Jace could understand his feelings, and maybe even accept them too. Alec’s first wish was nothing more than a fantasy, something that his heart begged for. He knew it’d never come true – he’d seen the way Jace looked at women, how he spoke about their curves and their long hair and he knew that no matter how much he wished, it’d never become a reality.
His second wish was about wanting his parents to acknowledge him. He wanted them to praise him, tell him he was doing okay and that they were proud. He hoped that this one came true, that despite his other wish not happening, maybe he could have this one. But the way his parents looked at him, unveiled disappointment and downturned lips, never changed. The way they spoke to him, cold and unaffectionate, never changed either.
His third wish was about wanting Clary to disappear. He wanted everything to return to how it used to be – just him, Jace and Isabelle. They were undefeatable as a trio, they knew each other inside out and their bond was stronger than anything else in the world. Maybe it was childish and naïve of him to think this; but nothing before had ever questioned his unwavering certainty about their bond. Until Clary had showed up, nothing could stop them. But before he knew it, it was no longer just him, Jace and Isabelle. Instead it was him on his own, taking the fall every single time something went wrong. Instead it was him looking at them from the outside. Instead –
Someone else was looking at him.
And he was looking back.
His fourth wish was about wanting to tell Magnus how he felt. He wanted his parents to be proud, he wanted his parabatai and sister back, and he wanted to kiss Magnus without worrying what everyone would say. He wished every day, from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep, that one day he could hold Magnus’ hand without flinching or pulling away. His faith in his wishes was practically non-existent at this point, nothing he had wished for before had come true. Maybe his wishes were just not meant to happen.
His fifth and final wish happened when he was watching Magnus stand half way down the aisle, his face so open and vulnerable. Alec’s heart clenched, his lungs felt like they weren’t working and oh, oh, how he wished he could take Magnus by the lapels and pull them flush against each other.
Why don’t you? A voiced asked.
He didn’t have an answer.
It took an arranged marriage, a flurry of confusing feelings and a crashed wedding for Alec to finally realise – that it wasn’t about what he wished for, it was about what he could do. Wishing for something was to put his destiny into someone else’s hands, to sit and wait for something to happen to him. Wishes were nothing but empty promises, and sometimes it was better to take back control and push for what you wished for.
Walking away from Lydia, silencing his mother and kissing Magnus was everything he had wished for and more.
Hunt –
When they fought together it was like nothing else. They worked together in sync, their hearts beating as one and the atmosphere around them crackled. Magnus always covered for Alec, keeping a sharp eye out for anything that might catch them off guard. He kept his hands poised out in front of him, ready to attack.
Alec was used to weaving in and out of Magnus’ magic attacks with an effortless ease, and always managed to duck in time when Magnus sent out a shock wave over his head. Alec trusted Magnus like he trusted Jace – his parabatai – during a fight. He had free range to shoot his arrows or if need be, use his seraph blade.
They were like wild animals on a hunt, always working together and never faltering in their steps. It was exhilarating to know that someone else was on the same wave length as he was. Magnus thrived on the way his magic simmered under his skin, enough to burn him if he wasn’t careful. He used to worry that Alec would get hit by his magic, or be terrified to even be anywhere near a warlock during a fight. Instead, Alec always knew where he would aim next and be out the way to clear a path for Magnus.
Alec was sceptical at first to fight with Magnus, not because he was a warlock but because why would a Downworlder want to work with a Shadowhunter in the first place? It had been empty anxiety though, as the first time they were in battle it was like they’d been doing it all their lives.
It wasn’t until after they’d killed all the demons that they realised they were both grinning; their cheeks flushed with excitement and relief that it was all over.
They had fought together, and walked away proudly towards Institute to report back. It didn’t take long until Alec grabbed Magnus’ hand to entwine their fingers together. It was a firm reassurance that they were both okay, they were still alive and they still had each other.
They started off as a rare occurrence, a once every few months thing. They weren’t too bad; vague images flittering and flashing behind his closed eyes that resulted in him being wide awake and breathing too fast.
At first, he wasn’t particularly bothered by them. As soon as he woke up the images had already faded and he was struggling to remember what part of his dream had even woke him up. There was no reason to make a fuss about them, and he usually fell back asleep as soon as they’d happened.
Luffy didn’t notice at first, as he usually slept like a log most of the time. Law was too far from him; always spread out on the grass at more than an arm’s length away. Too far to touch but close enough to feel safe.
Neither of them remember when things changed.
The images weren’t just a passing thing any more. They played out vivid and real. He could smell the blood, feel it drying on his hands and splatter across his cheek. He could feel his heart pounding, head swimming and a shiver creeping up his back. He could hear the screams, the gunshots and the flames licking at his skin.
Over time, the soothing rocking of the Sunny became a form of sea sickness during his nightmares. He felt his body become unstable, stumbling around on an unsteady path. His stomach churned as he walked down the cobbled streets, only looking down at his feet but always still seeing the tragedy of his home town surrounding him.
He could see his reflection in a nearby puddle, his eyes dead and his hands dirty.
For this nightmares, he woke with a shout stuck in the back of his throat and his hand reaching out for something, someone, that wasn’t there. He was in a sitting position before he knew it, his heart thudding and a thin sheen of sweat on his skin.
It was almost suffocating, the lingering smell of smoke still burned his throat as he tried to breathe in the salty ocean air. His eyes were unfocused, his brain confused as he let his hand drop back down to his side, until –
“Torao?” Luffy’s voice called out, quiet and comforting within the crisp outside air.
His eyes flickered over to where Luffy was slowly sitting up, rubbing his eyes with a closed fist.
“Torao, what’s wrong?” Luffy asked, his voice thick with sleep and his eyelids already drooping.
Breathe, Law told himself.
Luffy opened his eyes wider, knitting his eyebrows as he looked at Law. Then something changed on his face, his tired questioning gaze soon became one of a softer, more understanding nature.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Luffy tilted his head to the side.
Law swallowed, his throat was dry as if he hadn’t drank anything for days. He could feel the sweat on his skin cool as he began to regain the normal pace of his breathing. He tried not to think about the bold images in his head that made his stomach twist.
“Yeah,” he replied slowly, averting his eyes to look at the grass beneath him. He didn’t want Luffy to see him, to see the blood on his hands and the pain he’d felt. He felt dirty, and Luffy was –
Well, Luffy was Luffy.
The light at the end of the tunnel. The one who always reached his hand out first. The warm sun in a cloudless sky.
And –
Who was Law to tarnish that?
“Come here,” Luffy said, his expression determined.
“What?” Law blinked owlishly in confusion.
“Just – just come here,” Luffy continued, waving his hand in a motion to signal Law to come closer.
After a moment of hesitation, Law shuffled over to where Luffy was repositioning himself to sit with his legs stretched out in front of him. Once Law was sat next to him, Luffy slowly raised one of his hands to place behind Law’s head, pushing lightly until his head rested on Luffy’s thigh.
Luffy was warm, Law noticed, before the feeling of fingers running through his hair made him flinch.
“Sorry,” Luffy whispered, and Law had never heard him be so quiet, “Ace used to do this for me when I had nightmares. It helped me calm down.”
Law ignored the way Luffy’s voice caught slightly at the mention of his brother and continued to try and settle down. It was quiet, the only noise was the waves lapping at the side of the ship and the far away snores from the rest of the crew.
Usually Law would’ve put up more of a fight: roll his eyes, scoff and tell Luffy to mind his own business. But tonight was different. Sometimes it was okay to be comforted.
The fingers through his hair were delicate, carefully threading through and untangling any knots that’d formed during the day. It was nice to have this kind of atmosphere surround him. After all the drama, fast paced action and constant worrying that happened at Dressrosa not so long ago, the tranquil silence was almost a blessing.
Being so close to Luffy, the person who had taken him seriously and valued him as a friend, had Law’s heart beating a little too quickly for his liking. He knew what this was – the sweaty palms, his stomach doing summersaults and his ears burning red – but there was no reason to put a label on it. He didn’t need to be boxed in by his feelings again.
After a while, Law sat up, dislodging Luffy’s fingers in his hair. He felt the questioning glare directed at him, but he daren’t look up just yet. Instead, he reached his own hand out to grasp the one still hovering in the air. The feeling of entwining his fingers with rubber ones was a strange thing, but not bad.
Not bad at all.
Luffy squeezed Law’s hand, and it was like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. He looked up, eyes finding Luffy’s along with a reassuring smile.
“It’s gonna be okay, y’know,” Luffy declared, the smile transforming into a large grin, “Me and you against the world, right?”
Law couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, and tightened his grip around Luffy’s hand. Whatever this is between them, whatever it may turn out to be or whether it may fade away, is something special. It was something worth living for. Something worth sleeping through the nightmares to wake up another day. Something that, even if it fell apart in front of him, would be worth treasuring in his memories.
Weariness began to tug at Law’s eyelids, prompting him to slide them shut. He’d fallen asleep sitting up before, and it was worth doing it again if he could just hold onto Luffy for a few moments longer.
The feeling of lips brushing against his cheek was a soothing one, and a shocking revelation to have once he was well rested.
Maybe, just maybe, this was something precious that he could actually keep.
Taehyung slips on his favourite hoodie, taking comfort in the familiar smell and the fading graphic on the front. It’s an old one, he’s had it for three years now. Taehyung knows he should probably throw it away, with all the rips and stretched material, but he’s too attached.
He pulls the hood up over his head and sighs, stretching his arms before yawning. Taehyung hears a faint mutter of a voice from the kitchen and he smiles, his eyes still half closed and his brain a little hazy at the edges from just waking up.
He heads into the kitchen, feet shuffling against the floor. He frowns slightly when he feels the cold wooden floorboards touch his exposed feet. The faint muttering now turns into loud laughing as Taehyung arrives in their kitchen area, the noise echoing around the walls.
"-Oh, yeah, I better go now. Sleepy head's awake," there's a pause, "I'll call you later, Jimin. Bye."
There was a quiet chuckle and a 'come here, you.' which makes Taehyung grin a little wider and shuffle into a tight embrace.
"You smell nice," Taehyung mumbles, nesting his head into the crook of Hoseok's neck.
Hoseok laughs, the feel of it rumbling in his chest making Taehyung press closer to him, tightening his arms around the other’s waist.
"You're in a good mood today." Hoseok says, nudging Taehyung's head with his nose.
"Mmm," he inhales deeply, breathing in Hoseok's scent a little bit more. He can feel himself dozing off, Hoseok’s warmth radiating through his clothes and his still half closed eyes flutter shut.
Hoseok raises one of his hands to brush through Taehyung's tousled hair, pushing the hood off his head as he does it. Taehyung shivers - the cold air hitting the back of his neck.
"Why don't we go take a shower?" Hoseok suggests, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers.
"We?" Taehyung replies, smirking against Hoseok's neck.
"Yeah. We. You and me."
Taehyung snorts, "At the same time?"
"No, I'll sit on the toilet seat and watch you shower." Hoseok laughs, rolling his eyes.
Taehyung resists the urge to laugh too as he pulls back, and he really does mean to kiss Hoseok's lips but he misses by a few centimetres - his own lips landing on Hoseok’s cheek.
"Bad aiming," Hoseok dips his head down slightly to briefly press his lips against Taehyung's.
The smell of fried rice wafting through the open bedroom door tempts Hoseok out of his sleep. His eyes open slowly, sight blurred and eyelids heavy. The other side of the double bed is empty; the quilt halfway down the bed and the pillow still slightly dented.
Hoseok sits up slowly, wincing as he feels how achy his joints are. He leans against the headboard, glancing at the cup of coffee sat there waiting for him on his bedside table. He smiles softly, knowing that Taehyung probably got up a little earlier to brew the coffee for him. A hesitant sip confirms that’s it made just the way he likes it; slightly milky with enough sugar to keep him going throughout the morning.
After finishing his coffee, and a glance at the clock, he decides to go find Taehyung. Checking the kitchen first, he finds a bowl of steaming rice sat on the table waiting for him, along with chopsticks lying next to it. He grins, he knows he’ll have time to eat it later after finding Taehyung.
He finds him standing in front of the bathroom mirror, smoothing shaving cream over his chin and up his jaw line; razor lying in the empty sink until he’s ready to use it. He’s wearing a pair of black boxers - Hoseok’s boxers that he always steals - because they cling to the top of his toned thighs and hug his ass in all the right places. Hoseok’s almost jealous, shamelessly staring at Taehyung’s ass while Taehyung knowingly watches him through the bathroom mirror.
“Good morning,” Taehyung greets, a smirk threatening to take over his face as he sees Hoseok jump a little.
“Mornin’,” Hoseok replies, voice slightly dry and croaky from not having spoken after a long sleep.
Taehyung picks up the razor, gliding it effortlessly against the skin and tilting his head back even more. He hasn’t put on his shirt yet, his work clothes are still folded neatly on top of the toilet seat lid. Hoseok sees his favourite colour tie amongst the pile of clothes - a deep maroon - and he remembers how good it looks against Taehyung’s skin. The deep brown contrasting with the pale expanse of skin. He feels something begin to bubble at the pit of his stomach, and suddenly standing there in only a pair of loose white boxers seems a little too much .
He hears the sound of the tap being turned on and water gushing into the sink so Taehyung can wash off the shaving cream on his razor.
His eyes scan Taehyung’s back, focusing a little longer on the burning red scratch marks which make their way over his shoulder blades. His lips twitch, mind rewinding back to the events of last night. Taehyung had been needy and whiny, begging for more and harder as Hoseok dug his fingernails into his skin, dragging them down unbearably slow until Taehyung finally came. He feels a little bit bad, but he knows that Taehyung often welcomes this kind of stuff, yet seeing the harsh red marks that litter his body makes Hoseok's throat tighten a little.
Taehyung clears his throat, finished shaving his face, and meets Hoseok’s gaze through the mirror again.
“They don't hurt.” Taehyung says softly, grabbing a towel and patting his face dry.
In a few steps, Hoseok's pressing his chest to Taehyung's back, hands automatically placing themselves low on Taehyung's hips, just above the waistband of the boxers. He nuzzles into the crook of Taehyung's neck, pressing a few kisses onto the soft skin.
“You're extremely distracting this morning.” Taehyung laughs, trying to shrug Hoseok off him so he can get dressed for work.
Taehyung is usually sluggish in the mornings, having more than once dropped something on his foot or cut himself with his razor, but this morning his eyes are bright and his mouth wide in a smile. Hoseok feels his heart flutter slightly as he watches this through the mirror. Taehyung lifts up his hand and presses two fingers in between Hoseok's eyebrows, and playfully pushes him away.
“I really need to get ready for work, I can't be late again.” Taehyung's voice has a slight warning tone to it, knowing all too well that Hoseok would be the reason for him being late.
He's only been late once before, having overslept after falling asleep over a pile of unmarked essays about Sparta. Taehyung really loves teaching, he's passionate about the subject he teaches and his students and colleagues all love him. Although Hoseok teases him about the subject – Ancient History not personally being one of his strongest subjects in school – he knows how good Taehyung is at controlling a class and getting them all to listen throughout the whole lesson. Which, as he remembers, was an impossible task for a History teacher to do.
Then again, Hoseok also thinks that the reason the majority of Taehyung's classes are girls by the way he looks so damn good in circle rimmed glasses and a tight fitting suit. He understands them though, the first time he'd seen Taehyung in the suit and glasses combo he had to hold himself back from pushing him against a wall and kissing him senseless.
Despite the shallow reasoning for being in his class, it's also down to that he is genuinely a brilliant teacher. It makes his heart swell when he sees Taehyung marking his student's work late at night, a bright smile on his face when he tells Hoseok that they're all improving so much and how proud he is.
Hoseok grins before lazily grazing his teeth against Taehyung's neck, wrapping his arms firmly around Taehyung's abdomen and pulling him directly flush against him.
A quiet gasp leaves Taehyung's lips as he feels Hoseok half hard in his boxers, and a warm flush lights up his face.
“Hoseok, I don't have time today-,” he begins to wriggle his way out of Hoseok's grip, but Hoseok splays one of his hands out across Taehyung's toned stomach, his ring finger and pinky just slipping under the waistband of his underwear.
Hoseok moves his head slightly so he can whisper directly into Taehyung's ear, lips grazing against his ear lobe, “It won't take long.”
Taehyung frowns, “You say that every time and-,”
He's cut off by Hoseok's palming the front of his boxers, almost too roughly, but Taehyung's not the one to complain about anything like that.
Taehyung sighs in defeat, head tilting back slightly as Hoseok continues to move his palm against the growing bulge, the cotton of the boxers grazing teasingly against the sensitive skin.
“I refuse to be late, Hoseok.” Taehyung's voice breaks half way through the sentence, and almost whines as Hoseok takes his hand away from the front of his boxers. Instead, he slips his hands through the waistband and grips Taehyung's cock tightly.
“You won't be late, I promise.” Hoseok whispers, hand moving up and down at a steady pace.
Hoseok can hear Taehyung's laboured breathing, his breaths becoming quicker and shorter as Hoseok slid his thumb over his slit, and felt a shiver run through Taehyung's body.
This continues for another few moments, and Taehyung pushes his ass back to press harshly against Hoseok's crotch.
“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes out, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
He grips Taehyung's cock tighter, just to hear the hitch in Taehyung's breath.
“T-tell me,” Taehyung challenges, biting his lip. Hoseok groans, his grip faltering slightly. One of Taehyung's favourite things was to listen to Hoseok talking to him, describing all the things he wanted to do to him. Telling him how pretty he was and how great he looked like this; face flushed, eyes begging and his voice hoarse from screaming.
Hoseok's eyes flicker up slightly to the mirror, staring in shock at the image that reflects back at him. He glances at Taehyung before he gets an idea.
“Tae, open your eyes.” Hoseok demands, voice firm as his hand stills at the base of Taehyung's cock.
Reluctantly, Taehyung opens his eyes and meets Hoseok's in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Hoseok tilts his head to the left slightly and gives Taehyung a reassuring smile.
“Keep them open,” he warns, completely letting go of Taehyung's cock and grips onto the waistband of the underwear, bending his knees as he pulls them downwards until his knees hit the cold floor.
Hoseok can see goose bumps ripple over the pale skin across his legs and hears Taehyung letting out a breathy groan. He shuffles back a little, eyes level with Taehyung's bare ass. Taehyung's boxers are still round his ankles, but he raises one of his hands; relishing in the sound it makes as it hits the bare skin. There's already a red mark blooming when he spanks Taehyung again, listening to Taehyung yell out.
The first time Hoseok did this a few months ago was on a whim, and he was surprised to learn how much Taehyung loved it. Taehyung cried out in pleasure, back arching and his mouth was running 100 miles per hour in begging for more. Least to say, he's pretty sure the neighbours heard them that night.
Hoseok leans his head forward, licking a stripe over the red patch on his ass before hitting the skin again. Taehyung's legs went weak, almost giving out on him as he had to lean forward to grip the edge of the sink to keep himself up right. His chest was heaving with trying to breathe in an adequate amount of oxygen, loud breaths echoing around the bathroom.
Hoseok reached his other hand around Taehyung's waist, gripping the hot flesh of Taehyung's cock.
Taehyung let out a loud moan in appreciation as Hoseok began moving his hand again.
“Are you watching yourself?” Hoseok questioned. From this angle he couldn't quite see in the mirror, but he was pretty sure that Taehyung was watching himself being jerked off in the reflection.
Taehyung nodded his head almost robotically, hips jerking forward suddenly as Hoseok swiped his thumb over the head of his cock. Hoseok had to hold back a smirk as he felt the pre-cum smear across his finger pad.
“Good,” Hoseok says, digging his fingers into Taehyung's ass, “Do you like this, Tae? Watching yourself in the mirror as I jerk you off and spank you?”
Hoseok's voice doesn't waver this time as he hears Taehyung moan at his words.
“I wish I had time to fuck you properly,” he confesses as he loosens his grip around Taehyung's cock enough to make him whine, “I wish I could do what I did to you last night. Bend you over my desk and listen to you beg for it.”
Taehyung is practically shaking just listening to Hoseok's words, and takes matters into his own hands as he begins to thrust his hips forward through Hoseok's loose fingers.
Hoseok tuts, hand coming down to smack Taehyung's ass again.
“Are you just gonna come from me talking to you?”
Taehyung whimpers and nods furiously, “ God , Hoseok,” he managed to choke out after a second.
Hoseok hums in appreciation, he knows Taehyung is dangerously close and prides himself on being able to rile Taehyung up just from a few dirty words and a little friction.
“Do you know what I wanna do to you tonight?” it's a rhetorical question, so he continues without letting Taehyung reply, “I want you to ride me until you can't see straight and-,”
Taehyung cuts him off, voice loud, “Yes, yes, oh God yes,” his voice breaks on the second word, and Hoseok recognises the breathy noises he's making that means he's close.
He tightens his fingers around Taehyung's cock again, “I'm gonna make you scream so loud that everyone will hear. Do you want that, Tae? Do you want everyone to hear how much you love my cock?”
“Come on, Tae.” he encourages, his fist moving quicker up and down Taehyung's shaft, “Are you still watching yourself?” Taehyung's ass is almostglowing red with being hit, so Hoseok lets his hand rest on Taehyung's hips, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin.
He glances up into the mirror, and he can now just about see Taehyung's flushed face and his mouth wide open reflecting back. He's pretty sure that Taehyung's dirty blonde hair is plastered against his forehead too.
“Hoseok, I-,” Taehyung lets go of the sink with one of his hands and wraps it around Hoseok's hand which is already on his cock, both of them jerking him off. He tightens his grip, and it doesn't take more than a few strokes before Taehyung is arching his back and coming all over himself with a deep moan.
Taehyung lets go of Hoseok's hand after a few moments, before stumbling over to the toilet to sit down on the lid. He lets his head fall back, his chest still heaving and his face flushed. The stripes of cum up his torso is what encourages Hoseok to shuffle over to him, still on his knees, and slot himself between Taehyung's thighs.
Taehyung sits up a litter straighter when he feels Hoseok's skin brush against the inside of his thighs, opening his eyes slightly to peer down at him.
Hoseok's knees ache from being on the hard floor for so long, but it doesn't matter when Taehyung cups his face and leans forward to place a delicate kiss on his lips.
He's painfully hard in his boxers, but the blissed out expression on Taehyung's face means he won't be getting any quick favours just yet.
Hoseok places his palms over Taehyung's knees, using them as leverage to stand up. He stumbles slightly, his knees burning with pain of being in the same position for so long, but he lets out an almost embarrassed chuckle.
“Jung Hoseok,” Taehyung says, standing up slowly from the toilet lid to match Hoseok's height, “You are,” he wraps his arms around Hoseok's neck, pulling him forward so their noses bump together, “Insufferable.”
Hoseok ignores the slightly gross feeling of Taehyung's drying cum transfer onto his own stomach, and instead doesn't hold back a laugh before pressing another kiss to Taehyung's lips. He nips at Taehyung's bottom lip before placing his hands on Taehyung's waist, pushing him back a little.
A hot flush washes over his face, the pressure of Taehyung against his crotch was a little too much for the time being.
Taehyung furrows his brows and looks down between them, his lips forming an 'o' shape in realisation.
“Do you...?” he begins, eyes locking with Hoseok's.
Hoseok shakes his head, smiling sheepishly as Taehyung drops his arms from around his neck.
“You need to get ready for work, I can take care of myself.” Hoseok states, winking before reaching round to pat one of Taehyung's ass cheeks.
Taehyung opens his mouth to retort, but Hoseok is already laughing again and handing Taehyung the pile of clothes he was supposed to put on 15 minutes ago.
“You might wanna hurry up, or you're going to be late.”
Taehyung narrows his eyes at Hoseok before chasing him out the bathroom, slamming and locking the door firmly behind him.
“I’m home,” Gintoki called out while slipping off his shoes before shuffling into his house slippers. He paused, waiting for a reply, but none came. He shrugged it off, continuing into the apartment as he swiftly loosened his tie with one tug. He left his briefcase carelessly by the door, adding another scuff to the black leather.
As he walked further into the apartment, it remained silent. Usually now Hijikata would be preparing dinner, but as Gintoki peered into the kitchen, there was no one in there. A slight paranoia niggled its way into the back of his mind, but he decided to ignore it for the time being as he continued to search the house.
He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on a few knots as he walked into the living room. As soon as he entered, he stopped dead in his tracks. Any words or train of thought had disintegrated when he took in the sight before him.
“Uh,” Hijikata began, looking between the baby in his lap and Gintoki standing at the door, “Welcome back.”
Blinking owlishly, Gintoki began to approach the sofa and slowly sat down next to Hijikata.
There was a slight awkward pause as Gintoki slowly began to process what was going on. He continued to watch the dark haired baby gurgle and laugh as he began pulling at Hijikata’s fringe, making the man frown. Gintoki could tell that the facial expression wasn’t out of discomfort or irritation.
“Are you going to explain why you have a baby or am I going to have to guess?” Gintoki asked, raising an eyebrow at his partner.
Hijikata’s lips turned downwards before he explained, “He’s my nephew. Tamegoro needed someone to baby sit, and since I was the only one available, this happened.” Hijikata replied, raising his hand to pull the baby’s hand away from his hair. His frown was still in place, but there was something almost longing in his gaze.
Gintoki hummed in acknowledgement, a soft smile made its way onto his face as he took in the scene before him. The baby was perched quite happily on one of Hijikata’s knees, a cute smile spread across his face that made his chubby cheeks stand out. He had one of Hijikata’s fingers in a tight grip in an attempt to chew on it, which made Hijikata chuckle quietly.
It was a surreal sight - the baby had the same colour hair and blue eyes as Hijikata, and Gintoki felt his heart swell. He’d thought about this quite often: him and Hijikata and their own baby. A family.
Without a second thought, Gintoki leaned forward and brushed his fingers carefully through soft tufts of hair, cradling the back of the baby’s head.
“Hi there,” he breathed out quietly, keeping his voice light as he watched the baby turn his attention fully to Gintoki. There was a line of drool making its way down the side of the baby’s mouth, but his eyes were wide and his smile was still there and Gintoki just knew he’d be a sucker for this kid.
“I’m your awesome uncle Gin, that grumpy guy there is the boring uncle.” Gintoki proclaimed, trying to hold back his laughter as he could almost feel Hijikata bristling at his words.
“Liar,” Hijikata murmured, bouncing the child gently on his knee. There was a squeal of delight, along with tinkling laughter. Gintoki chuckled, moving his hand so the baby could grasp at one of his fingers.
--
“So,” Gintoki began once he and Hijikata were settled together in bed, the baby already fast asleep in the cot across the room, “Babies, huh.”
Hijikata grunted, shuffling closer to Gintoki so he could put his head on Gintoki’s chest. Gintoki was already winding an arm around Hijikata’s shoulders, an action that was done so often that it didn’t even need any thought anymore between them.
“Babies.” Hijikata repeated, tracing random shapes onto Gintoki’s bare chest with his index finger, “What do you think about it?”
Gintoki hummed, tightening his grip around Hijikata’s shoulders, “A family of our own? Sounds nice, I guess.”
“No, I know you are.” Gintoki sighed, mulling it over. The rest of the evening had been eventful. Between trying to keep the baby entertained, to feeding and changing him, it had both hit them with the thought of how exhausting parenting could be. Neither of them were used to children – let alone babies – but there was a warm feeling that was still thrumming under Gintoki's skin. He’d watched Hijikata play Peek-a-Boo earlier; it was cute and endearing, and the thought of raising their own child wasn’t exactly… a bad thought. It made him feel warm all over, excitement simmering at the bottom of his stomach.
“I think we need to do some research.” Is all Gintoki said, waiting for Hijikata’s response.
Hijikata tilted his head back so he could look at his partner, his eyes searching for any uncertainty, “You’re serious too.”
Gintoki grinned, “We could both be dads.”
Hijikata might deny it later, but the thought of being a dad made his stomach flop excitedly and a smile to unknowingly make its way onto his face. They both knew that when Tamegoro came back to pick up his son tomorrow, both Gintoki and Hijikata will be a little reluctant to hand back their nephew.
“Sounds like a hassle.” He whispered instead, trying to cover up how shaky his voice was.
“You’d be more like the angry granddad that complains about everything.” Gintoki joked, but they both knew that this was something they wanted to do.
“Bullshit. What happened to you being the crazy uncle, huh?”
Gintoki bit his lip, locking eyes with Hijikata as his eyebrows knitted, “You’d be a great dad, I’m sure.” He stated seriously.
Hijikata blinked up at him, feeling a hot blush spread across his cheeks. He scoffed, tilting his head back down to avoid Gintoki’s gaze.
“You would be too.” He murmured.
Hijikata felt a soft kiss pressed against the top of his head as Gintoki squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
“We’ll figure it out soon enough.” Gintoki whispered, mind swirling with all the possibilities that lay ahead of them.
