「And when your eyes met, you saw nothing but love.」
When Your Eyes Meet Mine
Pairing: Ushijima x Reader
Word count: 1319
Genre: Sweet, sweet fluff
Summary: All Wakatoshi wants is for you to have a wonderful birthday, even if that means having to step outside his comfort zone just a little bit
A/N: I woke up this morning and realized that I’ve never written for him before, so I just had to get something down and out came a very soft fluffly ushiwaka who deserves nothing but love ;-; I really enjoyed writing something a little longer than I have been with my drabbles!! If you guys want more of these types of fics, or something longer, let me know! (also I’m trying to make my blog look a little more aesthetic, I hope it looks okay lol)
You noticed it before you even opened the door. As you slid your key into the front door, a hint of a savory scent wafted through the cracks and to your nose. Eyes fluttering shut, you paused for a moment as your brain tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. You swung the door open and called out to your empty house with a dull enthusiasm.
“I’m home.”
You mindlessly hung your coat up in the closet in the foyer, mind drifting as you wondered when your husband would be coming home. He was usually home an hour after you on the dot, not usually one to run late. But you noticed that his work shoes were already here, placed delicately along the wall, so perhaps he’d gotten home early but gone for a run. That was when you heard a subtle clank coming from the kitchen, and that aroma you’d notice outside became stronger as you walked further into your home, along with a delicate melody that you didn’t seem to recognize floating through the air.
“Toshi?” you questioned, making your way through the hall to the kitchen before stopping in your tracks. Wakatoshi stood tall next to the stove, hips swaying all too subtly to the sound of the radio he set up on the corner of the counter. He donned the apron that you usually wore when baking, the tie just barely making it around his hips.
“What is all this?” you asked, almost at a whisper, with a grin crawling onto your face.
Wakatoshi turned around, your voice finally pulling him out of his concentration. When he turned around, you tried and failed to stifle your laughter upon the sight of his torso absolutely covered in flour - rendering the much too small apron essentially useless - and his hands slick with cooking oil and some kind of sauce.
“It’s your birthday,” he stated matter-of-factly, as he grabbed a hand towel to wipe off his hands. Before anything else, he placed the towel back on the counter, took a few steps toward you, and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, gently resting his hands on either cheek. He greets you this way every time he comes home from work, but somehow it feels different, more special, when you’re the one coming home. Before letting go, you noticed him gently close his eyes and take a soft breath before opening them and resting his forehead against yours. His eyes locked with yours and you felt your cheeks begin to burn just a bit as he softly whispered.
“Happy birthday, my love.”
Before you could speak he kissed you once more, this time on your cheek, just below the corner of your eye, and he pulled away and went back to what he was working on. Your body felt cold as he stepped away but a tinge of heat remained on your cheeks. You knew that your husband loved you but he didn’t often show it in the most forthright manner. He showed it through the way that he would tuck the colorful comforter on your shared bed over your shoulders when he woke up early for a morning run. Through the way that he would help you zip up your dress before you went out to dinner without you needing to ask him. Through the way that he cuts your bagel in half for you when he’s making his own breakfast. It’s all the little things that truly do add up, and never once have you felt that he didn’t love you as much as you love him.
But sometimes, like tonight, you would be caught off guard by his more direct affection. You knew that it was hard for him, but you truly did appreciate his effort, especially when it wasn’t something that you requested of him. However, you’d gotten so swept up in the moment that you forgot to address the elephant in the room.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” You slowly made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his shoulder blade, seeking out the warmth that he deprived you of.
“I stayed home today. If my boss asks, I have the flu,” he responded, and the small smirk that grew on his face was audible in his tone. You laughed against the back of his shirt and tightened your embrace before planting a kiss at the base of his neck. Wakatoshi stood noticeably taller as you smiled against his skin and thanked him. You finally took a moment to peer around your tall partner’s torso to glance at what he had been cooking. There were miscellaneous chopped vegetables and herbs strewn about a few different cutting boards, three bowls with different colored sauces in them, and a pan on the stove with salmon fillets sizzling as they slowly cooked. You glanced past the stove and noticed that the warm red glow of the oven light was on, which piqued your interest. He must have noticed where your gaze landed because he tossed you a quick “it’s a secret” before turning to you.
“Why don’t you take a seat while I finish up,” he continued, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you over to the kitchen table which was adorned with what you deemed to be your “nice tablecloth” and the silverware that you only broke out when your parents came to visit. He pulled his hand away only to pull out a chair for you until you took a seat. Gently, he tucked your hair behind your ear before returning to the counter to finish up and plate your dinner. You waited patiently for a few minutes, out of the corner of your eye swearing you caught a slightly slouched Wakatoshi with his hands on the edge of the counter, taking slow breaths with a rosy blush crawling up the tips of his ears.
Just before your stomach began to growl, your partner walked over and placed a plate in front of you, the sight enough to make you drool. He placed his own plate down as well and took a seat, but instead of taking his usual seat across from you, he sat in the normally empty seat to your left. As you both began to eat, without looking over at you he grabbed your hand under the table and wove his fingers between yours, gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. You smiled and squeezed his hand gently, appreciative of the affection but you questioned him nonetheless.
“What’s gotten into you today? I know it’s my birthday but you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with just to make me happy,” you told him softly, turning to him with a gentle smile.
He let out a low sigh, as if he’d been trying to be sneaky with the way he had been acting. “I may not be comfortable with it yet, but you make me want to be comfortable with it. I see the way you look when we watch those cheesy rom coms and I want to be able to make you as happy as those movies do,” he responded quickly, not able to look you in the eye. However, your heart swelled at his confession and you pulled his hand up to you, kissing the back of his hand. Suddenly, you heard a loud ding from behind you.
“What was that?” you asked, your eyes lighting up when you remembered the oven light from earlier.
“Cake,” he responded with a small grin. He rose quickly from the table to pull the dessert from the oven and when he returned, you found yourself not looking at the cake, but looking up at Wakatoshi’s smiling face. And when your eyes met, you saw nothing but love.
With each kiss - to your lips, to your jaw, to you neck - the memory of your fight with Keishin washed away. His hands pawed at the plush skin of your waist as he pulled your hips closer against his with need. Every move he made in an attempt to be closer to you was his wordless way of telling you that he never wanted to be apart from you again.
It wasn't even a big fight, maybe more of a spat if anything, but as you felt him slide his fingers inside you for the first time that night, you knew you didn't care. If he felt so compelled to give you an apology, especially of this kind, you certainly weren't going to stop him. He started with two fingers, gently thrusting inside you and curving the tips of them just a smidge so they'd press down on the most sensitive parts of you as he slide them out. His other hand gripped your waist gently, caressing your skin in a way that made you feel more loved than any words could. With each thrust, the palm of his hand brushed against your clit, slowly pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You began to shake slightly, the end in sight, leaning your head back in anticipation. However, his movements came to a stop. As he slowly - painfully slowly - pulled his fingers out, he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.
It was the stolen glances as you passed each other in the hall, after classes had ended and the students were beginning to clear out.
It was the popsicles he gave you on the house when you stopped by the convenience store to get a chilled bottle of water on a hot summer day, when the stress of work was gone but he knew the stress of money was strong.
It was even the way that his hand lingered in yours, introducing himself to you all those years ago with a soft gaze and gentle smile tugging on the corner of his lips.
There wasn't a day that passed without those little things - the warm gestures that made you feel like you were wrapped up by a winter blanket - adding up. But one fall morning, the air becoming crisp and leaves beginning to turn, all those little things you came to love became too much, emotion bursting like a broken dam. He handed you a hot tea, on the house as always, and his fingers brushed over yours. His cheeks dusted pink like they always did and you attributed it to the weather like you always did. He lingered just a moment longer, and your grip on the cup tightened.
The lid threatened to pop off, threatened to spill the hot liquid. You thought for a brief moment what would happen if you simply squeezed a bit tighter. The drink would spill, you would offer to help clean. You would be late to work, but you would get to see his face and hear his voice for just a few extra minutes. You sighed as you decided against it, sucking it up to head to work. He gave you a look of concern as you sighed but you shrugged it off and waved him goodbye. As you head out the door, bells jingling to emphasize your exit, you went to take a sip of your drink. The warmth of the tea cut through the chill of the morning, but all you could think was how nothing made you feel warmer than his fingertips brushing against your own.
Little drabble based on @mintmatcha 's Soggy fics, I think about them occasionally, usually alone while cycling through miscellaneous shower thoughts, and this time I couldn't get it out of my head so I had to do something about it lol (tw angst and character death)
...
Life is hardly ever fair - you accepted that long ago, years before you had ever met Makki. But once you did meet him, your confidence in that fact faltered, flickered like a candle in a gentle breeze. You even allowed yourself for fleeting moments in the dead of night to believe that maybe the universe was saying "it's your turn to be happy." That was all, of course, destroyed by that same universe as easily as a fruit fly being squished the moment you heard his diagnosis. That was the true moment in which you admitted fully, to your core, that life is hardly ever fair. So why then, as you sat at his bedside, holding his hand long past his last breath, were you cursing the universe? Why then, as you watched grim men take his lifeless body out of the room, all but unrecognizable from illness, did you scream and cry at them to bring him back? Why, if you already accepted how unfair it would be? You had already grieved him long before he left, yet that last glimmer of hope he held onto (perhaps on your behalf) being torn away from the world was so much worse than you could have ever imagined.
Your head rested gently on his thigh, your cheek rubbing against the coarse fabric of his jeans. The clock on the wall ticked loudly through the silence and you heard the man above you sigh.
“Kei?”
He grunted in reply and brushed the hair away from your eyes, tucking the strands gingerly behind your ear. You tip your head back to see him and the concentration in his eyes makes you smile.
“Whatcha thinking about?” You lift your hand to reach for his. Threading your fingers through his, you pull his hand to your cheek and lean into his warmth.
“Nothing,” he lied, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He gives your hand a soft squeeze.
“Okay fine, I’ll go first. I’m thinking about how nice it is that we both finally have a day off,” you chuckle. Whether it was at the thought of how you two were spending your time off or to cope with the thought of you rarely getting to see each other, you’re not sure. Either way, you mimic the squeeze he gave you moments prior and then bring his hand to your lips to press a kiss against his knuckles. The soft hum that leaves his lips makes you repeat the action until he finally speaks.
“I’m thinking about how lucky I am to be able to spend my free time like this,” he finally admits. You furrow your eyebrows at him in confusion.
