Whimsywhisperz - Whimsy's World

₊˚⊹｡ 20/20 | oikawa tooru

wc: 931 summary: oikawa finally gets around to doing lasik.  warnings: mentions of lasik eye procedure, lots of cheesiness, too sweet!! there are ants!!, vague mentions of ldr in case that’s triggering for anyone! could be read as gn! a/n: super belated birthday post for our july 20 birthday boy! i hc that oikawa’s eyesight is bad and gets worse as he gets older -> why he needs to get lasik done!! i love him!! he’s a big baby!! also inspired by one of the prompts from @/nightprompts's list of prompts here.

Oikawa finally gets his Lasik procedure done during one of his off seasons. 

Thank god, because you honestly think it’s been a long time coming. His eyesight from high school has only gotten progressively worse since going pro—contacts drying his eyes out the longer and more intensely he plays. 

There’s a sigh, then, “Wooow,” Oikawa squints, scrunching his nose to form (those cute) little creases near the corners of his eyes. You look at him, concerned, worried that the light is too much for him post-op. “I really can’t see, baby.” 

You’re about to reach for the cap tucked in your bag before he stops you by the wrist, continuing, “You’re blinding me with your pretty.” There’s that (damned) smirk on his face when he says it too—like he’s been preparing for this moment since he finally agreed to getting Lasik. 

Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if this was the exact reason he finally did decide on pushing through with the procedure.

You remove his fingers from your wrist and hold his hand gently, rolling your eyes as you lead him down the steps of the eye clinic. The corners of your lips curve up, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. You should be immune to him by now, but your body seems to have a reflex that reacts every time Oikawa tries to make you blush.

He raises a hand to shade his eyes, blinking a few times before fully opening them slowly. And what a sight it is: you, looking up at him from the last step of the stairs, trying hard to hide the smile he knows he’s responsible for. 

“Baby, stop smiling so brightly. I still have light sensitivity.” 

You laugh, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He hops down the last step and lands right beside you. 

“How long have you been waiting to use those?” you tug at his hand for him to lean down little, placing the cap you’d fished out from your bag on top of his messy brown hair. 

“As if you don’t like it, meanie.” Oikawa pouts, and his lips jut out ever so slightly to expose light pink. 

You smile even wider, shaking your head as you readjust his cap to settle amidst wavy hair. Your fingers trail down to play with the tips of his ears as they coax him lower for you to land a small peck at the tip of his nose. 

“M’sorry. I like it, Tooru, but I think we should set another doctor’s appointment.” your eyes meet his as you hold back a giggle. He raises his eyebrow, questioning. “I think you might have caught a serious bug–” you pause for emphasis, “–the love bug.” 

There’s a look of disbelief on his face, brown eyes wide and mouth agape. You burst out laughing. 

“You’re even worse than me! And you call me cheesy?!”

You loop your arm around Oikawa’s as you walk to the car, still laughing as he continues to mumble about how you’re seriously starting to take after him. The walk to the car isn’t too far from the clinic entrance, but it takes you a bit longer considering you’re essentially guiding a 6’ 1” pro-athlete densely packed with muscle straight out of his Lasik procedure. 

When you first heard the real reason why Oikawa evaded the procedure for so long, you thought he was joking.

You thought he’d held it off because he was busy, or that he was afraid of the entire thing (if ‘lasik eye surgery procedure video’ in his search history was anything to go by), but nope. Oikawa’s biggest concern was that he wouldn’t be able to clearly see you. For a day, or maybe two—at least until the aftereffects of light sensitivity disappear. He’d shared it to you so shyly, as if he hasn’t already bared to you the contents of his heart (full of volleyball, and friends, but most especially you). 

And it’s cheesy (which isn’t far off from his usual sweet-talking), but it’s true. 

One of the things Oikawa hates the most is missing moments of you—the in-betweens of breakfasts and skincare by the bathroom sink, those long tangents you go on about a dog you’d seen on the street in the middle of recounting your day. Since getting more free time in his career, Oikawa’s always chosen to spend those few extra hours on you. 

It’s hard enough as is, spending half the year communicating through phone screens. To compromise that because he’d be ‘sensitive to light’ or something was enough of a dealbreaker already. 

So here you were, tending to your big baby of a boyfriend who lives half the world away. You really wanted your trip to be a surprise—after all, lining up your holiday with his off season has only happened one other time despite your many years together. 

But if this was the only way to convince your pro-loverboy that he didn’t have to worry about not being able to see you, because you’d be around him anyway, then so be it. Anything for him. 

.

Once Oikawa settles in the car, he’s knocked out, sleeping by the passenger seat as you drive yourselves back to the apartment.

The next few days find you guiding Oikawa around like a baby learning how to walk. He’s constantly stumbling, picking up things he’s not supposed to, and ‘accidentally’ bumping into you any chance he gets. You know he’s exaggerating, but he wouldn’t be your Tooru if he wasn’t, and you love that about him. Fully. Wholly. 

You wouldn’t have him any other way. 

You write L so wonderfully and so in character. I had a request if they’re still open: Could I request Reader (any gender) giving L his first kiss, teaching him how to kiss in the process, and L discovering that he really enjoys the sensation of kissing? I headcanon L as so mentally devoted to his work that his physical form has kind of taken a backseat, and so something like a kiss or touch from the right person can ignite in him a new understanding of himself. Thanks for reading! 💖

So, I was gonna answer this later because I have a truly astounding amount of homework to get done, but how could I keep you waiting? Anyways, I tried my best to adhere to your request, and I'm so sorry if it's disappointing, I've never really done this before. Please let me know if you want anything else written or rewritten, or literally anything. Your wish is my command. Also, thank you so much for your kind words! I am trying to write him as realistically as possible because I saw too much ooc L, and so I'm doing my best.

“Cake?” You asked, setting it down in front of him gently so as to not disturb his setup. 

“Thank you.” He responded. His eyes never left the screen as he picked up the fork and began to eat. 

He had arrived at your apartment last night and in typical L fashion, had given you little notice before knocking on your door with a briefcase of files and papers. He had turned your living room into a crime scene, and as far as you knew, hadn’t slept a wink since he had gotten here. 

You didn’t want to ask him any questions or bother him, despite how incredibly curious you were, but you did want to be sure he wasn’t wasting away under your watch. If that meant feeding him desserts every hour to ensure that something was being consumed, then so be it.

“Cake for dinner,” You said softly to the air, shaking your head as you served yourself a slice. “I’m living my childhood dreams.”

Taking a seat next to L, you very carefully pulled a blanket up to your lap. You watched him cautiously, worried that your movements might distract him.

“You are not bothering me.” He said abruptly. 

You froze “Are you sure? I can just go to my room if - “

“No, I quite enjoy your presence.” He turned to you. “And if anything, I should be the one worried about bothering you. I have completely taken over your living room with my research.”

In furious denial, you responded, “No not at all! I love having papers about - “ You pick up a paper and skim the first sentence. “ - mass murders…on my couch…”

L let out a soft chuckle, to which you gave him a smile in return. “I should be thankful that you have not yet tired of my existence.”

“How could I ever? You’re my best customer.” You gestured to the state of your messy kitchen - a result of all the baking and cooking you had done for him since he had arrived. 

He responded with a little laugh, and turned back to his screen. You admired how much he devoted himself to his work, however it worried you nonstop to see how it ate away at him, both mentally and physically. 

You didn’t pretend to understand what he did. As far as you could tell, he was a spy or detective of sorts. He never confirmed or denied your guesses, but there were certain aspects of his routine that allowed you to infer what you could.

What you were sure of, however, was that the only time he was ever able to properly relax was when he was around you. Which only made it that much more saddening that he was so immersed in his research at this moment in time.

But you said nothing. It was never your place to interfere or say anything. That was how the two of you worked.

You picked up your book from the table in front of you and began to read. It was nice, being near him and the two of you being allowed to do your respective things. In fact, the book you were reading was one he had suggested for you after you told him it had been a while since you found a good book.

So far, you were quite happy with the recommendation.

After a couple of hours of just being next to each other and occasionally exchanging words, you began to doze off. The book slipped out of your hands and your head dropped onto L’s shoulder.

For the first time in hours, he was completely taken out of his work mindset. The weight of your body slumped against his was so warm. He knew it probably would be best to let you sleep, but how was he meant to get any work done if you were right against him?

Lucky for him, you started to stir, yawning as you awoke from your brief nap. “You’re here?”

“I’ve been here since yesterday.” He replied quietly.

You quickly noticed how much of his personal space you had accidentally invaded and shot straight up. “Shit, I didn’t mean to - “

L reached over and took your hand. It was a bit of an awkward grab, but you understood he meant it to be comforting. “You do not bother me.” His words were firm. 

“Right,” You breathed out, unknowingly lacing your fingers with his. “I forgot.”

“You also seemed to forget that I was here,” He noted. “You were surprised.”

Your cheeks heated up at his observation. “I think…I’m not used to you being so present next to me. It was a bit shocking to wake up practically sleeping on you.”

He was silent for a moment, and then, “Elaborate. On the part about me being present.”

“It’s not a matter of you being physically absent, but I mean you’re always so absorbed in your work that it’s like you forget I’m here or even where and who you are. Mentally, you are on another planet almost ninety percent of the time.” You explain, embarrassed. 

This seemed to bother him. You noticed the way his grip on your hand loosened and his shoulders deflated even more. 

“I never meant to make you feel that way.”

Your heart broke at how defeated he sounded. “Not at all! I just want you to be aware that you’re allowed to relax around me. You’re under no obligations here.”

He nodded. “Then you should also know that I don’t mind you being close to me.” He looked down at where your hands were still intertwined. “I’ve come to enjoy being in contact with you.”

You laughed lightly, relieved. “Thank goodness. I could kiss you right now, you know?”

“You could.” He confirmed quickly. “It would certainly be an experience I’ve never had before.”

To that, your laughter stops. “Never? You’ve never been kissed before?”

“I think I, of all people, would know if I had been.” He said dryly. 

“Would you want me to kiss you?” You asked him, your words hushed and curious. 

He pondered it for a moment. “I would want you to, of course. I have no expectations on whether or not I will enjoy it, as I have no previous experience to form them from. However, based off of what the vast majority of the population would - “

You decided you had enough of his talking and leaned forward, pressing your lips against his and using your free hand to hold his face gently as you did. 

By kissing standards, it was not perfect. It was soft and awkward, but to you it was pure bliss. And as you pulled away and saw the gratified look in his eyes, it was fairly evident he felt similarly.

“How was that?” You asked teasingly.

“I’m not sure,” He replied. “I think you should do it again, for me to provide you with a satisfactory answer.”

You let out a laugh and leaned against him. “To be entirely honest with you, I haven’t kissed many people before.”

“In comparison to them, how did I do?” 

“Well, that was just a basic kiss.” You explained. “If you really want to be memorable, you should try a little harder.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “And how should I do that?”

You gave him a sly smile and moved until his back was pressed against the couch cushions and you were positioned slightly above him, your legs on either side of his lap. 

“Just open your mouth…” And like the obedient boyfriend he was, he did. “...lean forward…” Your lips met his again and you pulled him in closer; so close that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

The two of you quickly fell into a rhythm, and for someone who claimed to have never been kissed before, he was oddly passionate.

Breathless, you pulled away and beamed at him. “I would say that was pretty good. You?”

“If I wished to rank it, I would have to kiss other people to properly make a comparison.” You met his eyes, a teasing spark illuminated within them.

You scrunched up your nose. “Don’t joke. You are horribly unfunny.”

“Your lies do not concern me.” He placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose, much to your surprise. 

“It appears you like being kissed then?” 

“If it’s by you, then yes.” He sighed, a mixture of content and sadness. “I apologize for making you feel so unwanted around me while I work. I truly appreciate your presence and your efforts to distract me.”

You nodded acceptingly. “Well, do they at least work?”

L smiled. “They do.”

With a little exhale of relief, you rested your body against his and closed your eyes. “Anyways, you’re pretty good at that whole kissing thing. Maybe we can make it a habit.”

He squeezed your hand lightly. “I would like that.”

Because there was something so satisfying about kissing you, or even touching you, that made him only crave it more. L, whose mind was forever restless, had come to a complete halt the moment your lips had touched his. 

It appeared that the only tried and true thing that could ever relax him and bring him out of an overworked state of mind, was being with you. 

It was selfish. So incredibly selfish of him. To be with you, knowing the dangers, knowing the consequences, all because it made him feel good.

But he couldn’t help it. Not if it meant the possibility of kissing you again. And so he solidified this resolve in his mind that he wanted you, and only ever you. He knew there could be nothing good to come of this in the long run, but for now, you were both content in each other’s company.

L never stopped thinking about this moment. It might have been one of the only ones where he could truly say he was happy. 

You left him for two minutes. All of two minutes.

On the rare days off that you and Shoto get to spend together, it’s almost always spent curled together on the couch or in the bed, watching him work out for fun before making him cheat on his diet, anything that lets the day drip by slower than any other day of the week.

You left him to pee. That’s it. Placing the bowl of sour candy down, you slip out from his lap, give him a kiss before moving down the hall like any standard, subconscious person would.

Two. Minutes.

“Shoto, what’re you doing?”

“You like the strawberry flavor the best.”

By the time you come out, he’s got a pile of pink candy, separated by the other colors except for purple, which is in its own little pile. “You don’t like the grape flavor.”

You quirk a brow and walk back over to him, watching as he continues to segregate the candies, “baby, I would’ve been more than happy to just pick around them, you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“But you don’t like them,” he repeats, looking up at you with those doe eyes that you love to get lost in. “You look down every time you reach for one. I thought I might help ease the burden slightly.”

Burden. Your first world problem of not liking sour grape skittles should be the farthest thing from a burden to him.

But to shoto, it’s not one, and it’ll never be one; little acts of services like these aren’t new, small details just to make hour by hour tasks and privilegies just that much easier.

It’s something he’s always done. Something he’s always going to do. Because he loves you.

With a smile, you slink back into his lap, your head nuzzling against his stomach while the tv drones on about whatever he put on while you were gone. You kiss the warmth of his tummy to feel the muscles constrict under the affection, and you bury your hand into the bowl of candy right after.

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum. A hand rests on your head, thumb gently rubbing over the warmth of your crown as silence fills the room once again.

Popping a skittle into your mouth, your face quickly grimaces, and he hums in acknowledgement.“Eugh,” you grumble, and he looks down at you, silently asking you what happened.

And you want to lie. Truly! It’s better for everyone if you do, just tell him you bit your tongue and let him think nothing more.

But apparently, you don’t.

“Missed a grape one,” you tease.

“….”

“Sho?”

“Spit it into my hand.”

“Sho, no-“

the characters finding out about mc's fwb but instead of it being with a random demon, it's solomon >>>>

them being flabbergasted not only about the situation but that you have the arrangement with that shady sorcerer. also frustrated because of course you'd take comfort on the only other human in the devildom!

a/n: mmm yes I think most of them would have something to say about that.

➤ when they find out solomon is your fwb | the demon brothers + dateables

1k words | gn!reader | nsfw | snarky and suggestive

c/w: jealousy, non-explicit sexual content, implied voyeurism, implied threesomes/moresomes

related: reacting to you having a fwb: the demon brothers | the dateables

disappointed but not surprised: lucifer, beelzebub, diavolo

They warned you, didn't they? Solomon is the shadiest sorcerer to ever exist. He's powerful and unpredictable and he can't even be called human anymore. Why in all the Devildom did you have to pick him? You could've had literally anyone else! Unheeded warnings about not getting too close to Solomon turn into vague reminders that the demons are there to save you from that white-haired menace if you need it. Lucifer sneaks behind your back and gives him the world's scariest shovel talk, which is a little silly since this was only supposed to be a casual arrangement for comfort and intimacy. (Of course, no one realizes that you and Solomon managed to catch feels along the way.) Lucifer's thinly-veiled threats promising a painful demise should be enough to scare anyone away. None of them expect Solomon to abruptly end your casual relationship so that he can date you officially instead. He looks far too smug with himself when you hold his hand at RAD in front of the others and when he becomes a semi-regular visitor at the House of Lamentation. Your undeniable happiness is a constant reminder to the others that they underestimated both humans in the exchange program.

why didn't anyone stop them?! (yeah, they're jealous af): mammon, leviathan, satan, belphegor

This is awful. Isn't this why they were supposed to keep an eye on you, to keep you from getting mixed up with people like him?!

"Weren't you supposed to do that, Mammon?"

"Shuddup!"

They hate Solomon's guts. They don't think he deserves you. (They might not deserve you either, but you could do a hell of a lot better than him!) They roll their eyes and gag dramatically when Solomon kisses your cheek or cozies up beside you in the cafeteria at lunch. When you're not looking, they shoot daggers at him and make not-too-subtle gestures that translate roughly to I'm watching you and if you hurt them, you die. They're less subtle and more aggressive than Lucifer is, and Solomon thinks it's hilarious. He knows how lucky he is that he caught your eye first and not them. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy rubbing it in their faces just a little bit. Maybe he forgets to use a silencing charm on your bedroom door when he fucks you in the House of Lamentation. Maybe he wears low-collar shirts to show off the fresh line of marks you made around the base of his neck. He leaves a toothbrush in your ensuite bathroom and spare clothes in your closet. Sometimes you wear his clothes when you don't have class because they still smell like him. You don't notice the demons sitting beside you at breakfast twitch in their seats and suddenly lose their appetites. You feel so fortunate that you found friendship and love in the Devildom. Your friends tell you (and themselves) that they're happy for you too. You don't notice how fake their smiles are when they see you together (but Solomon does).

they're surprisingly okay with it and no one understands why: asmodeus, barbatos, simeon

They don’t know whether to blame fate or their own bad luck that brought you and Solomon together. They grudgingly admit you could do a lot worse than the white-haired menace that seems to adore you. As long as you’re happy and treated well, they don't feel it’s their place to interfere. The others might sulk and pretend they’re not disappointed, or they might be openly belligerent about it, but some of your friends still support you above all else. Asmo drags you into his room and gossips with you about Solomon while he does your nails. Tell me, you can be honest—how is he in bed with you? I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else! Oh, I bet he's so romantic, isn't he~ He’s curious about your relationship and teases you for intimate details that are too personal to share, but you know he's genuinely excited for you. Barbatos doesn’t say much about your relationship openly, but he enjoys reminding the others that if they were less distracted by their own foolishness, they wouldn’t have taken you for granted. Simeon welcomes you with open arms as a guest to Purgatory Hall when the atmosphere at the House of Lamentation grows too stifling. He does his best to make sure Solomon doesn’t completely ruin dinner when you visit in the evenings. He enjoys discussing books and your other shared interests when the sorcerer is busy; Solomon knows you're safe with the angels in his absence.

Like Asmo and Barbatos, you grow closer with Simeon as well through your mutual connections to Solomon. You might not realize what they’re up to when they try to spend more time with you outside of class, but Solomon does. Their sweet gestures of comfort linger far too long to be considered platonic, and the way desire creeps into their eyes when they gaze at you from afar would irritate him if they were anyone else. He has long, colourful pasts with both Asmo and Barbatos, and Simeon quickly became one of his trusted friends while living in the close quarters of Purgatory Hall together. It wouldn't be the first time Solomon invited one of his acquaintances for a little bit of fun in the bedroom, but that was only to share casual partners he didn’t have feelings for. The thought of sharing you with anyone else nearly drives him to violence. Time dulls those jealous impulses, and he admits how appealing it would be to watch you with one (or more) of them together. You’re so lovely in the throes of pleasure, and there's a certain thrill from watching on the sidelines. He knows they'll obey without question when he tells them how to touch you, and he can savor watching you fall apart under their hands and his sinful commands. He gets hard just imagining you crying out his name when you cum, even if one of the others is between your legs instead of him. If you admit to feeling desire for any of them, he'll discuss those delicious possibilities with you too.

your little flower stall is strategically set up a few feet from one of the trendiest restaurants in this area of tokyo. 

it’s a smart spot, one that men like reo can appreciate when he’s already ten minutes late for his date. he’d quite literally just left work, a last minute meeting having forced him to get ready in the back of his car in his haste to arrive somewhat on time. his shirt is untucked and his pants are wrinkled from being left in the trunk for so long.

he winces when he catches his reflection in a window, running a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. he definitely can’t show up empty handed when he’s late and looking like this. 

“good evening,” he greets, a little breathless as he approaches your stall. his eyes scan the bouquets available, looking for any safe picks and frowning when he realizes you’re out of roses. so he shrugs and picks up whatever’s closest. some kind of yellow flower.

“yellow carnations?” you murmur as he digs into his pocket for his wallet, prompting him to glance up at you. “an odd choice.”

“how do you mean?”

“it’s an unusual choice for a date, is all.” 

he raises his brows. “how do you know they’re for a date?”

“oh, come on,” you grin, leaning against the counter. “a handsome guy like you doesn’t have someone to buy flowers for?”

he knows it’s probably just a marketing pitch, but his ego swells nonetheless. “handsome, huh?” 

you simply shrug - tease - and place the carnations back into their bucket to grab a different bouquet. you cut a strip of white ribbon from its spool, winding it around the stems. “go with these instead. if your date knows anything about flowers, these will definitely get you laid.”

reo actually laughs at that, as he strongly doubts the wannabe influencer he’d been set up with knows much about the meanings of flowers, but he’ll take your word for it. he hands you his card, not-so-secretly hoping that you’d caught a glimpse of his name on its surface before you swiped it through your machine.

when you return it to him, he pulls a handful of bills out of his wallet and stuffs them into your tip jar.

“oh,” you start. “that’s too much–” 

he flashes you a smile that’s been called ‘swoon-worthy’ before, waving you off as he tucks his wallet back into his pocket. “don’t worry about it! you’re saving my life here.” 

“your sex life, you mean?” you quip, but your eyes sparkle at his praise as you hand him the bouquet. “well, thank you for your patronage, sir.” 

he quickly dips his head in thanks, a little reluctant as he heads towards the restaurant. 

_____

monday mornings aren’t especially busy for you, as bleary eyed office workers don’t have much need for flowers. 

which is why you’re surprised when the man from last friday starts approaching your stall, holding a cup of what you assume must be coffee. he doesn’t quite look like you remember, from the impeccable cut of his suit to the way his hair is neatly pulled back. he’s even wearing aviators that you’re sure would look ridiculous on anyone else, but for some reason make him look like a movie star. 

he pulls them off with his free hand and hangs them off the pocket of his bag, waving at you like you’re old friends. he looks so earnest and excited that you can’t do much else than blush and raise your hand in response. 

“morning,” he greets once you’re close enough to hear. “this is for you. for last friday. i wasn’t sure what you’d like so i just got their special.” 

he holds out the cup, whose logo you now recognize from the overpriced cafe down the street. you take it, smiling. “i take it your date went well then?”

he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, shrugging. “sure.” 

“did you come to buy her more flowers?”

“ah…i don’t think i’ll see her again.” 

you perk up at that. just a little. “oh?” 

“yeah,” he sighs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “i, uh, kinda wanna see where things go with someone else.” 

oh, of course there’s someone else. a guy like him probably never has a shortage of options. (and who are you not to capitalise on that?) “maybe some flowers will help.” 

you think there’s something mischievous in his smile. “definitely. what do you recommend?”

_____

reo is running out of places to put his flowers. 

they’re all over his office. they line the entirety of his windowsill and take over the free space on his desk. a small clump of white daisies in an old coffee mug. a single rose in his pen cup. his assistant has to crane her head around a vase of lilies to deliver her reports at the end of each day. 

what can he say? you’re one hell of a salesperson. if anyone had asked him what his favourite flower was before, he’d have no idea what to tell them. in truth, he’d never given much thought to something so impermanent as flowers.  

but you easily become a permanent part of his routine. each day he stops at your stall, utilising the information he’d gathered from the internet just moments before to impress you with an educated floral choice. 

you always smile when you hand him the bouquet, and he wonders how your product isn’t sold out at the end of each day, with a smile as enamouring as yours. 

when his office is overrun by floral accents, he starts bringing them home instead. his neighbours gush about what a great boyfriend he is each time they catch him returning with a new arrangement. they say that whoever he’s coming home to must be a ‘very special someone.’

they don’t know that it’s just nagi, who barely looks up from whatever game he’s playing but comments mildly that he didn’t think reo was a flower guy. 

“everyone’s a flower guy,” he’d quipped as he unwrapped the brand new vase he’d bought to accompany the bouquet of peonies and anemones you’d given him. 

and if nagi noticed he’d come home blushing the day you called him your most important customer, he didn’t say anything.

_____

“hey,” he asks on a particularly slow sunday afternoon. you’re in the process of wrapping - by his request - a bundle of lilacs, which happen to be your favourite flower. “come to lunch with me. i can get us a table—” he points to the restaurant behind you. “—there.” 

you don’t answer right away, allowing yourself a moment to make sure you’ve heard him right. “what would your girlfriend think?”

he looks confused as you hold the lilacs out to him. “girlfriend?”

“yeah…isn’t she the one you’ve been buying all these flowers for?”

he blinks a few times before hanging his head with a chuckle. “no i— i don’t have a girlfriend.”

he doesn’t have a girlfriend. so that would mean…

“you’re asking me out,” you realize, averting your gaze to the counter with all the awkwardness of a kid receiving their first valentine. “i’d love to, but i can’t just close—”

“what would you make in a day?” he blurts. “ideally.” 

“well, ideally i’d be sold out—”

he flips his wallet open and hands you his card. “i’ll take everything then.”

“everything?” you echo. 

he shrugs, shooting you a wink. “what can i say? i’m a flower guy.”

“reo,” you laugh, pushing his card back towards him. “i’m not going to let you pay me to go out with you. just go grab some takeout and come back here. a pretty face like yours is bound to sell.” 

“you’re whoring me out for business?” 

“i’m just being entrepreneurial,” you counter. 

he crosses his arms over his chest, a handsome grin on his face. “alright, but i’ll need to be compensated for my efforts. maybe even with a kiss…”

you roll your eyes (albeit with a smile) as you point at the restaurant. “at least buy me lunch first.”

Cherish You Forever | Kyojuro Rengoku x f!Reader

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Content Warning: Mention of night terrors, Kyojuro survives but he retired yay, Kyojuro being a loving husband T^T

Word Count: 1.3k

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You awoke upon hearing a loud crash coming from outside your room and sat up immediately. The lamp was turned off and it was still dark outside. The sound of crickets signaled that it was still the middle of the night—or, at the very least, early morning before the sun rose.

You touched the space next to you to wake up your husband, fearing that it was a burglar. Your husband, however, was not in your shared futon. You instantly realized what had occurred: your husband was awake and probably made that sound.

You left your warm futon and made your way out to look for your husband, worried. You tried hard not to make any noise with your steps, worried of startling your husband. It was not difficult to find him because the kitchen door was wide open.

When you peeked inside, you saw your husband kneeling and scooping something up from the floor. His cane was resting against the counter.

"Kyojuro-sama?" You called out his name softly as you turned on the light switch.

Kyojuro glared over his shoulder, a dark circle beneath his eye apparent. He stopped picking up the shattered porcelain cup he had dropped on the floor.

You snatched a rag from the kitchen counter and crouched next to him, helping him in picking up the fragments of the cup.

"Another night terror, dear?" You asked calmly as you wrapped the pieces and tossed them into the trash bin. You took his hands in yours and lifted him up, gave him his walking stick. Kyojuro kept his gaze fixed on the ground and did not respond to the question you asked. "Why don't you wait in the dining room, hm? I'll make you a cup of tea, yeah?"

You let go of his hands and went to make the tea, filling one of the kettles and boiling it on the the stove. A strong arm wrapped around your shoulder as you switched on the the stove. Kyojuro sighed and leaned his chin against on top of your head.

"I'm sorry," he croaked out, "It was your favorite cup, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah but they still sell it in town. It doesn't matter, dear." You turned around, staring up at your beautiful husband.

Kyojuro kept his eye on you while his hand placed yours on his left cheek, near his eyepatch. Your lips tugged up in a small smile.

When you first met Kyojuro, you were curious about what had happened to his left eye. However, you did not dare to ask him about it. You had only recently met. You didn't want to be impolite, especially with your parents, his father, and Senjuro in the room. After all, you'd be marrying the man in a year. You had plenty of opportunity to get to know him.

Kyojuro only told you about his left eye incident on your first night as newlyweds. He let you open his yukata and his eyepatch. You uncovered what was beneath the patch after a year together. Deep scars sewn over his blind eye, as well as a massive scar on his abdomen. Kyojuro kept his gaze fixed on you as you stroked your gentle finger over his battle scars.

Then he told you about what happened while he was a Hashira. He was almost killed by an 'Upper Rank Demon,' but he was lucky since dawn was approaching and the demon fled. He had to go through numerous treatments to heal his wounds. Kyojuro's recovery was challenging, especially when he began having night terrors regarding his near-death experience. The ease with which the demon's hand pushed into his abdomen, the pain he felt when he was carried back in a stretcher, the moment he saw his late mother and realized he was about to join her in the afterlife. Kyojuro, who was half-blind and forced to walk with a walking stick, had no choice but to retire from the corps. That's when his father came up with the proposal of matching him with you, a daughter of an old acquaintance.

Nothing had ever prepared Kyojuro for the moment you told him he was strong and beautiful despite his wounds. He still got flustered now, even with the fact that you've been married for two years.

You caressed his cheek and drew him in closer, kissing the tip of his nose softly. Kyojuro's brow furrowed, and his nose pricked. You laughed and lightly slapped his chest.

"Go wait in the dining room, dear. I'll bring you tea."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The water was quickly brought to a boil. You put some tea leaves in a teapot and filled it with hot water. You carried the teapot and two cups to your dining room on a tray.

Kyojuro sat on the tatami floor, his legs hidden beneath the warm kotatsu table. He appeared to be feeling better, with a faint smile on his lips as he watched you sit down next to him and place the tray on the table.

"So," you started, "how are you feeling?"

"Much better, now you're here." Kyojuro answered. He got back to his usual cheerful tone, though not as loud. Understandable, since the two of you just woke up in the middle of the night.

You sighed and hugged his torso from the side. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Of course I didn't want to disturb you." Kyojuro kissed the top of your head. "Besides, this is something I've grown accustomed to."

"I know, but I still want to be there for you, I want to help you."

"(Y/N), dear, you're already helping me. I lost my career, I had no idea where to go, what to do. You gave me a reason to keep living."

You looked up to your husband, waiting if he wanted to continue talking.

"You were supportive when I said I wanted to study history, hoping that I can be a teacher someday. You always take care of me when I'm sick, or helping me when I'm struggling to do something... even if I say I can do it on my own. You befriend my ex colleagues. Tengen and his wives, Sanemi and Giyuu, even young Kamado. You were so patient whenever I had my night terrors, holding me in your arms until I calmed down. You do it every time, for two years until it got better lately. You've done a lot of things to help me already, (Y/N)."

You hummed, not really knowing how to respond to Kyojuro.

"I used to feel pathetic, defeated, useless. All because of these," Kyojuro waved his hand, motioning to his body, "But now I see it as a blessing. Because without these injuries, I wouldn't have marry you, the best partner I could ever asked for."

"Kyojuro... sama..."

"I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm going to cherish you forever, even in the afterlife, even in our next life." Kyojuro lifted up your chin and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips.

You slowly took off Kyojuro's eyepatch and kissed his left eye, before you kissed his nose again. He giggled and pecked your forehead.

"I don't know where you learn to speak like that." You covered your face out of embarrassment.

"Ah... Tengen, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," you patted his cheek and turned to the teapot. "Come on, let's drink our tea and get back to bed."

"I'm not sleepy yet, though."

"We can talk until we fall asleep."

Kyojuro grinned from ear to ear, "I would love that."

You poured the tea into each of your cups and the two of you drank in silence. It was comfortable, it felt right.

"Oh, by the way..."

Kyojuro turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

"I love you too, Kyojuro-sama. Always will."

────────────────────────────────────────── I wrote this at one am bcs i'm under the weather and i miss Kyojuro T^T

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