I Love This Idea Of People Flirting With Matsukawa At Funerals For Their Relatives, But Like... Im Just

i love this idea of people flirting with matsukawa at funerals for their relatives, but like... i’m just imaging how distraught he would be. like, sneaking into the employee’s only bathroom, recording a video saying “like, i literally just burned your granny’s body and you’re flirting with me??? i literally have your granny’s ashes on my suit right now” and sending it to the seijoh 4 snapchat every once in a while and everyone loses their shit laughing when it happens. they especially love teasing him when it’s an older widow and makki always suggests stealing her heart and getting on the will. iwaizumi yells at makki for his suggestion the next time they see each other in person and matsukawa suggests hitting the old granny widows up so makki can keep being unemployed

Against the Clock [Oneshot]

100 Prompts: Timing

Summary: He followed her gaze to see Jean on the other side of the room, who was looking at her longingly, thus distorting Eren’s face into a sour frown. He know that look all too well. He shifted slightly, moving into her view instead and greeted her unceremoniously, “hey.” Mikasa blushed, she knew exactly what he was doing. [Eremika]

A/N: I love petty Eren. That is all. Set after chapter 50! Find this story on Fanfiction.net: {levi-nii-san}

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The image of her looking up at him with a plethora of emotions painted on her face burned in his mind, long after they escaped the whole fiasco. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see her own, bright as ever despite accepting that maybe that was it for them. She seemed genuinely fulfilled and content- elated, even- that she was spending her last moments with him.

And it didn’t exactly hit him until later on that that was her goodbye, that her whole speech thanking him had essentially confirmed her intent to die by his side, through thick and thin indeed.

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at four, this is what it means to be illuminated. | nanami k.

genre: domestic fluff | wc: 600+ 

a/n: @mrs-kuroojinguji lowl

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Should the world ask, “What is love to you?” you would answer with many things.

In the mornings, you suppose that love is your cup of caramel beside his dark brew. It’s warm kisses in cold winter air, and a scarlet duvet over the contours of skin you’ve mapped and memorized again and again.

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@ilovemysetters

a picture in sepia

pairing: atsumu x reader

warnings: none

genre: fluff

a/n: ‘a picture in sepia’ is one of my favourite studio ghibli soundtrack. if you want to, you can listen to it here <3 :)

“look what i’ve found!” you say, walking towards the living room. 

atsumu places the knife down on the chopping board, he turns his head to the side, to your voice - and you’re waving a photograph side to side in the air. 

intrigued, he asks, “a photograph?”

you smile, nose crinkling, you’re standing next to him - arm touching arm. you show him the photo, and atsumu let’s out a breathy laugh, grinning. it’s a photo of him and you, as children - you’re both holding hands in the snow, smiling brightly at the camera. the photograph itself has seen better days - the top right corner is heavily dented. and the bottom left corner has faded into a sepia hue, a bit of the snow no longer visible - a testament to its age. 

atsumu gently takes the photograph from your hand, running his thumb across it. “where did you find this?” he asks. 

“it was in my memory box.”

he hums, his eyes crinkling - he gifted the memory box to you on your fourteenth birthday, and so, it makes his stomach flutter knowing after all these years, you’ve still kept it, still cherishing it - filled with things important to you. 

he points at you, you’re beaming at the camera with innocent youth. “i remember your coat being too big for you.” atsumu thinks back to his childhood, thinks of you complaining - front tooth missing, adult tooth growing through - about how large your coat was, wanting a coat that was much ‘cooler’.

(he thought you were always cool - no matter what coat you wore).

“i know.” you say, amused. “mama would always say i would grow into it”. 

atsumu says, “she was right.”

you chuckle, nodding your head. “but look at you!” you coo. “'tsumu you were so small and cute.” 

he looks at himself - you were a few inches taller than him back then. though it only lasted until he entered middle school - that was when he had his first growth spurt.  

“what do you mean were,” atsumu huffs, playfully. “i’m still cute!”

you look at him, then back at the photo. “i’d say you’re handsome now.”

“handsome?” he smirks. “is that so?”

you softly shove at his chest, shaking your head - concealing your smile. “'tsumu stop flirting like a teenage boy, we’re married.”

you both start to reminisce the day this photo was taken - the poorly built snowman, the messy snowball fight, slipping on ice. those days have long gone, they’ll never come back, only a distant memory. but photographs keeps those memories alive, after all, photographs immortalise fleeting moments for eternity.  

“we should frame this.”

“yeah,” he agrees, eyes light. “we should.”

a/n: i have a memory box filled with things from the past decade - like photos, trinkets, letters - and whenever i feel nostalgic, i like to look through it - remembering the person i once was :)

Coming Home At Twilight

A lil Nanami brain rot (more like a rant)

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Genre: fluff, domesticity, drabble, slice of life

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k words

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“I’m home,” you call to no one in particular. You are met with the eerie silence of your home, the air conditioner humming softly in the background as a natural ambient sound to fall asleep. You slip on a pair of house slippers, the soft padding breaking the serenity of the home. 

You walk into the living room and the sight of Kento sleeping soundly on the leather couch with a book open on his chest and his glasses still resting on his nose appears before you. It is a wonderful sight to see him so relaxed and casual; the light just barely peeking through the twilight, ending the night puts you into tranquility. Smiling, you set down your work bag and tiptoe closer. 

His shirt still tucked, but ruffled from turning in his sleep, his tie thrown half-hazardly on the one of the cushions and he still looked as handsome as ever. Perfectly sculpted cheekbones, his defined jaw, the slope of his nose, his normally flawlessly styled hair now hanging in small wisps on his forehead and seeing all of it, there was no doubt in your mind that he was made by the gods themselves. 

His eyebrows were no longer pinched together and his lips were relaxed, not the typical thin line of subtle annoyance that could quickly curl into irritability. In other words, he was the epitome of effortlessly good-looking. 

You gently pry off his glasses, placing them on the coffee table. He doesn’t flinch nor open his eyes. He is typically a light sleeper, constantly hyper aware in his sleep. He gives no sign of waking up.

He must’ve had a long day at work last night.

You glance at the clock on the coffee table, a frown growing. It is still 4:56 in the morning. A part of you wished to not wake him up, give him some well deserved rest, but concern rose in your chest at the thought he might be overworking himself. You set your hand on his, tracing the veins that protruded from his knuckles. 

You lean over and place your lips on his forehead, brushing away the hair that fell on his face. When your eyes fall onto his face again, you are met with pools of a gentle blue sea that is his eyes. You kiss his forehead again and his eyes flutter closed.

“Love, you should be sleeping on the bed instead of the couch,” you mutter against his hairline. 

He sighs exhaustedly, running a tired hand through his hair before meeting your gaze, bored orphic eyes sucking the light out of the room. You just knew that he was sleeping on the couch to wait for you to come home as much as he would hate to admit it. You simply knew him too well.

You continue to stroke his cheek as if holding the finest china, your thumb caressing the skin just underneath his eye bags that were always there, making him look much more older and mature for his age. “How long have you been laying here?”

His eyes soften just a little from your touch and he shuffles to make himself more comfortable, resting his head against his forearm. “I was reading a book and then I fell asleep.” Then it must have been a couple hours, you concluded.

You knit your eyebrows together. “You haven’t been overworking yourself, have you?” 

He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t,” he says with nonchalant honesty. Nanami knows how you complain when he pushes himself too much, but his job was still demanding. His work ethic is certainly admirable. 

Your hand instinctively moves to his chest, just above his stomach, patting it soothingly. “You should get some more rest. I’ll wake you up for breakfast.”

“No. Stay here.”

Your eyebrows knit together, causing a wrinkle on your nose and forehead. “No?” His request was strange to say the least. He never did anything out of the necessary and frankly, it was like that for most of your relationship. Sure, there were some moments of shared affection, but even then, Nanami was a man who liked to keep to himself. 

Swinging his legs over the edge and pulling you up, he wraps his arms around your waist and begins to sway back and forth as if to balter to a silent tune, his forehead leaning against yours and his breath tickling your nose.

Your body stiffens in surprise. He’s not normally like this.

You pull away just enough to scan his face for anything strange. He doesn’t look any different. You place the back of your hand on his forehead, feeling his temperature.

Kento’s eyebrows furrow in slight irritation and the peaceful look of bliss flickers away at the cool touch of your hand. “What are you doing?”

You frown. “Are you sick, Kento? It’s not typical of you to act like this.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh,” is your only response as you give up the energy to explain his strange behavior. Hesitantly, you relax into his embrace and he pulls you flush against his body as your arms drape over his shoulders. You exhale the subtle cologne of wood and maple on his shoulder, releasing the mountain of stress that had accumulated on your shoulders throughout the last few weeks.

“You looked a little stressed,” he says eventually, answering your question from earlier. “Maybe this might alleviate it,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, sending electricity down to your toes. His reassuring words and the way his tongue adds stress to his “t’s” warms the base of your stomach and causes butterflies to erupt.

You sigh heavily with content and he hums in response. It did help lessen the tempestuous strain in your mind. Work was a pain and becoming a slight burden, but Kento had no problem soothing it all away with soft kisses and passionate embraces. 

You felt like your soul were floating of pure bliss, ascending away from Earth and into the heavens all while Kento kept you grounded and held on, refusing to let go as if you were his lifeline and truth was, you probably were his lifeline and he was yours. 

Your hand trails up to his hair, combing through his locks that tickled your palms. He releases a small sigh, melting in your touch and squeezes you just a little bit tighter like he was scared an outside force would snatch you away.

It would have been awkward if it wasn’t for the ill-coated affection. And though it was quiet, there weren't any words needed to be exchanged as if a turn of phrase would disrupt the comfortable silence the two of you created. 

You slowly blink away the sleep, but to no avail, you squint at the sun peeking through the horizon, it’s rays beam into the penthouse suite apartment. 

“The sky looks beautiful,” you mumble into his shirt, sleep threatening you into oblivion. 

“Mhmmm,” he hums agreeingly into your hair, his hands running along the valley of your spine, up and down before settling on your lower back. He cracks his eyes open, also slowly succumbing to exhaustion due to lack of sleep. He peers down to see you in all your angelic beauty. The sun highlights the plains of your face, your cheeks illuminating golden in the early morning sun. You looked ethereal. Serendipity must have been on his side when he first met you.

He is aware that the sunrise is beautiful, reds, oranges, pinks, yellows, and blues smeared across the sky as the sun slowly creeps up like every cliché painting, but you are even more divine and luminous than the star itself so he stares at you with an adoration that is only meant for you. 

You crane your head, meeting his soft gaze and breaking his scrutiny. You stare intently at his vivid blue hues, as blue as the sky, the dawn making his eyes gleam. Perhaps that’s why you feel like floating when he is holding you close to him. Maybe that’s why you feel like you’re in heaven when you’re his arms, but also grounded at the same time because he is like heaven on earth.

Wow.

Your eyelids feel heavy as you slowly close them, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you raise yourself on your toes towards him. He meets you halfway and closes the space, giving you a few kisses before pulling away, satisfied.

You mumble a quick, “I love you,” against the corner of his lips before pecking his cheek and leaning against his chest once again as he ever so slightly sways back and forth, as if rocking you to sleep.

“Love you too.” He no longer shies away from those words like he used to, weary of the lifelong commitment those words brought. He reaches for your hand, the certain finger containing a gold wedding ring. He places his lips on the cool metal, a wordless reminder of his infinite love, sealed by a simple promise.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mutters against the crown of your head and you let out a soft sigh. His arm still wrapped around your waist, he guides you into your shared bedroom.

You sink into the mattress, groaning at the relief that flooded through your body. Kento crawls next to you, his calloused hands never leaving your waist. 

“Ken,” you say, voice groggy and practically on the verge of passing out. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

“I’m taking a day off,” he says simply. “You must be exhausted. Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up in time for breakfast.”

You scoff softly into the silk pillowcase. “As if,” and with that you fell asleep to his fingers lingering aimlessly on your clothed stomach. 

Nanami contemplated if it was a good idea to wait for you to come home and wake up in the wee hours of the morning only for him to fall asleep on the couch and you had to pulled him out of sleep. Maybe it didn’t go as planned, but it sure felt nice when the two of you watched the sunrise together before going back to bed. 

He whispers another ‘love you’ into the back of your neck before letting sleep cast its spell. Though he falls into a deep dreamless slumber, he feels light and airy like floating among the clouds. 

Yeah, you definitely made him feel like he had entered heaven and it never gets old. 

OmiOmi vacuuming and he comes across an area of the carpet where it makes that lskshebsbejsbsjlajsksks noise and he’s like FUCK YEAAAHHH